by Cox, Chloe
“Declan…” she said, and trailed off. Was she really going to ask?
“What is it?” he asked.
What she wanted to say was, ‘I love you, too. I am hopelessly, hopelessly in love with you, and I’m terrified.’ But she couldn’t. Declan was strong enough to come out and say it, not even needing her to say it back, because he was…Declan. He knew he’d carry on, keep on being the strong, dominant man he always was. Molly wasn’t sure of herself like that.
She couldn’t say it, but she knew what she wanted. She wanted all of him. She wanted to be as close to him as she could.
“Why did you get a vasectomy?” she asked.
Declan rolled her fully on top of him where she could rest her chin on her hands and put his hands behind his head. He narrowed his eyes, thinking.
“You aren’t going to tell me?” she asked.
“I’m going to tell you,” he said. “But I think you already know the answer.”
Molly tried to hide her smile, but couldn’t. She did like being right, even when gloating was completely inappropriate. Even worse, she could feel his cock already getting bigger beneath her, pressing into her belly.
“Maybe,” she allowed. “But I shouldn’t feel like this while I ask you about it.”
“Feel like what?”
She swallowed. “Feel like I want you.”
“You always want me,” he said, steadily. “Just like I always want you.”
This was undeniably true.
“Tell me why you think I did it,” he demanded.
Molly suddenly felt tears prick at her eyes. She’d cried more in the weeks she’d known Declan than in the previous four years, and still she wanted to be around this man as much as possible. Most of that had been good tears, anyway. Cathartic tears. This time she was crying for the boy Declan had been. “I think it was because you didn’t have a very happy childhood,” she said softly.
“Yup,” he agreed. “And I’m not going to risk doing that to a kid.”
“Not ever?” she asked.
He smiled slowly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I never say never. Maybe if I start believing in happy endings,” he said.
Molly felt a twinge, deep inside, deeper than she was really willing to look, because, well, maybe she wanted to believe in that, too. Maybe she was already starting to. She quelled the anxiety that came with that thought and focused on the here and now, the thing she thought she was ready for.
“It is reversible,” she said. “But that’s not really why I was asking.”
“I know.”
“I want to feel you,” she said suddenly, looking into his eyes. “All of you. Inside me.”
Declan didn’t look surprised, but he didn’t say anything, either, not for a long while. Molly hadn’t felt this nervous since before the first time they’d had sex. Didn’t he want to? Did he—
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said immediately. “Declan, I don’t want to be trapped by this anymore. You’ve already…”
She stopped herself, not wanting to get so emotional again. He knew anyway. He already knew all he’d done for her.
“You’ve already shown me so much, and I was carrying so much baggage with me, Dec, and I’ve let a lot of it go,” she said. “Because of you, this—whatever. I’ve let it go. And I want to let this go, too. I know it’s not the smartest reasoning, necessarily, but the truth is that I fucking want it. I want to know what you feel like inside me, bare, skin to skin,” she said, sitting up with him as he rose from the bed, keeping her in his lap. He looked like he was ready to devour her. His cock was rock hard against her vulva as she straddled him, and she sighed.
“I want it so bad, Declan, and the only reason I haven’t asked yet is because I’m held hostage by my past. And I don’t want to live like that anymore. Please,” she said, locking her eyes with his. “Help me with this, too.”
“Jesus,” he said. He was looking at her with awe. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”
“Not as much as me,” she said, and was thrilled to hear him groan.
She kissed him, letting her hair fall around his face, letting her tongue slowly search out his. He let her take the lead for all of a second before she felt him surge, his body tightening around hers, his mouth devouring her. She moaned into his mouth as he bit her lip again, harder this time, hungrier. Declan pitched forward, holding her in his arms so he could play with her breasts, his mouth hot and urgent on her nipples, pulling, biting, sucking.
Molly moaned again and moved her hips, rubbing her wetness on his bare, hard cock, and the effect was electric. Declan jumped and threw her forward with a grunt, pinning on her back and pushing her legs wide, wide open.
“Look at me,” he growled, and moved the head of his cock between her aching folds. As if she could look anywhere else. He held her eyes while plowed into her, slowly, forcefully, dragging out every single inch until beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and Molly’s legs trembled around him.
She gasped for air while he lay motionless inside her, heavy and hot, every nerve screaming under his touch.
“You are so beautiful,” he said to her, before he thrust them both into oblivion.
chapter 29
Declan lay in the murky dawn light covered in a cold sweat and tried to make sense of his asshole brain.
He’d woken up from the worst dream he’d ever had next to the woman he loved, and now he was replaying the last twenty-four hours, trying to figure out what was real.
Molly leaving. That feeling that he had lost her, the way he lost everyone, because she’d disappeared. Finding her again, in her own home, finding Lydia, knowing he could do something to help, finally, maybe.
Molly’s tears. Molly coming with him inside her, skin to skin. Molly’s face when he told her he loved her.
Jesus.
And then by the time they drove out of Pleasant Valley, Molly ducking down so no one would see her, Lydia was already asleep at Volare, tuckered out. He’d made Molly dinner and fed it to her in bed, the two of them starving for each other, making love until they were both too exhausted to move.
Then sleep.
Then: nightmares. Or flashbacks, or flash-forwards, whatever the fuck they were, rising up to tear him apart from the inside, reminding him of what ‘real’ was. Finding Bethany, pale and blue at the edges, a thin trail of white vomit on her cheek. Picking her up, so frighteningly light in his arms. It couldn’t be right. Looking down as he rushed to his car and for that one moment, that one terrifying moment, he saw his mom, and he was back there, too weak to carry her, and he almost dropped Bethany…
No more memories from that night, not after coming back from the ER and finding Soren. And then everything broke apart.
And this time, in the dream, it was Molly in his arms. And he couldn’t hold her, couldn’t get her out to a car, couldn’t find a phone. Molly, pale blue and dead weight, heavier than he could carry.
Declan couldn’t get that image out of his mind. He turned over just to look at Molly’s sleeping face, but every time he closed his eyes it came rushing back.
He’d been awake for hours.
This was what happened with people he loved.
“Fuck,” he said, sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Maybe he had to deal with this shit, but he wasn’t going to wake Molly up. He wasn’t going to let any of this baggage fall on her head, not like he had with Soren.
Damn.
Declan pulled on his jeans and padded downstairs barefoot, glad that Volare was full of late risers. He’d asked Adra to stay here as long as Lydia was here, make sure Lydia had plenty of support, not have it all fall on Molly, and he knew that was a challenge since Ford was here while he was renovating his new house. So there were people around, but it was still the quiet hour. He needed it. And maybe some food. He’d think clearly with some food in him.
Maybe he could get rid of this sense of impending disaster
, too.
That image of Molly. Jesus.
So Declan was half in the kitchen already, rubbing his tired face with his hand, before he realized he wasn’t alone. Lydia was munching on cereal, her eyes laughing while she…checked him out?
“Good job, Mol,” Lydia said.
Declan frowned. The girl wasn’t even eighteen yet.
“I’m kidding!” Lydia said. “Come on, I’m not blind, and you’re walking around without a shirt.”
“What are you doing up?” he asked. “Don’t you need to sleep for two or something?”
Lydia just shrugged. “Yeah, no idea. I’ve been waking up super early the past few weeks, going to bed early.” She took another bite of cereal, which Declan finally got a look at.
He took the bowl.
“You’re not eating this sugar crap,” he said.
“Hey!”
“Sit down,” he ordered. “I’ll make you breakfast. Do you have your vitamins?”
“They’re upstairs. I’m not supposed to take them on an empty stomach,” Lydia said. She was watching Declan critically now. “You are bossy, huh? But Molly seems to like you.”
Declan frowned and went hunting for eggs. She liked him, yes. He loved her. And his reaction to that, as he lined up milk, eggs, tomatoes, cheese, and every other delicious thing he could find on the kitchen island before Lydia’s great big eyes, was: fuck yes, and thank God.
Thank God she hadn’t said it back. How fucked up was that, that he was relieved that the girl he was in love with didn’t love him back? But it made sense, in his head. He wouldn’t want to have to explain it to anyone else but Soren, who would know, automatically, but that dream? That dream was a reminder. Things didn’t turn out too good for the women in his life. He was never there in the end, when they needed them. The idea of failing Molly like that…
Declan felt like a walking time bomb.
“You ok?” Lydia asked. “That’s a lot of eggs.”
Declan looked down. He’d cracked at least eight in that bowl without even noticing, but he was suddenly ravenous, too. “You think I’m making breakfast just for you?”
Lydia stuck out her tongue and smiled. “No. But you are making me breakfast.”
Declan smiled, shaking his head. This was Molly’s sister, all right. And despite whatever shitshow was going on in his brain, that meant he felt responsible.
“So what about the father, Lydia?” he asked.
She groaned and kind of slumped over the counter, another reminder that eighteen was so goddamn young. How could Molly only be five years older than that? The answer came to him almost immediately and made him want to punch the world right in the dick: it was because Molly had had to live way too much in those five years.
“Lydia,” he said, his tone a warning.
“He’s not in the picture,” she sighed. “He’s younger than me, for one thing. He’ll be a senior this year. And I haven’t told him.”
Declan put down his bowl of eggs.
“Please don’t tell Molly,” Lydia said.
“Are you fucking serious?” Declan said.
“I know, I know! I just…I remember what happened to Molly, when she told, and I just think it’ll all be easier…”
Lydia seemed to physically shrink, all the teenage bravado and near womanhood falling away, leaving her looking like a frightened child. It was astonishing. Declan’s Dom sense went into overdrive and he watched her face, watched her recoil from something he couldn’t see. Like she was afraid of a memory. Declan couldn’t let it stand.
“Lydia,” he said, taking her hand, “You are safe here. That’s the whole point. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“You don’t understand,” she murmured.
“Molly’s told me about some of it,” he said gently.
Lydia took that cue and shook her head, getting a little angry. “No, you weren’t there. You can’t understand what they did to her. But it was worse because it wasn’t like… I mean, Robbie wasn’t always an asshole, you know? Like, Molly had no warning. And I don’t know if you know this, but our mom was…”
He watched Lydia close her eyes and take a deep breath, a gesture so like her sister’s that Declan could only marvel at it. He could tell she’d needed someone to tell this story to for a long time.
“What about your mom?” he asked.
Lydia exhaled. “She was a shitty mom, ok? It feels so terrible to say that about her, because she’s dead and everything, but she really wasn’t… I don’t know. Molly basically raised me, but I don’t think anyone raised her. And Robbie was so sweet when they started going out, you wouldn’t believe it. Like, he made her think that he would be there forever, and he’d always, always take care of her, and she believed him. And I believed him. I used to dream about having a boyfriend like Robbie. I used to dream that one day…”
“What?”
Suddenly Lydia laughed, blushing, looking out the window onto the private garden outside. “It’s super embarrassing.”
“I think we’re tight enough for embarrassing stories.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, ok, fine. I used to fantasize that Robbie would have a little brother. Like a long lost half brother or something, only better looking, and my age? And then we’d both have our boyfriends and go on, like…double dates. Oh God. You’re laughing.”
“No, I’m not,” Declan said, hiding his smile by turning to test the heat. When he turned back, he was serious. “That is pretty cute, though.”
“Yeah, I bet you have plenty of dumb fantasies, too,” Lydia smirked.
“Keep talking or no omelet for you,” he warned.
“Ok, fine. But you owe me an embarrassing story.”
“We’ll see. Talk.”
“Ok, so, Robbie was amazing,” Lydia said. She was animated now, like just getting this out was doing wonders for her. “He was perfect. Until one day he wasn’t. I guess he was just playing a part, the way some people do? And now he tries to be big man in the park, just another part. Anyway, it was like a switch was flipped…he was just so mean. Like he wanted to erase her completely, and was so pissed off that he couldn’t that he just tried to hurt her as much as he could all of the time. One time I found him and his friends throwing bottles at her. They had cornered her and they were throwing fucking bottles at her.”
Declan let the pan crash on the stove and turned around.
Had he heard that right?
“They threw bottles at her?” he asked.
Lydia was silent, staring at him. Declan forced himself to relax and saw it spread to Lydia, who reached for the cereal again. This time he let it go. He didn’t want to scare Lydia with the shit he was thinking about doing to the men who had thrown bottles at a pregnant teenage girl.
“Yeah,” Lydia said, still looking at him. “Worse than that, too. I think that’s why she lost the baby, because of what he put her through. And it all started when she told him she was pregnant and he, like, had to deny it was his, so he told all these lies about her cheating. So anyway. I’m not, like, super excited to tell Zack.”
“Jesus Christ,” Declan said.
What he’d known about was bad enough. But that level of harassment? What kind of fucking animal would do that to someone, let alone someone he had once loved?
This was too much. Declan was already struggling with his own bullshit, his own fears about failing Molly, about how he inevitably would fuck up, and how whenever he fucked up, it was a disaster. It had been maybe manageable when he thought that the stakes weren’t so high. So long as she didn’t love him. But what if she started to? She’d been failed by everybody before him. Worse than that. Attacked. Hounded. He felt his blood begin to surge, his muscles tense, his asshole brain telling him to go…
Fuck. How much damage was Declan going to do to her when he inevitably fucked up?
“You know, I’m so glad she has you now,” Lydia said. “You don’t even know. I can see that she’s starting to, like…I do
n’t know, thaw? She’s always insisting she doesn’t need anybody or anybody’s help or whatever, but when she looks at you she seems, I don’t know, normal. Not like a superwoman or whatever. I don’t know how to put it, exactly,” she said, throwing some Cocoa Puffs in the air and catching them. She had a pensive look on her face.
Then Lydia went on, oblivious to the loathsome dread snaking through Declan’s heart.
“You know what it is? I think she can trust you. Like, I think she wants to trust you. Just be patient with her, ok? It might take her a while, but I promise you, when Molly opens up or whatever, she’s all in. Just be patient.” Lydia smiled at him. “I mean, I have to try to be a good sister, too, right?”
Declan gripped the edge of the stove, sweat gathering on his brow.
The last person who had trusted him was Bethany.
No. The last person who had trusted him was Soren.
He’d failed them both. He let Bethany slide under. He ruined Soren’s life for something that Bethany did just because it made him feel like shit.
And before all of that, his mother.
Declan looked down and saw that his thumb was on the electric burner. Sizzling. He didn’t feel it. Felt only cold. Dread. Fear, for Molly.
The truth was, Declan was prepared to love Molly. He wasn’t prepared to be loved by her. And he had had no idea that he was this fucked up.
“Declan, you ok?” Lydia asked.
Declan didn’t answer as he ran his finger under the tap. Seemed pointless. He wasn’t thinking about himself, anyway.
chapter 30
The next day and half moved both too quickly and too slowly at the same time. Molly barely had any time with Declan, when that was, shamefully, all she really wanted. She should have been thinking about Lydia. And she was, it was just that Lydia herself seemed…totally transformed. She seemed happy. Relaxed. She wasn’t the mess that Molly had been years before, possibly because Lydia’s future looked a whole lot different than Molly’s had.
Molly didn’t even know if Lydia was going to keep the baby. She wasn’t sure Lydia knew. And watching Lydia gleefully walk through apartment showings, planning what kind of furniture they’d get, and how she would decorate her bedroom, concerning herself with, frankly, not the highest of priorities, Molly remembered that Lydia was still a kid, really, and Lydia as a mom kind of frightened her.