Could she do this and look at herself in the morning?
The answer was scarily easy. Every woman was allowed a Fox in her life, allowed one night of unrestrained passion… wasn’t she? This would be hers. When it was over, she’d put the wild, unruly part of her away forever—the part that came from her father and would otherwise destroy her life, as Patrick Buchanan had destroyed their family.
At least she was single, wouldn’t be breaking anyone’s heart by sleeping with Fox.
The convenience-store door opened on the heels of her decision, to reveal a man with a sinful smile and a body made to give a woman decadent pleasure. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Yes.
The rest of the drive home passed by in what felt like seconds. Parking her car in the underground garage of the low-rise building in which she had her apartment, she walked with Fox to the elevator.
He put his hand on her lower back as they entered it, sending a jolt up her spine, but his attention was on their surroundings. “You need better security.” Narrowed eyes scanned the darkened parking garage. “It wouldn’t be that hard to bypass the scanner to the garage.”
It startled her, the edge of concern in his tone. “How do you know that?”
Hand still on her lower back, his lips curled up in a teasing half smile. “You’d be surprised what a boy can learn at boarding school.”
Molly couldn’t imagine him as a boy. His every action shouted strong, confident, adult male. “This is me.” Stepping out on the third floor, she headed down the hallway, her heels clicking on the uncarpeted surface and her nerves doing a stuttering dance.
“You know your neighbors?” He leaned against the white-painted wall as they got to her door at last—the one right at the end.
Unlocking the door with fingers that wanted to tremble, she pushed it open and flicked on the light to reveal the spacious entryway that flowed into an open-plan living room and kitchenette. “Yes,” she said, dropping her purse on the wooden bench where she usually sat to slip on her shoes. It was an effort to find words through the haze in her brain. “We keep an eye on each other.”
Fox came in behind her. “Fuck, yes.” The sound of the door being kicked shut on that harsh exhalation, strong male hands on her hips, hot breath against the curve of her neck.
She went motionless, her pulse in her mouth.
Tugging her hair free from its twist, then nudging the heavy wildness aside to bare her nape, Fox said, “I can’t wait to taste you,” in a voice that was pure whiskey and sex and hard rock.
Then those lips, that divine, delectable mouth, was on her. She shivered as he slid one arm around her waist, crushing her to him. His lips were firm and demanding on her, his stubbled jaw scraping deliciously over her skin. And that ring, it brushed against her in cool strokes that made her imagine what his kiss would feel like in other, more private places… places no other man had kissed.
Fox thrust a jean-clad thigh between her own at that second, forcing her to keep her legs spread. The denim was abrasive against her sensitive skin, the flex of his thigh threatening to send her over. “Fox.”
Making a sound of pleasure deep in his throat, he sucked on the curve of her neck and tightened his grip. He was pure muscle and strength underneath skin tanned a golden brown, his erection pushing against her lower back in a blatant demand that made it clear who held the reins. There was nothing of softness about Fox. When he moved onstage, it was all coiled power and deadly grace.
And now he’d focused that aggressive intensity on Molly.
“The dress,” he said, biting gently at the skin he’d sucked. “Take it off.”
Her fingers shook as she lifted them to undo the hidden zip at the side. “It—” Clearing her throat, she tried to speak past the arousal and nerves strangling her vocal cords. She had no idea what she was doing, Fox utterly out of her league. “It has to come over my head,” she managed to get out.
He caressed her hip before releasing her. “We’ll go slower the second time around.”
The second time around?
She’d barely processed the thought when his hands were gripping the bottom of her dress, gathering up the liquid-soft fabric in strong hands. He bared her so fast she had no time to worry about the fact she wasn’t built anything like the tall, slinky models and actresses who usually buzzed around him.
“I can’t wait to have you na**d and wet beneath me.” His hand rose up, closed over the heavy mound of her lace-covered breast.
A little shocked at his bluntness, she gasped and arched into him, wordlessly begging for more. But he left her. Trembling, she blinked, tried to find her senses.
“Why the hell do they wrap these boxes in indestructible plasti—”
“Here.” Turning on legs that threatened to crumple, she took the small box in an effort to give herself time to think, to catch up with what was happening… and became hotly aware of Fox taking the chance to rip off his T-shirt. Breathing became impossible as he revealed a chest she’d never actually expected to see on a real man, the taut ridges of his abdomen inviting her to touch, to pet and kiss and suck.
“You’re supposed to open it.” He tugged the box from her grasp with a slow smile, one that said he knew exactly what he did to her—and that he planned to take brazen advantage.
As she blushed, he tore open the box and flat packets exploded around them.
She glanced down reflexively… and that was when Fox closed his hand over her nape, tilted back her head, and kissed her full on the mouth.