No Bunny But You (Holiday Romance Series)

by Carol Rose

  Scooting into a more comfortable posture in his chair, Aaron said complacently, “Reminds me of Emma and me.”

  His friends gave shouts of laughter at this.

  “When you guys got engaged, I told the girl she could do better,” Levi admitted, “but she said something silly about loving you.”

  When the game came back on, they watched in silence and Drake’s thoughts wandered back to the job application for a news blogger that he’d put in that morning. He’d thought about calling Molly to talk about it beforehand, but then he’d just filled it out on an impulse. Things couldn’t be going better with the home improvement blog—what with being nominated for the award and all—but he couldn’t help feeling like a sham.

  Writing about national and international events felt so much more natural to him, even after all the time he’d spent blogging about home improvement projects.

  He thought of Molly and the sweet kiss they shared when she left the sound stage the day before after promising to go to the award ceremony at the South By Southwest Festival. The woman made him hotter than any other female had ever done. He’d ended up with his hand up her shirt and hard as a rock—and they’d just been kissing goodbye.

  Drake wondered what she was doing right now and if she were naked at the moment.

  At the next commercial break, Aaron leaned over to ask him, “So, when is the award thing you’re up for?”

  “In two weeks.” His eyes on the television, he didn’t say more, yanked out of a fantasy about a naked Molly.

  “What if you win this thing?” Levi raised his brows as he looked over. “Wouldn’t that be a fun turn of events? Mr. Know-Nothing-about-Home-Repair winning a home repair blog award.”

  “Yeah. Fun.” Drake brooded at the screen in front of them. “I did something crazy this morning.”

  His friends both turned to look at him curiously.

  “What?” Aaron shifted in his chair. “Like fix your toilet again?”

  “Ha ha.” Drake took a drink from the bottle in his hand. “No, not toilet-related actually and if there were any plumbing repairs at my house, it should be the faucet in the kitchen. Damn thing still drips. I need to ask Molly over for dinner. Maybe she’ll bring her tools.”

  Maybe she’d kiss him again like she’d never tasted anything better. Possibly do some plumbing in the nude….

  “So, if it wasn’t plumbing, what did you do?” Levi asked.

  ‘I applied for a real job. You know, journalism and reporting on significant things in the world?” He thought for a moment about enjoying writing again, about not writing blindly about subjects he knew nothing about.

  “It’s what you did before,” Aaron pointed out. “Kind of a natural progression, if you ask me. Did you tell Molly?”

  He hadn’t told his friends about the kisses that led up to his wild garden sex with Molly. It somehow felt too private.

  “No. It was a spur of the moment thing.”

  “She’s taken herself out of the blog info business anyway,” Levi pointed out. “Ironic that you got nominated for the Bloggie just when she’d pulled out and insisted on you doing it yourself.”

  “Yes.” Molly kept insisting she’d done it for him and Drake could see her point, but he still felt lost without her help. He didn’t give a crap about home repair.

  “When will you hear about the other job?” Levi reached for the bowl of chips.

  “I don’t know,” Drake said. “It was really a shot in the dark. Kind of a whim thing. I’ll probably be stuck doing this home improvement thing forever.”

  “Yeah,” Aaron said sympathetically. “And winning awards for it.”

  * * *

  “I thought we were going out for dinner.” Molly perched on the edge of Drake’s red microsuede couch later that afternoon, excited and nervous about seeing him again.

  Slouching in from his kitchen, he smiled lazily at her. “I thought we could hang out here. You know, shoot the breeze. Talk about your Easter Picnic stuff. I ordered a pizza.”

  Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, he dropped next to her on the couch. “Tell me how it’s going.”

  The doorbell rang then and he went to answer it, coming back with a large, flat pizza box. “Dinner. Extra cheese and no anchovies. Just like you like it.”

  “Thanks.” While she opened the box—steam rising from the warm pizza—Drake got paper plates and napkins from his small kitchen. “What do you think about me having a parade at the picnic? You know, older high school girls dressed up like butterflies, leading the children in a parade through the garden?”

  “That could be fun.” He came back to sit down next to her again.

  “The kids usually wear pretty dresses and suits. I’ve arranged to have a face-painting station in the gazebo, along with an Easter Basket station, for those who come without one, and of course we’ll have the Easter egg hunt.”

  Drake grinned at her. “How are the bunny auditions going? You know the guy who stepped in for you last time is not available.”

  She lifted a slice out of the box onto a plate. “I know, I know and I’ve met with several applicants. None are right, yet, but I’m still hopeful.”

  Taking a bite of her slice, she smiled at him.

  “Well, keep looking,” he recommended. “You’re bound to find someone. It’s not like this is brain surgery.”

  Acutely aware of his leg pressing against hers, Molly agreed. She felt hot and itchy whenever they were alone together and they were talking about bunnies, for heaven’s sake!

  “So everything is on track for the picnic, except the bunny?”

  “Yes, I’ve arranged the rentals and the balloon person. The caterer will have finger foods that the kids like, plus some more mature options for the adults. We’ll have a coconut, bunny-shaped cake—that’s obligatory, isn’t it? And little fancy cupcakes, frosted with bunnies and decorated eggs.”

  Drake reached for his glass. “Sounds like you’ve got it covered.”

  She tried to refocus, dragging her attention away from his nearness. “I’ll bet. Mike must be thrilled about your Bloggie nomination. Is he still bragging to everyone?”

  “Mmm. Sure. It isn’t real to me yet, but he’s loving it. Here.” Drake reached out to blot her cheek with his napkin. “Cheese juice.”

  He wiped it gently over her cheek. Pausing with the napkin still in his hand, their gazes locked for a long moment.

  Before she knew it, he’d sat his plate down on the coffee table and leaned forward, pressing his mouth to hers, hot and sweet.

  Molly fell into the heat of him.

  Only days before, they had kissed and stroked and done the things she’d been fantasizing about for the last year. She seemed to have developed an addiction to him—that tryst in the garden had only brought her dreams to life—and it seemed so long ago. She’d been thinking too often of when they might make love again.

  What started out as a simple kiss, turned hot and hungry in the space of a second. His mouth gentle on hers, at first, turned demanding and hungry while she felt his body straining against hers.

  The pizza lie forgotten on the table as she kissed him for all she was worth. His kiss was the drug she craved and she just caved in. He smelled like clean man—healthy and heady. And his mouth moving on hers made her lose her mind.

  In a gesture so sweet as to break her heart, he brought his hand to her cheek while he kissed her, cradling and gently holding her there.

  Molly’s heart flipped-flopped in her chest. She’d known him all of her adult life and she’d grown steadily more in love with him in the last year. This was what she wanted, what she’d longed for.

  They slid back on the suede couch until they were horizontal, still kissing. Clinging to the breadth of his wide shoulders, Molly met him kiss for kiss. There was no fighting it anymore. This was the man she loved—had loved all these months—and kissing him, making love with him, had filled her dreams. Above her, he groaned as she touched him, pulling him to her, pr
essing tight to his body, his torso against hers as they strained together as if they could somehow merge.

  Like a sudden fire bursting into life, hunger and need filled the space around them. She felt his thigh sliding between hers, riding against the ache there. And he kissed her, his tongue against hers, breath mingling until she was filled with an urgent need. She wanted to touch him everywhere and wanted him to touch her all over.

  Slipping out from under Drake, she knelt beside the couch, pulling her shirt over her head. With only her jeans and a bra on, she reached for him. He pulled her under him again and began pressing hot kisses across her bare chest above her bra. With one hand, he fumbled at the bra’s catch at her back and the other hand cupped her, kneading her breast urgently.

  “Your shirt,” she gasped out, pulling at the jersey.

  Drake straightened, yanking the garment over his head before swiftly returning to his task. She stroked her palm over the hot silk of his chest, his arms. Feeling his erection pressing against her through his jeans. He was glorious and she stroked her palms up his muscled biceps and across his powerful back.

  He was such a beautiful man. She’d wanted to do this, to touch him in a way friends didn’t.

  Finally, he got the bra clasp undone and she felt the straps loosen as he yanked it off her. He bent to her breasts, putting his mouth to one and then the other. Both wore only their jeans, bare from the waist up and she ran her hands over him while he buried his face in her breasts. He held her, turning from one to the other, kissing and suckling a path of heat over her skin.

  Grasping at the jeans snap at his waist, she yanked at it, popping his waist band open and, while he still nuzzled at her, she plunged her hand down the front of his pants. Drake groaned as she slid beneath his underpants and grasped him in her hand. She felt on fire with him—his smell all around her, the fire of his touch on her skin. Still cradling her against him, he thrust a little into her hand.

  “Oh, God. You feel…so good,” he groaned. “I want you…so bad.”

  Pulling her hand out of his jeans, Drake brought it to his mouth and kissed her there. “Sweetie, I want to be inside you, but we have a ways to go. If you touch me like that, I’ll go off like a teenager.”

  Her chest rising and falling with every gasping breath, she watched him stand up by the couch and let him pull her to her feet. Bending briefly to suckle at her nipples, he popped open her jeans snap and crouched next to her, pulling them down. When he’d tugged them over her hips, he stopped, pressing a hot kiss to her tiny underwear.

  “So sexy,” Drake mumbled, still pulling her jeans down her legs. He kissed the curve of her hip, his hand on her backside as he pressed his lips there.

  Before he could strip off the wisp of her underwear down her legs, she started tugging at his jeans, wanting him bare against her. She straightened to again run her hands over his chest and press kisses against his mouth.

  He drew her into his arms, kissing her back, hot and deep before he dropped his hand to her mound, rubbing gently as his mouth took hers again and again. She writhed against him, drawing him closer to her, her hands on his backside. From their previous interlude, she remembered the tightness of his muscled rear and the power of his thighs and she clutched him through his briefs.

  “Here,” he said after a moment. “You sit.”

  Pushing her down so she sat on the coffee table, Drake spread her legs wide and positioned himself in front of her. He lifted each breast, kissing the tips until she whimpered. While his mouth was busy drawing her nipples in, he stroked the soft skin at her apex.

  When she cried out, he pulled his shorts down, grabbed a condom and quickly sheathed himself before burying hilt-deep inside her. With her hips held in his grasp, he pulled her to sit at the edge of the table.

  At the feel of him pushing inside, she cried out again, arching back as pleasure splintered through her. Drake drove in again and again, his arm braced around her waist. He pumped into her and she lost touch with anything but him, feeling herself tightening around him.

  When he paused, bending to suckled at her breasts again, she murmured a protest. His breath was hot against her skin when he sat back on the couch, pulling her onto his lap.

  “Here,” he said, his voice deep and guttural. “Yeah, right…there.”

  Feeling herself filled again with him, Molly began rocking, thrusting herself against the hard man inside and all around her. Caught up in her own sensation, she felt his body stiffen under her, thickening inside until she pulled at him, mewing and crying out with her pleasure.

  Drake held her hips in his iron grip, pulling her against him over and over until he jerked and his head fell against her shoulder as his panting breath filled her ears. They sat like that for several long moments. She felt her heart pounding in her ears and she sheltered against him as they clung together.

  Gradually, her speeding heart settled down and Drake sat back against the couch, smiling lazily up at her.

  “Damn you’re good, honey.” He heaved a few more breaths.

  “That was freakin’ great.” Shifting back, he settled her bare bottom more comfortably against his legs. “Geez. It’ll take me a while to recover, but I’d sure as hell like to do that again.”

  Straddling him, Molly looked into his face and tried to catch her breath. She’d like to do it again, too—for the next fifty years, but her brain was kicking in and she couldn’t help wondering what the heck she was doing.

  “Hey, do you want a drink? I could sure use one.” Drake grinned at her again. “You are amazing. Did I say that before? I mean…amazing. It’s no wonder I need hydration.”

  A sinking feeling settled in her gut as he slid her off his lap and went into the kitchen, without waiting for her to reply.

  She sat naked on the couch and suddenly remembered everything she’d ever read about, discussed or recommended for other friends—if no relationship was agreed on, sex was just sex.

  And even if it was really, really good sex, this was only part of what she wanted with Drake.

  The pizza lie still at the end of the coffee table—pushed aside in their frenzy—and her gaze rested on it while she grappled with where this was headed.

  “Hey,” Drake called, still clinking around in the kitchen. “Wouldn’t it be crazy if the Women’s League knew you were this hot, sexy babe?”

  Still naked, he rounded the corner, carrying two bottles of water. “But I really, really like this side of you. I mean—really, really like it.”

  Watching him sit down next to her, Molly knew she needed to say something—anything, really. She and Drake had been friends for too long for her to suddenly turn into one of those sex girls.

  “Drake?”

  Having unscrewed the top, he handed her a bottle of water. “Here, babe. Let’s get hydrated for the next round. Maybe have some carbs or something, because in a few minutes I—am—going—to—wear—you—out.”

  Molly sat the opened bottle of water on the coffee table. “Drake, what is this?”

  “What do you mean?” He took a swig from his bottle. “It’s water. Did you want something else? A beer, maybe?”

  “No.” She shook her head, trying again, “This. The sex we’re having. What…does it mean?”

  He frowned at her. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “Okay.” Getting up from the couch, she went around the coffee table, turning to look at him. “I’ve known you a long time. We’ve been friends since we met in high school. We help each other out. We hang out together.”

  “Well, there was that dating interlude in high school,” he commented. “We didn’t get to be friends until after you dumped me for the quarterback.”

  Drake smiled at her, saying as she rolled her eyes. “But of course, I’ve forgiven you for that.”

  “Thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from the word. “I hoped our friendship since that time has earned your forgiveness about that. As I was saying—we’ve been friends a long time.”
r />   He raised his water bottle in a salute of agreement.

  “Right. Friends for a long time. But I tell you what—“ Drake shook his head. “I remembered how sweet your boobs felt back then, but little did I know that was only the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. Girl, you burn so hot, I could barely keep up with you. You are freakin’ amazing. I want to do you again. Soon.”

  He took a long swig of water.

  In a sudden rush, Molly wished she could climb back into her clothes. Somehow, this was a conversation that needed clothes on.

  She swallowed, trying again. “Drake, in all the time you’ve known me, have I ever indulged in random sex? I mean other than the couple of drunken nights in college, which you know I still regret. Ever as an adult?”

  Swallowing his mouthful of water, he sat the bottle down on the table, seeming to have realized she wasn’t kidding here. “No. I don’t think I’ve heard about any subsequent random messing around. Of course, I probably don’t hear every aspect of your life, but no.”

  This was the moment, Molly decided. If she was ever going to gamble on anything, this was it.

  “Drake, what are we doing here? Are we starting something or just getting our rocks off? If this is just messing around for you, it needs to stop.” She paused, taking a deep breath before going on. “I want to stop. I need more.”

  He stared at her, lifting his water bottle in his hand. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying. Wasn’t it good for you? You seemed to be having a great time.”

  “I was.” Pausing as she struggled, she sent him a painful smile. “I was having a really good time, but that’s because—because you mean a lot to me. Not just a hot ass in a tight pair of jeans. You’re my friend, but…I don’t want to be a friend with benefits. Not with you. Like I said, I want more.”

  His earlier expression of confusion shifted to irritation. “You mean a lot to me, too. You’ve been my best friend, helping me out with the blog thing and…and I thought the benefits part was great. I don’t see a reason to forgo that.”

  Reaching over, she snagged her discarded shirt and struggled into it without her bra. She needed some protection from the brutality of this conversation, even if it was symbolic. “I didn’t say we had to forgo that. I said I don’t want to be a friend with benefits for you.”