Wrong Man, Right Kiss (16 page)

He turned somber as he gazed down at her flushed features, then he reached out to cup her naked breast and manipulate it as though it were his property to play with. When her nipple responded eagerly, his smile turned wolfish, and a devilish glint appeared in his gaze.

“You sure you can take me?” he said, and bent his head to give her a leisurely good-morning kiss, his seductive lips stirring her senses. “I don’t want you hurting all day.”

She was still breathless from his torture. “Well, I do.”

He laughed. “What an insatiable little devil my little Molls is turning out to be.” He smiled that wolf’s smile again, his eyes spelling mischief, then he ducked his blond head and playfully nipped the beaded points of her nipples, and the stimulus was almost too much to bear.

“Thank you for the gift you’ve given me,” he whispered against her flesh, switching from one nipple to the other. “My entire life I worried someone else would take what I wanted.”

That husky, unexpected confession turned her on like flicking on a light switch, and together with the nibbles he was giving her? It was a winning combo. Her muscles stiffened as the blissful sensations rippled through her. She clung to his shoulders, squirming as red-hot desire took her over and his warm, wet tongue tortured her beyond measure.

“Oh, Jules,” she sighed. “Don’t do that unless you…you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, coming up to her ear, murmuring, “I got you, baby, you know I do.”

Molly turned her head, opened her mouth and kissed him, lazily at first, then vigorously. “No. Now it’s my turn to torture you,” she said sheepishly.

She pushed him under her and he obediently lay on his back as she greedily took in his magnificent body with her eyes. From head to toe, Julian was a masterpiece she wanted to memorize.

Eyes narrowed, he crossed his hands behind his head and let her touch him, like a pasha being pampered and tended to. She bit her bottom lip while her breasts throbbed for his touch and the place between her legs pricked with wanting. Her hands stroked his abs and pectorals and round, hard biceps, and then trailed downward to cup his mesmerizing hardness….

He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth. Molly’s eyes blurred as she seized his hard length—so big she could not grip him with only one hand. He was so aroused and powerful that she could feel him pulsing underneath her palms and fingers. She wanted to lick him there, lick him everywhere, like a lollipop. “I want to kiss you here, Jules.” She patted him gently, her insides clenching with pure, unadulterated lust.

His nostrils flared, his eyes almost black. “Then stop teasing and kiss me.”

Molly watched his face as she bent her head, and she would never forget the flaming, pulse-pounding lust in his eyes, as if he could eat her up and not want anything else for the rest of his life. “Like this?” she asked tentatively as she dipped her puckered lips and placed a kiss right on the tip.

His hips bucked wildly, his biceps bulging as he fought to keep his arms back.

“Do you like it, Jules, or—?”

“Baby, I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmured in a coarse, thick voice, his torso rising and falling with each soughing breath. “Morning, noon and night, I’ve dreamed of this….”

Molly bent her head and watched him, melting in heat at the harsh look of ecstasy on his face. His eyes burned into the top of her head as she snaked out her tongue to lick him in a slow circle around the tip, savoring his taste and the incredible feel of his hardness sliding into her mouth. She opened wider and took the first couple of inches inside of her. His hands rounded over the back of her head and his fingertips delved gently into her hair as he eased her head back so their gazes locked. Her eyes felt heavy with arousal, and his gaze was thick-lashed and stormy.

“Did you think of me, too, baby?” he said in a guttural whisper, and Molly released him, then climbed on top of him and straddled his hips, bending to press her lips hungrily to his.

“So much I’ve never even looked at another man, Jules,” she whispered into his mouth.

She felt the powerful tremor that rushed through his body at her words. Then he took charge and twirled his tongue around hers while his hands slid down her back to grip her buttocks. He squeezed the plump flesh, moving her so their hips aligned and his rigid erection pressed right into the part where she was soaked.

“I’ve thought of this every day for so damned long. I won’t even begin to tell you how many times during the night.”

“I want you in me, Jules.” She rocked her hips enticingly against his length. She was wonderfully sore and yet needed to feel him again, only to be sure this was real. This was happening. She was his, and he was hers.

Hard and strong, he easily rolled her over and loomed above her now, and the sight of him poised at her entry drove her to the edge. His golden skin glowed with a thin sheen of perspiration, and his shoulders and arms bulged with straining muscles, corded with pumping veins. She couldn’t believe that this wonderful creature would want her like he did. Would look at her in the way he was looking down at her now. That her hero and friend and favorite person in the world could also be her lover.

Clutching him closer, she whispered, “I want you, but slowly so it won’t hurt.”

“I’ll be careful with you. Come here, Moo.” He gathered her closer, holding her firmly against him as he slowly eased inside her.

“Yes!” she cried out, squeezing her eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation—a deluge of love and passion and everything she’d always wanted. Right here in her arms, after years of being so close to it.

A sound tore from his straining body as he began a hard, thorough pace, his lips dragging wildly over her face, her lips, her cheeks, her temple as his hips rammed against hers and she held on to him for dear life. He drove her to the precipice and made her gasp out his name, and then he followed her with one last thrust, her body clutching his in a long, tight orgasm.

For an hour afterward they lay entangled in bed and remembered their little adventures as teenagers. As Molly drifted off to sleep, she felt so content, so genuinely happy, she thought at last her life was as it should be.

Nothing would come between her and her soul mate any longer.

Eight

Full sunlight streamed through the windows of Julian’s bedroom as Molly cracked open one eye, and then the other. Noticing it was past 10:00 a.m., she moaned languorously and rolled and stretched on the bed, anxious to feel the warm contours of the body she’d snuggled against all night long. But Julian wasn’t in bed with her.

Disappointment swept through her as she sat up. Then she spotted the note over his pillow, and she instantly relaxed.

Good morning, Picasso. Meet me upstairs? Business is ready to open Monday and I’m giving it a thorough check. Hope you don’t mind I left another message for you somewhere.Yours,Julian
The other message, it turned out, was right on her left buttock. Molly gasped when she caught sight of it as she passed by the mirror. It consisted of three red letters, perfectly curved, perfectly marking her fanny like a cattle brand, except he’d used her paint:
JJG
.

She laughed so hard that tears popped into her eyes. She’d never imagined she could wake up feeling so content, so full, so complete, so happy. How could she have spent all these years next to this man she would give her life for, and miss out on all of
this?

It was as though last night Jules had opened the little box where she’d hidden away entire decades of special, secret feelings for him, and now that those feelings were out, Molly feared she’d burst from the love in her chest.

Scrambling to catch up with him, she showered and found herself drifting off to last night as she shampooed. They’d lain awake remembering stuff about their childhood, then they’d laughed, then their laughter had faded into heat once more, and they’d kissed and made out and made love until they’d exploded.

Hot and bothered by the memory alone, she jumped out of the shower, wrapped herself in a towel and rushed to the walk-in closet to survey her clothes. She settled on a short white jean skirt and a lacy white blouse. Then she fixed coffee and folded two warm croissants she’d heated in the oven into a pair of napkins. She carried the croissants and the two coffee mugs up in the elevator, watching them steam with a smile.

She could too easily picture doing this every day, too easily imagine having her husband’s offices in the same building as her apartment. He could come and go as he pleased—take a few moments in his busy day to steal away between meetings and come home and kiss her. Kiss her heart out like at that masquerade, like last night, like, hopefully, later this morning. Her cheeks flamed at the prospect.

The elevator chimed and she stepped out, impressed by the sight that greeted her.

Wow.

The place had undergone a huge transformation. She hadn’t noticed all this last night when she’d been painting like a fiend. But now full sunlight streamed through the windows, and every inch of the marble floor sparkled clean. Chrome chandeliers hung from the rafters, brand-new computers sat proudly atop their shiny new desks. A main reception desk stood before her, and behind it, the wall of her partly finished mural said a cheery good morning.

Just looking at that explosion of colors made her anxious to work on it some more. But the truth was, she was feverish to see Julian. Her breasts pricked at the thought of kissing his silken lips and wrapping herself around his big, hard body again….

She heard voices then. Angry voices.

Frowning, she went around the wall through a set of glass doors. And that was when she spotted Julian. Beautiful in khaki slacks and a white polo short, his casual weekend clothes. But there was nothing casual in his wide stance, in his massively tense shoulders, the arms that strained at his sides.

And then she saw the second man, his stance as menacing as Julian’s.

Garrett.

Molly’s heart stopped.

Her eyes wildly searched Julian’s profile for clues. He looked more than furious. His nostrils were flaring, and though the movements were almost imperceptible, he kept flexing his fingers as though they were cramping. Or as though he was just aching to throttle someone.

O-oookay. This might just not be the morning she had envisioned while she was taking a shower. What were they arguing about anyway? And why was Garrett here if he didn’t know about Julian’s new—

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

All of a sudden it hit her. And she feared that she knew exactly what the two men were arguing about.

Her own words came back to haunt her like a curse.

“Who the hell can even work in peace with this sort of constant criticism? I’m glad he’s ready to move on!”

Oh, no, please no.

Garrett had sounded less than thrilled when he’d demanded to know if Julian was leaving. She swayed nervously on her feet and a wash of hot coffee spilled across her left wrist. Pain shot up her arm, and when she gasped, both men turned.

She locked gazes with Garrett first, somehow avoiding Julian’s gaze out of dread. She didn’t want to know if he was angry. Not after the incredible, mesmerizing night they had spent together. But really, how angry could he be? He was naturally an easygoing man and would probably take it well and laugh about it later. It wasn’t as if she had revealed super top secret information, had she?
Had she?

She breathed out slowly and smiled at the window behind their shoulders. “I didn’t know we had company, Jules.”

“I find that hard to believe, somehow, since you issued the invitation.”

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard his voice; it was low and silky as a ribbon, but it was the winter coolness of the tone that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in alarm. Her eyes jerked to lock with his, and for a moment she needed to recover from the utter slamming force of his accusing gaze.

“Jules,” she said, slowly tossing her hair from side to side. “I didn’t invite him here. I did not mean for him to… Uh, here, you can take my coffee, Garrett, if you’d like.”

She extended a mug, trying once again to turn this crazy morning around to the morning she wanted. The one she’d dreamed of. If Garrett took the hospitable offering, Julian would have to take the second one and maybe after the croissants they’d all—

“Already bringing coffee to the love of your life, Molly? Too bad he was just leaving. Aren’t you, brother?”

Once again, Molly’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion over Julian’s frigid tone. For a dazed moment, she almost expected Julian to chuckle and admit he was teasing her. Like he did when he dared her to wear that wench costume or asked her to kiss his six-pack and go as low as she would go in the darkened office at Landon’s house.

But no laughter followed his words.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Garrett burst out.

Molly realized in dawning horror that Julian had referred to Garrett as the love of her life. She glanced down at the mugs both men had refused and the sticky residue of coffee on her wrist, growing numb in disbelief. Had he been making fun of her having stupidly thought she loved Garrett once upon a time, or did he actually believe it to be
true?

Drawing in a steadying breath, she walked around and shakily set the mugs and croissants on a nearby desk. A little part of her already wanted to get hysterical, but she tried reminding herself that, although she’d spoken out impulsively, the last thing she’d intended was to harm Julian.