Almost a Family

She turned, tears glimmering on her lashes. “But being right cost me. I didn’t realize until lately how very much I’d given up by leaving.”

“What did you give up, Molly?” His voice came across the room huskily.

Her gaze delved deeply into his.

“Everything,” she admitted.

The room fell quiet as the music stopped, then with a whirring sound switched to the next CD. When the piano notes started, Molly’s heart leapt, constricted and cracked, and the tears on her lashes spilled on to her cheeks.

Jason stood, took agonizingly slow steps to her as the introduction ended and the vocals began to their song. He reached out and took her hand, saying softly, “Dance with me.”

Helpless to refuse, she curled her fingers in his and let him draw her close as their feet made tiny circles to the music. The words, which years ago had seemed so different, now seemed crafted to their own unique, twisted situation, each syllable branding a bit more pain on Molly’s already hurting heart. His body fit against hers perfectly, even after all these years. He pulled her closer, closer, so close she could feel his heart beating against her.

“Are you listening,

Molly?”

She swallowed. She had no idea how many times they’d danced to this song in years past, but never had it had such a poignant meaning as now. Now it was about finding love again after years apart, of how empty life had been until they’d found each other again, the singer was begging her to stay. Did Jason want her still? Did he want her to stay with him, to give their love another chance?

“I’m listening,” she whispered as his hand trailed intimately down her back, sliding over her hip and making every nerve ending in her body stand to order.

“Then tell me,” he murmured, his voice soft but tight with emotion.

“I can’t,” she whispered painfully.

His lips nuzzled at her ear and she forgot the plane ticket in her purse, forgot she was supposed to be saying goodbye, and simply leaned her head back and met his lips with hers. Of all the kisses they’d shared since she’d returned, this one undid her. This one, a kiss that was a hello, a reunion, an acknowledgement. Somehow, in some way they’d both admitted that their love had never died, and this was the ultimate manifestation of those feelings. Molly couldn’t say the words; she was too afraid. But she poured all her emotions into that kiss—her regret, her sadness, her love.

The song ended but the kiss lingered, turning into a series of nips and brief contacts that trailed down her neck. “Stay,” he whispered against the column of her throat. “Stay with me tonight.”

Could she? Could she stay, knowing she would be leaving tomorrow?

It was impossible to be rational when his fingers were caressing the small of her back. “That probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Probably not.” He whispered the words next to her ear. “But life is full of bad ideas.”

One last chance. This would be the one and only time she’d have to touch him, love him the way she’d missed loving him. This could be the sweet goodbye they’d missed.

Or it could break her heart.

He straightened, put a finger under her chin and lifted it until she looked him in the eyes. “I’ve asked you to stay. I want to make love to you. But the decision is yours, Molly.”

She lifted a shaky hand to his cheek, smiled a wobbly smile.

“Love me one last time, Jason.”

Chapter Nine

His eyes blazed at her words. Saying nothing, he reached out and began unfastening her blouse button by torturous button. Once he was done, he pushed it from her shoulders, his gaze lighting on her pale skin. It was as tangible as a caress. Molly’s breath shook as she exhaled, reached for his sweater and tugged at the hem.

He helped her pull it over his head, dropping it on the floor beside her blouse. Hesitantly she reached out and touched his chest—like this?—her fingertips asked. His palm covered her breast possessively. Like this.

Molly moved closer, running both hands over his skin now, the warm, smooth expanse of his chest, the strong curves of his arms. She worried the waistband of his jeans with her fingernails, pulling him close. Their torsos touched, warm, magnetic, and she knew nothing in the world had ever felt as right as his skin pressed against hers.

The CD changed again, to something soft and bluesy while the firelight flickered around them, creating light and shadow. Molly touched her lips to the hollow between his shoulder and collarbone, tasting the saltiness there with the tip of her tongue, hearing the sharp intake of breath in his lungs. Her tongue slid from that hollow down to flick over his nipple, and he groaned.

Drawing her back up for a hot, open-mouthed kiss, he trailed his right hand down her back to release the clasp of her bra and blindly slid it off her arms.

It was like before but better, familiar yet new as he took her hand and led her to the fireplace. He grabbed a green throw from the sofa and laid it over the braided rug, tossing a few cushions after it. Seeing it—a nest, the place where she’d be one with him again—almost made her change her mind. But then he smiled, soft, knowing, and she knew there was nothing she wanted more than to be with him. She unfastened her jeans, slid them down over her legs and left them laying on the floor beside the rug.