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Joy lights up her captivating features. “Oh, Murphy. You’ll really protect me, no matter what?”
I wrap my arms around her shoulders, careful not to let them stray lower unless my resolve snaps, and I take her right here.
I’d tease her hole again, taking my cock out this time and rubbing the engorged helm against her clit, pushing firmly so that she can feel how badly I want to slip just an inch higher and slide into her begging slit.
Maybe she’d moan in surprise at first, but it would quickly melt into lust as she sits back against me, her round bouncy ass cheeks flattening against my hard abs.
I kiss the top of her head instead, inhaling the sweet smell of my future.
“Of course,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. “I’ll protect you for the rest of your lives. It’s Molly and Murphy now. Forever.”
She tenses against me for a moment and then collapses as though grateful into the hug. It takes me a moment to work out why she tensed like that, and then it hits me.
She’s thinking about Henry… Henry who I have selfishly not thought of once since I returned home.
Even though I’m with his daughter.
Even though he still doesn’t know.
“Have you eaten yet?” I ask.
“No. Have you?”
I chuckle. “Well… yeah.”
“Ew.” She giggles, looking up at me, her ew noise betrayed by the glittering desire in her wide eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“No. Would you care to share a meal with me, Molly? We can’t leave the apartment, but I can order whatever you like, and we can dine on the balcony.”
“Dine?” she says, a thrill of delight in her voice. “That sounds really nice. But first, can you help me get these darn boxing gloves off? I feel so awkward.”
I grin, amazed at the way she can pull me away from my mob concerns and keep me firmly planted in the present.
But maybe I shouldn’t be.
We’re made for each other.
“Of course,” I tell her. “I want you to be able to use your hands.”
Soon they’ll be wrapped around my hungry dick.
Chapter Seventeen
Molly
The sun kisses the sky rose-red as we sit on the balcony, around the glass table, polished to such a gleam I catch sight of my reflection in it. The heaters are hidden within the stonework flooring, heating our bodies, making me flush as I burn up opposite my man.
I look down at the menus and laugh. “When you said order, I thought you meant takeout.”
“I own the restaurant across the street. Why not treat it like a date? You deserve it.”
“So do you,” I rush to say, letting my eyes move over his muscular body, his forearms bulging with his shirt sleeves rolled up.
His muscles make the fabric crease and his silver hair is messy from his long day, or maybe from where I ran my hands through it after he took the boxing gloves off and we kissed.
“I never would’ve believed that before we met,” he says passionately.
“Um, we met a long time ago.”
He shakes his head, staring hard at me, making me want to whimper from his gaze alone. How the heck is that possible?
Oh wait, this is Murphy freaking Moran we’re talking about.
“I don’t mean then,” he says. “No offense, but I didn’t notice you. You were a shy little kid, that’s all. When you went to England, you were in braces. And then you came back… and fuck, look at you. Everything about your young body is perfect for making a family.”
“Isn’t that a bad thing?” I murmur. “Who wants to look like they’re ready to get pregnant?”
“I want you to look like that,” he snarls. “And so that’s how you’ll look. Don’t forget, Molly, you belong to me now. I’ve claimed you, so you might as well get used to hearing how gorgeous your body is, how perfect because I’ll never stop saying it.”
His praise moves through me like a warm glow, making my insides shiver and dance with the force of his words.
“Thank you,” I murmur, and then turn back to the menu as his eyes become too intense for me to handle.
My mind flits back to the gym, to when he had his trapped manhood grinding against my sex, the throbbing outline of it so difficult to ignore in his pants. I wanted to turn around and pull him out, stroke him, lick him, suck him if I could work out how to do it properly.
But nerves flapped sharply through me, stopping any notions I had of acting on those insane desires.
“The steak looks good,” I comment.
“As long as it’s bloody.” He smirks. “Don’t you agree?”
“No.” I giggle. “But why aren’t I surprised?”
“What do you mean?”
I tilt my head at him, feeling one of those rare bursts of confidence I sometimes feel surge up, and more and more often with Murphy now, as though he’s teasing those parts out of me, making me want to let my full self flourish.
