Chapter 2
Patience wasn't Fox's strong suit, and he'd almost killed himself with it tonight. Then he'd just about killed David for getting close to her while he kept his distance. Now, finally, he was alone with Molly and all he wanted to do was mess up her hair, kiss her until her lips were swollen and wet.
Then he wanted to do it again. And again.
Fighting the gut-wrenching need that threatened to turn him inside out, he forced himself to lean back lazily against the elevator wall. "You're Molly." It came out a rough purr.
Her eyes widened, fingers curling into her palm. "Yes."
He wanted those fingers on him--any part of him. "Would you mind giving me a ride?"
A large percentage of the women at the party would've taken that as the invitation it was and been all over him in one second flat. Molly, however, took a tiny step back. "Don't you have a driver?"
Abdomen tight, he continued to keep his tone playful, easy, though he was feeling close to feral. "I gave him the night off."
"A taxi?"
If she took another step back, Fox wasn't sure he'd be able to restrain his need to put his hands all over her sweetly feminine flesh, taste her with his mouth. "I don't know the address I'm going to."
The elevator dinged at that moment, and he waited as Molly stepped out into the parking garage before following. The skin at her nape looked like cream; he wanted to lick it up, close his hands over her breasts from behind as he did so, press his rigid cock up against her. Yeah, he wasn't in a patient mood.
"Oh?" It was a husky question. "If you don't know the address, how do you plan on getting there?"
Unable to resist any longer, he bent to the soft, subtle, maddening scent of her and whispered, "That's why I need a ride, Molly," his lip ring brushing the shell of her ear. "I don't know where you live."
She dropped her keys.
Fox bent and picked them up, the chocolate silk of his hair sliding over his forehead. "Here." Putting them gently into her hand, he closed her fingers over the cool metal, his touch callused from playing the guitar.
Goose bumps broke out over her skin.
Blood rushing through her ears, Molly squeezed her fingers until the edges of the keys dug into her palm. "Are you always this..." She waved her free hand, realizing for the first time that he'd come to a cocktail party wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt. Yet he'd undoubtedly been the most charismatic person in the room.
"I'm making an exception for you."
Molly knew it was a line... and she didn't care.
That terrified her. But not enough. For the first time since her world had imploded when she was fifteen, danger tempted more than it scared. Looking up into Fox's face, his beauty holding a hard edge that said he'd break all kinds of rules, push her past her comfort zone, she knew she was about to give in to the other Molly, the one who'd been in a cage her entire life. "My car's in the second row."
Opening the driver's side door for her when they reached her sporty white compact, Fox said, "I haven't driven on the left before, but I like driving."
It took her a second because that teasing grin, it had stolen her breath, the lean dimple in his left cheek devastating her senses. "You can like driving in your own car." With the rest of her night about to spin heart-thuddingly out of control, she needed to be in charge of something, even if it was only the wheel of her car.
"It was worth a try." Sliding into the passenger seat, he pushed the seat all the way back to accommodate his legs.
"Would you allow me to drive your Porsche?" Pulling out of the garage, Molly battled the need that urged her to stop the car and tell the rock star next to her that he could do anything and everything he wanted to her... just so long as he let her bite down on that pierced lower lip.
"I don't have a Porsche." He shifted in an attempt to stretch out farther before realizing it was a futile effort. "I have a Lamborghini Aventador. Hot red, and baby, she's a sweet ride."
Molly had no idea what kind of car that was, but it sounded fast and dangerous and sexy. Like Fox. "So," she said, her toes curling, "would you let me drive your Lamborghini?" Her voice came out a little breathless, her heartbeat slamming against her ribs.
"Sure, Molly. If you promised I could do hot, dirty things to you before, during, and after."
Squeezing the steering wheel, she stared out at the road, the city center vibrant with groups of young males trying to make time with club-going girls in tiny glittering dresses and strappy tops--clusters of laughing wildflowers unworried by the autumn chill. Molly had never been that young, that carefree, had never stepped foot in a club after that first time in college--when she'd come face-to-face with the girl who, as a naive and love-struck underage schoolgirl, had been photographed naked in the backseat of Molly's father's car.
She'd certainly never had a one-night stand.
Except now she had a rock star in her passenger seat, and they weren't planning on ending the night with a cup of tea and nice, polite conversation. "We need to stop at a pharmacy or a convenience store," she said, trying to act like the sophisticated woman he no doubt expected her to be, even as her hands threatened to tremble.
"Sure."
"You're going in." Molly wasn't ever going to be sophisticated enough to brazenly walk into a store at ten at night to buy protection.
"Okay."
Molly asked herself what she was doing. Really, what was she doing? The idea of Fox in her bed, his strong hands, his mouth--that delicious, delectable mouth--on her flesh, it stretched her nerves to breaking point. Fantasy was one thing, but to take the next step? To make it real? Especially when she hadn't exactly done any of this before? It made her throat dry up, her skin go alternately hot then cold.
"When did you pick me?" The words just tumbled out, her normal filters shredded by his proximity.
"Pick you?"
"For tonight."
A small, charged silence, the car turbulent with smoldering male energy. "That's an insult, any way you cut it."
Her cheeks burned. "You're right," she said, knowing she'd just blown all chances of pulling off any kind of sophistication. "I'm sorry."
That gritty purr was gone from his voice when he said, "Hey, I'm a musician. We all sleep around."
"I'm a librarian," she blurted out, unable to take the sexual tension entangled with the biting edge of male fury. "Everyone knows we're repressed old ladies with too many cats."
A chuckle. "Clever, Molly." Again, he stretched out his legs, or tried to. There was simply too much of him to fit in her little car. "You know, if I go into a store and buy condoms, it'll be all over the tabloids tomorrow that I fucked a local."
She felt her cheeks heat again. At this rate, she was going to have third-degree burns by the time they got home. "Wear a disguise." She fought to keep her breathing shallow, but it was no use--Fox's scent had bonded with every molecule of air in the car.
"Where am I supposed to get a disguise, Miss Molly?" The teasing question was abrasive silk over her skin.
Biting down on her lower lip, she told herself to focus. "There's a cap in the backseat, sunglasses in the glove compartment."
He found the items, tried them on before ripping off the sunglasses. "I wear these girly things and my cock will shrivel up." It was a growl. "Cap'll do. Long as they don't notice the ink."
"Just act shady," Molly said, her breasts straining against the lace of her bra, the fabric rasping against the taut tips. "The clerk will be so worried you're planning to shoplift or do something else nefarious"--Nefarious? Really, Molly!--"that he won't notice anything else." As long as the clerk wasn't female.
No woman would ever miss a single tiny detail about Fox.
"You think I can look shady?" A single finger traced the line of her jaw.
Her body wanted to whimper. "You have five o'clock scruff," she managed to say past the sheer want choking her, "you're dressed in black with a ball cap pulled low, and your left arm is covered in scary tattoos."
In truth, she found the ink beautiful, wanted to explore the artwork slowly and in intricate detail. "Yes, I think you can do shady."
A chuckle, deep and low. "You're mean under the blushes. I like it--I'll also like licking up that blush from every inch of your body... after I use my tongue to get you off."
Molly forgot how to breathe.
When she didn't respond, he said, "Not even a little peek? I'll start to think you don't like the look of me."
Instinctive self-defense had her saying, "You know exactly how gorgeous you are."
She caught his shrug out of the corner of her eye.
"It's a face. It's mine. I don't want to kiss my own face. I want to kiss yours--while we're skin-to-skin and I have my cock balls-deep in you."
Heart ricocheting against her ribs and fingers bone-white on the steering wheel, she pulled into the convenience-store lot. "Go."
He left without another word, jogging to the door. She wondered if he really was that hungry for her. As hungry as she was for him. Until she had to convince herself not to simply drive to the darkest part of the lot and crawl into the lap of the beautiful, dangerous man she'd never expected to touch. It would take less than a minute to undo his zipper, nudge her panties aside, and--
"Jesus, Molly." She pressed her forehead to the steering wheel and squeezed her thighs together.
It only intensified the ache between her legs.
They were taking precautions, she thought, trying to rationalize what she was about to do. She wasn't drunk. Neither was he. They weren't being stupid about it... but it was still going to be a one-night stand.
She took a deep breath to settle her frantic thoughts, but the lingering scent of Fox, hot and dark, seeped into her, derailing any attempt at coherent thinking. Undoing her seat belt, she opened the door and stepped out into the cold chill of the night, the soft breeze causing the layers of fringe on her silly, pretty dress to sway softly.
Could she do this and look at herself in the morning?
The answer was scarily easy. Every woman was allowed a Fox in her life, allowed one night of unrestrained passion... wasn't she? This would be hers. When it was over, she'd put the wild, unruly part of her away forever--the part that came from her father and would otherwise destroy her life, as Patrick Buchanan had destroyed their family.
At least she was single, wouldn't be breaking anyone's heart by sleeping with Fox.
The convenience-store door opened on the heels of her decision, to reveal a man with a sinful smile and a body made to give a woman decadent pleasure. "Ready?"
"Yes." Yes.
The rest of the drive home passed by in what felt like seconds. Parking her car in the underground garage of the low-rise building in which she had her apartment, she walked with Fox to the elevator.
He put his hand on her lower back as they entered it, sending a jolt up her spine, but his attention was on their surroundings. "You need better security." Narrowed eyes scanned the darkened parking garage. "It wouldn't be that hard to bypass the scanner to the garage."
It startled her, the edge of concern in his tone. "How do you know that?"
Hand still on her lower back, his lips curled up in a teasing half smile. "You'd be surprised what a boy can learn at boarding school."
Molly couldn't imagine him as a boy. His every action shouted strong, confident, adult male. "This is me." Stepping out on the third floor, she headed down the hallway, her heels clicking on the uncarpeted surface and her nerves doing a stuttering dance.
"You know your neighbors?" He leaned against the white-painted wall as they got to her door at last--the one right at the end.
Unlocking the door with fingers that wanted to tremble, she pushed it open and flicked on the light to reveal the spacious entryway that flowed into an open-plan living room and kitchenette. "Yes," she said, dropping her purse on the wooden bench where she usually sat to slip on her shoes. It was an effort to find words through the haze in her brain. "We keep an eye on each other."
Fox came in behind her. "Fuck, yes." The sound of the door being kicked shut on that harsh exhalation, strong male hands on her hips, hot breath against the curve of her neck.
She went motionless, her pulse in her mouth.
Tugging her hair free from its twist, then nudging the heavy wildness aside to bare her nape, Fox said, "I can't wait to taste you," in a voice that was pure whiskey and sex and hard rock.
Then those lips, that divine, delectable mouth, was on her. She shivered as he slid one arm around her waist, crushing her to him. His lips were firm and demanding on her, his stubbled jaw scraping deliciously over her skin. And that ring, it brushed against her in cool strokes that made her imagine what his kiss would feel like in other, more private places... places no other man had kissed.
Fox thrust a jean-clad thigh between her own at that second, forcing her to keep her legs spread. The denim was abrasive against her sensitive skin, the flex of his thigh threatening to send her over. "Fox."
Making a sound of pleasure deep in his throat, he sucked on the curve of her neck and tightened his grip. He was pure muscle and strength underneath skin tanned a golden brown, his erection pushing against her lower back in a blatant demand that made it clear who held the reins. There was nothing of softness about Fox. When he moved onstage, it was all coiled power and deadly grace.
And now he'd focused that aggressive intensity on Molly.
"The dress," he said, biting gently at the skin he'd sucked. "Take it off."
Her fingers shook as she lifted them to undo the hidden zip at the side. "It--" Clearing her throat, she tried to speak past the arousal and nerves strangling her vocal cords. She had no idea what she was doing, Fox utterly out of her league. "It has to come over my head," she managed to get out.
He caressed her hip before releasing her. "We'll go slower the second time around."
The second time around?
She'd barely processed the thought when his hands were gripping the bottom of her dress, gathering up the liquid-soft fabric in strong hands. He bared her so fast she had no time to worry about the fact she wasn't built anything like the tall, slinky models and actresses who usually buzzed around him.
"I can't wait to have you naked and wet beneath me." His hand rose up, closed over the heavy mound of her lace-covered breast.
A little shocked at his bluntness, she gasped and arched into him, wordlessly begging for more. But he left her. Trembling, she blinked, tried to find her senses.
"Why the hell do they wrap these boxes in indestructible plasti--"
"Here." Turning on legs that threatened to crumple, she took the small box in an effort to give herself time to think, to catch up with what was happening... and became hotly aware of Fox taking the chance to rip off his T-shirt. Breathing became impossible as he revealed a chest she'd never actually expected to see on a real man, the taut ridges of his abdomen inviting her to touch, to pet and kiss and suck.
"You're supposed to open it." He tugged the box from her grasp with a slow smile, one that said he knew exactly what he did to her--and that he planned to take brazen advantage.
As she blushed, he tore open the box and flat packets exploded around them.
She glanced down reflexively... and that was when Fox closed his hand over her nape, tilted back her head, and kissed her full on the mouth.
His lips... his lips should've been illegal.
Vaguely aware of him undoing her bra and tugging it down her arms, she moaned into the kiss as he pressed her closer with one big hand on her lower back, her bare breasts crushed against the tensile muscle of his chest. She whimpered, sensation prickling through every nerve ending in her body to pool between her legs.
"Yeah, just like that, baby," he said into the kiss, his lip ring rubbing over the wetness before he gripped her jaw to hold her in position and thrust his tongue into her mouth.
The audacious intrusion startled her, made her realize once again that she'd taken on more than she could handle. F
ar more. Then Fox licked his tongue over her own, his hands sliding down her back to squeeze her lower curves, and reason fractured under a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure that drove her to the edge of sanity.
She bit down on his lower lip.
"Fuck!"
A second after that single brutal word, she found herself lifted up as if she weighed nothing and pressed against the hallway wall, her legs around Fox's waist, her ankles crossed at his lower back, and her arms wrapped around his neck. Then he was kissing her again. And again. And again. Each kiss was as open and as sexual as the last, one of his hands fisted in her hair, the other molding and squeezing her breast.
Gasping when he released her just long enough that she could suck in a breath, she fell back into a kiss that made it obvious her paltry experience of men had in no way prepared her for being taken by Zachary Fox.
Chapter 3
A lick, a suck, and Fox lost it. Breaking the kiss, he reached down between them to undo his belt buckle. The goddamn zipper threatened to cut his cock in half, but he got it down, sheathed himself, his fingers trembling. If he wasn't careful, he'd come on the first thrust.
That was when Molly pushed at his shoulders. "Wait, wait."
Fox froze, his chest heaving. "You want to stop?" He couldn't think of a worse hell.
"No"--her throat moved as she swallowed--"but I have to tell you something."
Fingers tightening on her thigh, he bent until their foreheads touched. "What?"
"You"--a jagged breath that rubbed her nipples against his chest--"may need to go in a little slow. I'm not... hugely experienced."
He shuddered. "Are you a virgin?" Fox didn't do virgins; he didn't have the patience for it... but he'd make an exception for Molly. Fuck, he'd make every exception for Molly.
A pause before she nodded. "Sorry."
"Baby, you don't ever have to be sorry in bed with me." Kissing her hard and deep and long, he squeezed her nape. "I won't hurt you." He wanted Molly with him all the way, and he suddenly realized he goddamn liked the idea of initiating her into sex.
Addicting her to it, to him, sounded even better.
So, even though his brain was hazed by lust, he kissed her until she grew soft around him, her breathing erratic and the juncture of her thighs liquid with heat. Shoving aside the gusset of her panties as he broke the kiss with a suckling taste of her lower lip, he circled the sensitive flesh around her entrance with a callused fingertip. She shivered, muscles fluttering and pupils hugely dilated.