by Jill Shalvis
He was torn between laughing again and fighting a sensation he didn’t quite recognize, but whatever it was, it sent a warmth through his chest. Been a long time since someone had worried about him. Well, okay, his family worried about him, but he did his best to keep them in the dark on the actual danger level of his job.
Molly knew. And she understood.
And she worried about him.
And it wasn’t just tonight either. Four nights ago, she’d caught on to the fact that he’d been out of commission after stupidly mixing pain meds and alcohol, and she’d personally taken on the matter of his safety by getting him home.
That was new for him. And not entirely unwelcome. He’d been feeling off since getting shot. Off and alone. But actually, if he was being honest, it’d been longer than that, a lot longer. He’d cut himself off from feeling too much after losing Carrie and then a few years later, his brother, Josh in an arson fire.
But he was feeling again now and he knew that was Molly.
What he didn’t know was what to do about it.
Back at the car, Molly closed her eyes with a tired sigh. “You’re staring,” she murmured.
When she’d climbed into the passenger seat, the little elf costume had crept up her thighs again. A very nice view, but mostly he was hoping she wasn’t in pain. She was, though, he could see it in the tightness around her mouth and eyes, but God forbid he reveal an ounce of empathy; she’d likely kill him. “Does it make me an asshole to tell you that I like the way you look in that costume?” he asked.
She let out a low laugh. “Well you’re honest at least.”
He started to ask what the “at least” meant but her phone rang. She answered and listened a moment. “Joe, I can’t take tomorrow night for you. I told you that already, I’m working on something—” She paused and sighed. “So let me get this straight. You’ve got a really great girlfriend and she’s taking you on some fantastic mystery surprise date tomorrow night with the promise of God knows what afterward and you figured what the hell, Molly doesn’t have a life, I’ll get her to take my night. Is that it?”
Lucas winced for Joe.
“No, really,” Molly said in that same conversational voice. “By all means, let me help you make your already awesome, amazing life even better. I’ll handle it.” She disconnected and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. “Don’t,” she said quietly.
“Don’t what?” Lucas asked.
“Tell me I’m not nice. I already know it.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Because I am nice?” she asked dryly.
“Because you already know you’re not nice.”
At that, she snorted.
“And Molly? You do so have a life.”
She opened her eyes and met his. “You think so, huh?”
“Yes. You have a lot of good friends, and you’re always doing things like girls’ night out and shopping and spa stuff. And you have a good job that keeps you busy, and a family you care about.”
“I do have good friends,” she agreed. “But I don’t let any of them too close because I’m bad at that. And my job isn’t fulfilling me, which has me chasing down a bad Santa that no one but me thinks is bad.”
“I think he’s bad,” he said.
She sighed. “Thanks.” And then she closed her eyes again.
“And your family,” he said carefully.
“What about them?”
He didn’t know much and he wanted to know more. In fact he was surprised by how badly he wanted that. But prying with Molly had never worked. She didn’t like questions. “You say you don’t let anyone too close. But you’re close with Joe, even when you’re yelling at him.”
“We’re close because we’ve had to be, you know?”
“Actually, no,” he said. “I don’t. The only person more closed-mouthed about yours and Joe’s past is Joe.”
She let out a low laugh and shrugged. “It’s a lifelong habit,” she admitted. “Mostly because there’s not all that much to say. We’re really not all that different from anyone else.”
He glanced over at her dryly.
“Okay,” she said on a low laugh. “So we’re a little closed off and maybe kinda hard to get to know, and not always . . . welcoming. But until Joe fell in love with Kylie a few months ago, it’s been just him and me against the world, sharing custody of our dad.”
“Don’t you have that backwards? You mean your dad had custody of you guys?”
“No.” She turned and looked out the window, giving him the back of her head. “We take care of him, always have.”
He resisted the urge to run a hand down her hair because she would take that as pity when what he really wanted to give was comfort. “How long ago did you lose your mom?”
“She died when I was a few years old. My dad was in the military. He came back from the gulf war to be with us. Only he wasn’t . . . the same. He had PTSD, though no one really knew it back then. He could manage to hold it together for a while, but then he’d lose it.”
“Did you have other family to help?”
“No, but we did okay. It wasn’t until I was around ten that he stopped being able to work entirely. And he needed caring for. So that’s what Joe and I did.”
Lucas tried to imagine this. He’d had a mom and a dad, both extremely active in all their kids’ lives. He’d had his siblings and cousins to keep him in line. He hadn’t lost Josh until four years ago. So he had absolutely zero experience to compare Molly’s childhood to. “Must’ve been rough, growing up like that.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know any different.”
That she didn’t appear to know about his brother’s death meant she hadn’t made use of Hunt’s computer programs to look him up. If she’d wanted to, she could discover how many fillings he’d had when he was eight. Or that in eleventh grade he’d gotten caught with the vice principal’s daughter in the janitor’s closet. Or that when he was twenty-four, his fiancée, Carrie, had died in a car accident and he’d missed her funeral because he’d been so deep undercover for the DEA at the time no one could reach him.
Or that when he’d lost his firefighter brother a few years later to an arson fire, he’d checked out of life for a good year, losing his job at the DEA while he was at it. Not that he’d cared much at the time. The memories of those gut-wrenching days always threatened to send him back to the deep, dark pit of hell he’d landed in. It was getting slightly easier to remember, but only slightly, and that in itself caused a setback because forgetting the pain meant he was forgetting Josh and he didn’t want to ever forget.
Molly put her hand on his arm and it was the oddest thing, but even though she didn’t know what she’d stirred up inside him, her touch settled him.
The drive home was quiet after that. Usual for him. Extremely unusual for Molly, who normally couldn’t do quiet to save her own life. He glanced over at her several times, but she seemed quite content to let the silence keep them company. “You good?” he asked.
She nodded.
He’d grown up with a nosy older sister and an even nosier mom. He knew when a woman was full of shit, but he also knew better than to call her out on it. “Hold up,” he said, reaching for her hand and holding onto it when he stopped in front of her place and she tried to hop out.
“No need. ’Night,” she said, looking to suddenly be in a hurry to escape him. That, or she didn’t trust herself—most likely wishful thinking on his part.
“I’m walking you up,” he said.
“Not necessary.”
“Molly, you just ruffled a whole bunch of feathers of a guy I don’t trust, not to mention his brother Tommy Thumbs. I don’t know about you, but I’m fond of your thumbs.”
“I thought you weren’t sure the Tommy Thumbs part was real.”
“Let’s just say that I’m keeping all our options open,” he said and got out of the car, coming around in time to catch her struggling to get in the little elf uniform wit
hout flashing her goodies to the world.
Reaching in, he easily hauled her up, blocking the money shot from anyone who might be around.
He kept his gaze on hers as she thanked him a bit breathlessly and yanked at the hem of the dress. Apparently, she hadn’t figured out that when she did that, the top of the stretchy sparkling elf green dress pulled taut across her breasts, both of which threatened to break free with each tug.
Around them, the night was near silent. Her neighborhood skewed older and quiet. It was nearing midnight. All the seniors were probably tucked into bed, hearing aids off, lights off.
“Dammit,” she murmured.
Already on high alert, he scanned their surroundings. “What?”
“I left my porch light on so I wouldn’t come home to complete darkness, but it’s off now. Which means my electricity’s out again.”
He reached for her hand, slowing her down so that he was slightly ahead of her. Letting her realize he was actively protecting her was always a gamble against the house, but she just shook her head. “It’s not Tommy looking to chop off my thumbs,” she said. “It’s my neighbor’s doing. Wait here.” Breaking free, she crossed the narrow common grass area to pound on the door next to hers. “Mrs. Berkowitz!” she called. “You’ve got to stop using your, um”—she glanced over at Lucas with an odd expression he couldn’t quite place—“massager while you’re waiting for your clothes to dry. You blew out the electricity again!”
A woman’s voice sounded from inside. “I’m sorry, honey, but a woman’s got needs!”
Molly sighed and headed back to her porch where Lucas stood, unable to keep from grinning.
“It’s not funny,” she said. “It could be tomorrow before the power company gets us sorted.”
He could hear the oddest sound coming from the region of their feet. Pulling out his phone, he thumbed on his flashlight and found the biggest, blackest cat he’d ever seen winding around Molly’s legs.
“TC,” she said in a warm, fond voice that Lucas had never heard from her before.
“Meow,” the cat answered.
“Aw, poor baby’s hungry,” Molly murmured to the cat who could probably eat them both whole if he wanted. She scooped a cup of food from a bin beneath her porch chair and filled an empty bowl. “There you go, pretty baby. Who’s a good kitty?”
The cat didn’t answer. He was head deep in the bowl, his purring turned up another notch as he inhaled his food.
“TC?” Lucas asked, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“Short for Tom Cat,” she said. “He’s a stray. I’ve tried to adopt him, but he won’t come inside. So I feed and love up on him whenever he shows up. It’s all he’ll allow.”
“He doesn’t look like he’s having trouble getting enough food,” he said diplomatically.
Molly laughed. “I think everyone on the block feeds him. He’s got a good gig. When I’m not quick enough to fill his bowl, he hangs off the front door screen and stares at me until I come outside.” She fumbled through her purse for her keys, which Lucas took from her.
He unlocked the door. She moved inside the dark place without hesitation, having the benefit of knowing the layout. He followed and when he heard her drop her keys, he bent to grab them—at the same time she did the same thing.
They bumped into each other and cracked heads. Hard. He saw stars, but reached for her, knowing she’d gotten it worse. “Shit. Sorry. You okay?”
“No! You’ve got the hardest head on the planet!”
“Are you sure?” he asked, gently running his hand over her head. “Because I’m thinking we’re probably tied in that category.”
They were face-to-face, plastered up against each other. The air seemed to crackle and they stared at each other for a long beat. Finally, he felt Molly take a deep breath. “You know,” she said softly, “Sadie’s pretty invested in me letting you be The One for a night.”
He felt a surprised smile curve his lips. “Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“And how about you?”
“I didn’t want to admit it, but I’m starting to rethink things.”
Lucas was pretty sure his mind was playing tricks on him. But the truth was, he wanted her more than he’d wanted anyone in a long time, maybe ever, and that was saying something. He ran his hands up and down her arms and could feel goose bumps covering her skin.
And it wasn’t from being cold.
She was still leaning into him. He was six feet. Molly was five foot two in her bare feet, but she had a love affair for sexy-as-hell shoes, the higher the better, which he suspected played a role in her leg and back problems. At the moment she wore boots with at least three inches on them, though they were covered with the green elf shoe covers. Still, they put her at a convenient height that could make them both very, very happy.
“Rethink away,” he murmured. “Let me know what you decide.”
Chapter 13
#Scrooge
Molly’s heart was pounding and she had no idea what she thought she was doing, rethinking anything to do with Lucas Knight.
Oh wait, she did know what she was doing.
She needed this. Needed him. It used to scare her how much she wanted him as well, but realism was her friend. They were both adults. They could do this and move on because, one, Lucas didn’t intend to get any more attached than she did, and two, it was pitch-dark and he wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing.
But even as she thought it, the electricity flickered back on and the porch light shone in through the window.
She blinked up as Lucas whispered her name, and then his lips met hers in what started out as a light, questing connection but quickly turned hot and insistent.
She looked up when she felt his arms tighten on her, finding his gaze dark and intense on hers. “You finished rethinking things?” he asked. “Because—”
He broke off whatever he’d planned on saying when she slid her hands beneath his shirt to touch . . . yum . . . hot, smooth skin and the tough lean muscles that flexed as he tightened his grip on her.
“Molly,” he said, his voice a rough timbre. “I’m going to need the words.”
“I’m done rethinking,” she admitted.
“And?”
“And I want you. For tonight.”
The jacket that was his, the one that he’d wrapped around her shoulders, was removed in the next breath, his own shirt next. Then he nudged her a few feet until the backs of her legs hit her couch. His mouth still on hers, he lowered them both to the cushions, settling his weight carefully over her. “Where’s the light?” he asked, voice husky thick.
“No light.”
He paused for the slightest of beats but then carried on, kissing across her jaw to her neck and down, whispering inaudibles all soft and sexy-like. She couldn’t concentrate enough to soak in the actual words, but the erotic intent reached her just fine.
Then he moved further south, his quick, talented fingers tugging the dress off her shoulders, along with the straps of her bra. When he captured a bare nipple in his mouth, the heat alone bowed her back and had her crying out. She tried biting her tongue to keep the helpless and revealing desperate sounds to herself, but she couldn’t shut herself up. Not then, and not when he smoothly divested her of the rest of her clothes.
And then his.
And then he was sliding off the couch, kneeling on the floor, nudging her legs open with his big, warm, callused hands as he headed southbound again, nibbling his way down her belly. A minute later he unerringly found the homeland, and in a shockingly short amount of time, her hands were fisted helplessly in his hair as she hovered on the verge of release.
And forget being quiet. She’d lost the ability to temper herself the minute he’d put his mouth on her. He worked her over using lips and teeth, and when he added his tongue into the mix, she burst with a shudder and a gasp that she couldn’t have held back if she’d tried.
He made a sound of deep, male satisfact
ion while she continued to attempt to suck more air into her lungs, gently kissing the inside of one thigh and then the other before shifting away for a second. She heard the crinkle of a condom packet and then he was back, sliding deep inside her in one slow, controlled push.
She’d forgotten how incredible it felt to be filled and stretched and taken with such carefully controlled power. Long, slow strokes, nearly all the way out and then back in deep and hard. It was more than she could take, and yet she wanted even more, showing him so by digging her fingers into the tense, fluidly shifting muscles of his back.
Lucas caught her wrists and pulled them away, linking his fingers with hers above her head as he rose over her, lifting his weight a little to better control his thrusts.
And for the first time, she wished the house electricity was back on. She couldn’t see much, a few flashes of his warrior’s body as he moved in the ambient porch light that slashed in from the gap in her shades. The sheen of his skin and the flex of the sinew moving beneath it, all the way down his chest and correlated abs to where they were joined. She watched, helplessly fascinated as his body surged into hers again and again. Unable to tear her gaze off him, she soaked him in, the way his neck was corded, his head thrown back in pleasure.
And then he dipped his head and caught her staring.
“Molly.” That was all he said, just her name in a low, strained voice, his expression caught between rapture and affection, and it might have been that completely unexpected emotion to send her spiraling over the edge again.
With a groan, he shifted, lowering his weight to his elbows, one hand sliding beneath her, arching her up to take him deeper. Now his entire body caressed hers with each movement and yet another wave began to build. Panting, she slid her hands into his hair and whispered his name as she continued to tremble. She could feel his mouth at her throat, feel the shudders of his own body as he let go of all that delicious control and gave into the erotic sensations.
When she came back to herself, they were on the floor in front of the couch and he was cradling her into the warmth of his body, holding her close. Curled against him, she could feel his heart beating beneath her ear in tune with hers.