“And?”
Why the hell did her relentlessness turn him on so much? Along with every other goddamn thing about her?
“You think I’m hot.”
“And?”
If she pushed him, he’d gladly push right back. “My hand between your legs makes you incredibly fucking wet.”
A sly, sexy smile dawned on her gorgeous face. “It certainly does.”
Those round, strong thighs of hers rubbed together as she shifted. Her hard nipples pressed against the smooth cotton of her shirt, her bold stare tractor-beamed him closer, and he gave the hell up. Surrendered to their mutual horniness. Clambered to his knees and—
His phone dinged a third time.
He froze. Groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face, then painstakingly got his shit together again.
“Better...”Dammit, Greydon, you cockblocking pain in my ass. “Better keep doing the exercise. Getting off track here.”
“Not in my opinion,” Molly said wryly.
“Run out of daylight before too long, and I go to bed early.” Avoiding temptation, he glued his eyes to his remaining stack of index cards. “Gotta hurry with the other two activities.”
Her chest rose and fell on a silent sigh. “If you want to end before sunset, we probably have time for one more game. Not two.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right. Second game will be quicker, so...” Were those goosebumps on her forearms? “We’ll do Secret Exchange. Exactly what it sounds like. You tell me a secret, I tell you one.”
Definitely goosebumps, dammit. He shuffled off the quilt, still on his knees, then tossed his half over her legs. Would give a month’s profits to warm her himself, but no way they’d finish the game if he did that. They’d be lucky to make it to his car.
“You go first,” he told her.
Because if she shared some piddling shit, he’d follow suit. But if she confessed something meaningful... yeah. He knew what he’d finally confess in return.
“If my secret’s big enough, will that finally get you into bed with me?” Cool, composed Molly sounded impatient as hell. “Because I’ve been waiting for two decades now, Karl. I can see your erection through your jeans—again. And these past two weekends, I’ve been telling you a whole crapload of things no one else knows.Pleasetell me that’s enough for you.”
She flicked the edge of the quilt. “Also, thank you for this, but I’d rather be underneathyou.”
Jesus H. Christ. Did she want him to die from thwarted lust?
And even apart from that—what she’d just said? It implied things he didn’t like. At all. Troubled, he scratched his beard. Forced himself to think through his response.
He’d never intended to use his stupid dick asleverage. Never intended to dangle sex in front of her to force confessions she’d rather not make. He just hadn’t wanted to make it easy for her toexplain away everything between them as simple sexual chemistry, then promptly peace out for good. And he’d worried about the aftermath if she fucked him and ran.
From that day on, every time he had sex with someone else, he’d have to battle his memories. Try not to compare. The task? Already hard enough. Long before her return, before they’d even kissed, she’d haunted his most intimate moments. Sleeping with her would only make things inconceivably worse when she was gone.
Only... that explanation wasn’t the full story, was it? Wasn’t the main reason he’d shied away from sex with the woman of his literal dreams.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Blew out a hard breath.
The rock-bottom truth: Deep in his Cadbury Creme heart, he hadn’t just beenworriedabout what might happen if they tumbled into bed together. He’d beenscared. Hewasscared, and not only for his future sex life.
Sleeping with Molly would mean surrendering even more of his heart to her, along with his body. Which—if she left afterward—would mean even more of that stupidly fragile heart shattered. So he’d put her off. Denied himself what they both wanted.
He was doing the same thing he’d done twenty years ago. Hedging his bets. Protecting himself. Probably screwing up the same way he had twenty years ago too.
How much of his heart was stillhis, anyway? At this point, couldn’t be a lot. Maybe none at all. And wasn’t having Molly goddamn Dearborn—if only for a couple weeks—worth the risk, no matter what?
“Karl? Are you all right?” All the impatience had vanished fromher voice, replaced with sincere concern. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you. It’s your body. Your decision. I’m being a jerk, and I hope you can forgive me.”
