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“Maybe I just wanted to get you alone.”
Her hand tightens on mine like a reflex. She looks at me almost angrily. “Are you purposefully trying to mess with my head? I hate it when people do that. I’m over it. I promised myself I’d never let it happen again, and then it did withyourson. I can’t have it from you, too.”
“No,” I say fiercely, leaning forward, knowing I shouldn’t, not giving a damn, at least now, at this moment. She’s right. What if I come to my senses and tell her to back off again? It’s not fair. Even so, I get closer and closer. “Tell me what happened to you, Molly.”
She purses her lips. I imagine our daughter with the same defiant expression, ready to face whatever life brings her way bravely.
“When I was talking about childhood darkness, you felt something. I heard it in your voice.”
“We’ve had like three conversations,” she snaps. “Do you think you can read methatwell?”
She tries to pull her hand away, but I hold her in place. I’m giving her an unfair number of mixed signals. It’s true. I’m an ass, but I need her badly, and that’s the truest thing of all.
“You know what I did,” I say fiercely.
“What youhadto do,” she snaps. “What was your other option? Let your dad hurt her? Let him keep hurting her? Anyway, my thing is nothing compared to that.”
“Your feelings are not nothing,” I growl. “They matter.Youmatter.”
She pulls her hand more forcefully, but I won’t let her go. She stops fighting, tears glistening in her eyes. “Please,” she says.
“Please, what?” I ask.
“Just… I never talk about this.”
I lean even closer, almost near enough to kiss now. I can feel her breath on my face as it picks up pace, her frantic lust. “But you want to. Maybe you need to.”
“Y-yeah,” she whispers. “But…”
“But what?”
Finally, she roughly pulls her hands free and leans back so violently she almost bumps her head against the window. “I can’t talk aboutanythingwith you if it’s all just going to fall apart. I know. Go on. Call me a crazy psycho for talking like this.Fall apart. We haven’t even been ononedate, but newsflash, I… I…”
“What, Molly?” I ask.
“I care about you,” she says, “which makes me the biggest idiot who’s ever lived.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Molly
It’s so difficult not to let the tears come. It’s the sheer fact that we’re together again. It’s being close to him. It’s the hints he made toward my past, my childhood, telling me I matter. I feel this connection burning deep within, screaming out for my man’s touch, the closeness, the intimacy, thelove.
“I care about you, too,” he says after a pause, looking completely serious, those intense eyes fixated on me.
He takes my hand again. I know I should fight him, but I don’t. Instead, I hold tightly, almost desperately. “We don’t even know each other,” I say, my voice weak.
“We’ve been through more in a few days than most couples have in months,” he snaps. “Anyway, I don’t give a damn about convention. If we went by that, I’m nothing but a sad old pervert praying on a young woman, and you’re nothing but a gold digger. That’s what the world would see when they look at us.”
He’s talking as if we’re a team, a couple. I want it so badly. For a moment, I let myself forget about Ryan. “Fuck the world,” I snap.
He laughs, leaning closer.No, no. This is my chance to stop it, but I don’t.
When his lips crash against mine, it feels like he’s claiming me and marking me ashis. I can’t think about anything else—just the taste of him, the texture, the hunger in his groan. I push against him passionately, grabbing onto his arm. He moans as our tongues clash together. He tastes so perfect, like we were made for each other. It’s so much better than kissing his son. Ew, no. I can’t think about stuff like that. I lean away. His eyes have an unhinged look to them.
“Did you still want to know why I got all emotional?” I ask, changing the subject because that thought has seriously grossed me out. Are thoughts like that always going to pop up in my mind?
He leans back. I see the restrained hunger in his expression, as if he’s struggling to hold himself back, but he nods. “Of course I do.”
