Harry sat on the edge of the bed, his weight on the mattress making her body shift slightly in his direction.
"It's been said that my father painted hundreds of portraits of my mother because he was obsessed with her. And I'm not saying that wasn't part of it. But I also wonder if he never felt that he got it right, so he always wanted to try again. Especially when she was upset, or wasn't talking to him--that's when he would paint her the most. Almost as though he was hoping he could paint her into a different mood. Maybe even paint her into a different woman." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know if this will make any sense, but sometimes I think he was drawn to building houses because it's something that an inspector can look at every step of the way and tell him he's doing perfectly. I think it helped my father to know that he could build something that would withstand the harshest winds, the thickest snowstorms, the most thunderous rains, that would never fall or crumble. Because at least there, he got it right."
"It helped you too, didn't it?" Molly put her hand over his. "Knowing your father was able to find some peace, somewhere, at least some of the time."
Harry turned their hands over so that they were palm to palm. "Yes, it helped."
"But what about you?" Her words were barely more than a whisper. "Where do you go when you need to find peace?"
"To my memories." Emotion thrummed through every word he spoke as he lifted their hands and brought them to his lips. "Memories of you."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Harry had dreamed about Molly countless times over the years. Dreams in which they were together again, and he was stripping her bare, one piece of clothing at a time.
Only, now that they were finally together, she was the one stripping him bare, by making him want to share his emotions with her in a way he would never have let himself do before.
"Tell me you didn't forget." He pressed a kiss to the inside of her palm and felt her shiver of need. "Our laughter. Our adventures. Our passion."
"How could I?" Her words were barely more than a whisper. "You weren't just my first boyfriend. My first lover. You were my first everything."
"What if we tried again? Tried to get it right this time?"
"Harry..."
He was running his hands up her arms now, and though her heart was obviously torn, her body was leaning into his touch as he cupped her face.
"Tonight." He pressed a gentle kiss to her jaw. "Give me tonight." His lips found the hollow of her throat next, where her heartbeat was fluttering madly. "Give us tonight." He rained kisses along her neck until he reached her ear. "Let me love you the way I've wanted to love you for so long."
He nipped her earlobe, and she shuddered.
"No promises," she said. "Just one night to be together again."
"No promises." But he needed her to know he wasn't just after a one-night stand. "Not yet."
She stiffened slightly, but she didn't pull away. Still, he knew he'd pushed as hard as he could tonight. Knew that she would have to make the next move, to decide whether they would keep fighting the intense desire they felt for each other...or let themselves enjoy every sizzling, hot second of it.
She gazed into his eyes, looking so deeply he wondered if she could see all the way into the most secret parts of his soul. Then, finally, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
And kissed him.
Joy--and full-blown lust--exploded through Harry.
He wanted to be gentle, wanted to go slowly, wanted to linger and savor. But the need to have her in his arms again made it impossible to do anything but pull her against him, over him, so that they were chest to chest, hip to hip.
She laughed softly as she sprawled out on top of him, a husky sound he hadn't been sure he'd ever be lucky enough to hear again. Though it clearly hadn't been easy for her to make the decision to be with him tonight, now that she had, her laughter told him that she wasn't going to hold back.
Which was a very good thing, because Harry definitely wasn't planning to hold back.
Not when he was ready to make all of his wildest dreams--and hers--come true.
"You feel so good." Her voice was still soft, but as she rubbed herself over him, a sound like a purr came from her throat. She ran her hands over his bare chest, and he couldn't stop himself from flexing a little bit to make his muscles pop beneath her fingertips. "You've only gotten better with age."
He pushed the sweater off her shoulders, revealing the thin straps of the top she'd worn to bed, making sure to keep his voice for only the two of them. "So have you."
"Thank you for lying."
"I'm taking that as a challenge." He shoved the sweater all the way off, then cupped her hips with his hands. Barely covered by a pair of panties, he could feel the heat of her skin as he rolled her beneath him and drew her even closer.
"A challenge? For what?"
"To show you how incredibly beautiful you are." He slid one finger beneath the strap of her top. "Let's start here." Slowly, he slid it off her shoulder. "Your skin is so smooth." Then down lower so that the upper swell of her breast was bared to his caressing fingertips. "So soft." He used his tongue to follow the same path as his hands.
"Harry."
It had been so long--far, far too long--since he'd heard her say his name like that. As though he alone held the keys to wonder, to bliss, to ultimate pleasure.
He drew down the strap on the other side, baring the swell of her other breast.
Every touch, every taste, only made him greedy for more, and though he'd intended to tease, he needed to see, to feel all of her. A moment later, he'd pulled her top all the way down, letting it pool at her waist, while he gazed raptly at her beautiful bare breasts.
"Molly." He reached for her, cupping the soft flesh in his hands, running his thumbs over the taut peaks. "I want to be gentle, but I don't know if I can be tonight. Not when I want you this much."
"Don't hold back." She threaded her hands into his hair as he lowered his mouth to her breasts. "Please, Harry. Just love me."
He didn't know if she realized what she'd just said--that she'd asked him to love her. But as he drew circles over her aroused skin with his tongue, he could focus only on how much he wanted her. How nothing had ever been this good, not even when they were in college. How he'd never get enough of hearing her breathy sounds of pleasure as he moved from one breast to the other, of feeling her arch into him and knowing how badly she wanted to get even closer to him, because that was exactly what he wanted from her.
Years of longing, of waking up from dreaming of her and wishing it was real, made his hands, his movements, a little shaky as he reached for her panties and yanked them, along with the fabric around her waist, down her legs.
He shifted so that he could take all of her in, head to toe. "So damned beautiful." He had to touch, had to stroke, had to worship. Both of them watched, breath held, as he ran his hand from her breasts, over her stomach, then down between her thighs.
As soon as he touched her--so hot, so slick, so ready--a low moan escaped her lips and her eyelids fluttered shut. She arched her hips into his hand, and he captured her mouth in a searing kiss.
His tongue danced with hers as she writhed beneath him, so beautifully responsive she took his breath away.
"Nothing has ever been this good." He needed her to know the truth. His truth. Just as he needed her to know how much he valued her, every part of her. "Give me your pleasure, Molly. Come apart for me so that I can take you right back up to the peak, again and again. Let me love you tonight the way you deserve to be loved."
With every word he spoke, her hips quickened against his hand, her skin growing slicker, more aroused...until the moment a gasp left her lips and she pulled him to her, shuddering as he closed his mouth over hers and drank in her cries of pleasure.
At last, she stilled. Soft, and warm, and well loved.
Though a part of him wanted to keep holding her close, to stroke her hair, to breathe her in and relish the feel of her h
eart pounding against his, there was so much more he had to know. Would she still go crazy when he put his mouth over her the way she used to? So crazy that he'd barely have time to move, to think, before she wrapped her legs around him to take him straight to heaven with her?
He lingered at her lips a few seconds longer, then began the slow, sweet trip with his mouth over her neck, her shoulders, the hollow of her collarbone, her gorgeous breasts, the aroused peaks tempting him to savor them, before continuing down over her stomach to the sweetest part of her.
All the while, she was running her hands over his arms, his shoulders, his back. Any part of him she could reach. Instead of being replete, sated, if anything her touch had grown more feverish after her first climax.
"Do you remember the first time we were together?" He murmured the words against the lowest part of her belly. "When you were so innocent...and I was desperate to take you to the other side? Do you remember how you didn't know if you should let me taste you like this--" He licked her and her hips lifted.
"But then after you did," she whispered, "I didn't want you to ever stop."
Though hearing her say how much she'd loved being with him didn't erase the darkness from their past, it did help draw more light to the surface. Enough light that he hoped one day it would be all they could see. All they would remember when they looked back.
He took another taste of her, longer this time, relishing the chance to give both of them such fierce pleasure. "And now?" He was almost beyond words, nearly beyond thought. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No." She gasped the word as he put his hands on her thighs to spread her wider, hooked her legs over his shoulders, then reached for her hands to hold her tight. "Never stop."
Right then, right there, Harry nearly lost it. With Molly's hands gripping his. With her hips bucking against his mouth in an uneven rhythm. With her taste on his tongue. With her heat all around him.
Somehow, he held on to his control. Because he knew that if he could just make it through the most gorgeous orgasm that he'd ever been blessed to experience, amazingly, there would be more.
More.
My God, it was unthinkable that there could be more than this.
And yet...
Even with tremors still racking her frame, she was already moving. Already using her hands on his shoulders to pull him up and over to his back. Already climbing up over him. Already threading her hands into his hair and kissing him with enough passion to steal what was left of his breath away. Already shifting her hips over his so that she could take him inside with just the slightest movement.
She was nearly there--and so was he--when he realized, "I don't have any protection."
For all that he'd wished for the chance to be with her again, he'd never thought it would happen tonight. And even if he had, he would never have presumed to bring both frozen peas and condoms into her bedroom.
"I'm clean." She didn't move away. The opposite, in fact, her heat searing him as he throbbed against her. So desperate to be one with her again that he had no idea how he was managing to keep his hips still. "And I can't get pregnant. Not this week."
"There hasn't been anyone for a long time," he told her as he cupped her face to bring her mouth back to his. "And never without protection." But that wasn't good enough. "There's never been anyone like you, Molly. There never will be. Only you."
Before he could say anything more, she rocked her hips and took him inside in a glorious rush of mind-blowing pleasure. Nothing else mattered but moving with her, under her, inside of her.
Threading their fingers together, she lifted herself up on her knees so that she could take him more deeply with every thrust of her hips. He took her, gave to her, loved her with every ounce of who he was, body and soul.
Looking into her eyes, he knew he would never take her for granted ever again. No matter what else was going on in his life, Molly, and the beautiful family they made together, would always come first, always be the center of his heart.
And when she pressed her lips to his, the sweet emotion behind her kiss was what finally drove their bodies over the edge into ecstasy.
For long minutes, Harry couldn't hear anything beyond the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, couldn't feel anything but the aftershocks of the fiercest pleasure imaginable. They lay curled together on her bed, sweat drying on their skin as they both worked to catch their breath.
After a while, he realized that she'd fallen asleep. In the circle of his arms, right where he wanted her to be from this moment forward.
His chest swelled at the sure knowledge that she would have let herself sleep only if she felt safe. For all the mistakes he'd made in the past, he hoped this meant he was finally getting at least a few things right.
Moving carefully so that he didn't wake her, he pulled the covers up over them, pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then whispered, "I love you," before closing his eyes and letting sleep take him too.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The sun was barely rising when Molly's eyelids fluttered open. Still half asleep, she smiled as she thought about the wonderful dream she'd had, one in which all of her forbidden fantasies had come to life.
The shift of an arm over her waist--a very muscular arm--brought her completely awake.
How could she have thought it was a dream, even for five seconds?
And how could she have thought this was okay? That she and Harry could have one night together, one night to experience again the headiest pleasure she'd ever known, without ramifications?
It was an understatement to say that things with Harry had already been complicated. She'd known better than to further complicate them with sex.
Especially when it felt like so much more than sex.
The last thing she should do was let herself fall for Harry again. But if ever there was a fast train to falling for him, it was this. This warmth. This connection. This joy. This all-encompassing pleasure.
Last night, as soon as he'd looked into her eyes...told her that memories of her were what had gotten him through all the years...put his hand over hers and pressed a kiss to her skin? It truly had felt like being tossed onto a roller coaster right before it took off at full speed, then loving every moment of the thrilling ride.
Only now, in the clear light of day, was she forced to admit what a fool she'd been. To risk everything so hard won. Her independence. Even, possibly, her relationship with her daughter, if Amelia caught wind of what had happened and wasn't okay with it.
Okay, so all the signs pointed to Amelia hoping Molly and Harry would get back together. But that didn't mean she wanted her daughter to find out about them this way.
Especially when Molly still had no idea what them even meant just yet.
She wriggled out of Harry's arms. "Harry." She whispered his name, but he didn't budge.
It didn't help that he always looked so sexy in the morning, with his morning stubble and his bare chest and his...
No. She couldn't allow herself to go there. Not when it would only make her want a play-by-play repeat of last night.
She already wanted that, but it didn't matter right now. He needed to get back to his bedroom before Amelia woke up.
Molly put her hands on his shoulders and shook him, just hard enough to get his attention. "Harry, wake up!"
At last, his eyes opened. Confusion--and then unfettered joy--lit them. "Molly." He reached for her. "Come lie down with me."
She'd never wanted anything so much. Just to lay her head on his chest and listen to his heart beat while he held her. She had to force herself to say, "You need to go back to your bedroom. Now, before Amelia wakes up."
"She'll understand." He tugged her so that she was lying on top of him, skin to skin. Every inch of her heated up. Wanted. She was about to lose the battle with desire when he added, "We'll just explain that we're back together."
A splash of cold water shot through her veins, making her scramble off him and over to a corner of the bed. Th
e farthest corner, with the sheets held up to cover her nakedness.
"We're not back together." She hated seeing the hurt in his eyes--pain she'd just put there. Still, she needed to remind him of what he'd said. "No promises. One night. That's what we agreed on."
"Last night wasn't just about our bodies." Gone was the lazy pleasure, the sleepy joy. He was pure determination as he sat up in bed and faced her. "It wasn't just about pleasure. It was about us. About how we feel for each other."
"I knew it was a mistake." She hated that the beauty of the night they'd shared could be so easily lost, that every word from her mouth was eroding it further. "It shouldn't have happened."
"You know I don't agree. You know I think it's exactly what should have happened."
"Can't you see that there's too much at stake for us to blindly jump forward into a relationship? If it doesn't work out, Amelia will be crushed."
"Molly." Harry reached for her, and for all her big words, she couldn't stand the thought of pushing him away again when he threaded his fingers through hers. The sheet covering her fell away as he asked, "Why do you think it won't work out?"
All her fears, her worries, her insecurities rose up inside of her. "There's too much history between us."
Harry's eyes were so dark, so intense, that she actually shivered. "If anyone knows that even the darkest histories can have beauty in them--beauty that never goes away, but only gets richer and better--it's the two of us. We proved that last night, didn't we?"
"Last night all we proved is that we're both still attracted to each other and have no self-control." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Please, just go."
*
Harry knew better than to internalize what Molly had just said as he crept from her room to his. She couldn't have responded to him the way she had last night, couldn't have asked him to love her, then fallen asleep so trustingly in his arms, if she truly believed that all there was between them was attraction.
But after being on cloud nine the night before, he also couldn't deny that it felt like he'd just crashed and hit the pavement with a painful splat this morning.