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Molly knew that at some point in the future she’d need to talk to Jordan; she just hadn’t suspected it would behere, surrounded by rebel troops.
“I’m sorry you’re involved in this,” she said, and despite her best efforts her voice was hoarse with emotion.
“It isn’t your fault I’m here. I agreed to come.” The anger had disappeared from his voice, as well, and she sensed regret at his earlier outburst.
“H-how have you been?” she asked. Sitting on the hard dirt floor of a run-down shack, exchanging pleasantries, seemed…odd. Especially when they were in danger of being attacked by rebel soldiers any minute. But Molly sincerely wanted to know how his life had been these past few years.
“Busy.”
“Are you still working twelve-hour days?”
“Yeah.”
Molly figured as much. Jordan had never allowed himself to grieve openly for Jeffrey. He’d thrown himself into his work, effectively closing himself off from her and from life. Not that she’d handled things any better. After Jeffrey’s death, she’d been consumed withguilt and was so emotionally needy a thousand Jordans couldn’t have filled the void her son’s death had left.
As the weeks and months after the funeral wore on, Molly had become more lethargic, while Jordan took the business world by storm. Within eight months he was Chicago’s golden boy, involved in three major construction projects. Meanwhile, Molly had trouble finding the energy to get out of bed in the morning.
A gunshot echoed like cannon fire and Molly jerked instinctively.
“Relax,” Jordan said. “Everything’s under control.”
He couldn’t know that, but she appreciated the reassurance. “I feel like such an idiot,” she admitted, pressing her forehead to her knee.
Jordan placed his arm around her shoulders and brought her closer to his side. She let herself experience the comfort, wondering how two people who had desperately loved each other had grown so far apart. Molly didn’t ever expect to love anyone as much as she’d loved her husband and her son. It seemed vitally important that Jordan know this. She couldn’t leave the situation as it was, not when she’d been given the opportunity to make things right. The words felt like a huge lump in her throat. “If…if the worst does happen, I want you to know I’ll always love you, Jordan.”
He went very still, as if he wasn’t sure how to deal with her confession. “I’ve tried not to love you,” he said grudgingly. “Somehow I never quite succeeded.”
They heard another gunshot, and she burrowed deeper into the shelter of his arms. As she trembled, Jordan held her tightly against him.
Burying her face in the hollow of his neck, shebreathed in his warm, familiar scent. Jordan said nothing, but continued to hold her as he gently caressed her back.
It had been so long since she’d been in her husband’s arms, so long since she’d felt loved and protected. She might never have the chance again. This time together was like a gift. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
“Molly, don’t cry. It’ll be okay, I promise you.”
“You’ve always loved playing the role of hero,” she murmured.
That comment was unintentionally sardonic, and she regretted it. She wanted to thank him for being here with her, but couldn’t find the words to adequately express her gratitude.
Kissing his neck seemed the natural thing to do. She slid the tip of her tongue over his skin, reveling in his salty taste. She felt him tense, but he didn’t stop her, nor did he encourage her.
Her palm was pressed against his heart. His pulse beat strongly and evenly, the tempo increasing when she kissed the hollow of his throat.
“Molly,” he warned, his hands gripping her upper arms as if to push her away. He’d done that often enough after Jeffrey’s death, as if his desire for her had died with his son. Perhaps not physically, but emotionally.
“I’m sorry…” she whispered, but before she could say any more, his mouth was on hers, hot and compelling. His kiss was so fierce that her breath jammed in her throat and her nails dug into his shoulders.
Molly knew it was risky to get involved in this now,but that didn’t keep her from responding, didn’t keep her from moaning in abject surrender. She returned his kisses with a wildness that had been carefully hidden and denied for three long years.
“Molly…”
“Love me,” she pleaded softly. “One last time… I need you so much.”
“This is crazy.” Jordan sighed, but he didn’t reveal any signs of putting an end to it.
“The world is crazy,” she reminded him and began to undress.
He did the same, his movements hurried. She was well acquainted with his body, and he with hers, and they used that knowledge to drive each other to a fever pitch of need and desire.
