“Mol, I’m not some guy; I know you, I know how hard you work. Why would we only last two months?”
“Because I can’t always be around, I can’t travel with you when you’re back playing, I can’t always come to home games, and you’re used to…” She looked down.
“I’m used to what?”
“Women being there all the time. I can’t do that.”
“What?”
“Felix, let’s not pretend you’re not used to a lot of women, and that’s okay, but I’m just saying I can’t be one of those.”
“I should fucking hope not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I scratched my beard. There are some people in life you can’t bullshit, and one of them was sitting on my lap looking at me like I was the center of her universe. What’s more, I wanted to be.
“I like sex, Mol, it’s not a crime, and yes, I’ve had a lot of it. But that doesn’t mean I can’t tell the difference between a casual hook-up and something real. Those girls use me for a notch on their bed post, for bragging rights or advancing their social media. They don’t give a single shit about me; they care about my money or what I can do for them. They used me as much as I used them. But this, us, is not that. It’s not even in the same reality. And those guys you’ve dated who didn’t stick around longer than two months, that’s because they’re not good enough for you in the first fucking place. I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen you through med school, I’ve studied with you; I know how fucking hard you work. So trust me when I say I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not after two months, not ever. Your job isn’t too much for me.”
She held my gaze, studying me, carefully considering what I’d said. Her nails scratched my scalp as her fingers pushed through my hair and down to my neck, before she lowered her mouth to mine. Her tongue brushed along my lip and I openedup for her, meeting her in the middle as we stroked against each other, soft and insistent and devouring.
She sunk into me, her hips slowly rocking forward, grinding into me in a way that made my dick harder than it had ever been in my entire life, in a way that made me want to lock the door and bury myself so deep inside her that we’d both forget our own names; in a way that made me wonder if I’d been walking around with my eyes squeezed shut for the past twelve years, because how was it fucking possible I’d been so oblivious that it could be like this between us?
My hands moved of their own volition, around her sides, my thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. Her low moan reverberated around my body like a morning alarm clock, yanking me out of my perfect dream just as it was about to get good.
I pulled her head back, my fingers pushing through her curls. “Mol, we need to stop.”
Her eyes were heavy and glazed, filled with lust as she ran her thumb through the thick scruff on my cheek. She moved off my lap and I watched as her hands moved under the waistband of her scrub pants.
And she shimmied out of them.
My eyes followed as they dropped to the floor. I almost didn’t want to look up to see what was right in front of me.
Almost.
Her scrub top was just long enough that I could only see a flash of lilac lace, but if I lifted it up, I knew I’d see what was likely to be the sexiest panties known to man. I’d never taken drugs, but the hit I was getting off the smell of her arousal was stronger than anything MDMA could produce.
This was my own personal Molly. Molly made just for me.
And guaranteed to drive me to addiction.
“Touch me.”
My eyes darted up into hers, her pupils were shot, the warm amber barely visible around the pools of black. My dick was so hard I was struggling to concentrate and I think I’d forgotten how to breathe.
“Felix, I like sex too, and I need you to touch me.”
“Mol...” My voice had turned unrecognizably gravelly, like I’d spent a lifetime in Nashville drinking bourbon and smoking sixty a day.
“Touch me.”
I clenched my fist, stopping my hands from following her orders. “I need to speak to Cooper.”
“Not right now you don’t. Right now, you need to touch me.”
My fists clenched again, so tightly that my non-existent fingernails were digging into my palms.
“Please.” It came out as more of a breath, begging, pleading, and I lost all control, because who was I say no to the sexiest fucking woman on the planet?
