Rock Addiction (Rock Kiss 1)

“I believe you.” Her long, dark lashes lowered, rose again, her pupils deep ebony. “If I didn’t, I would’ve said no. I was just…” Right when he thought she’d finally admit that there was no way in hell this had ever been, or could ever be, a temporary affair, she said, “I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“Don’t be sorry you let me see you.” Fighting with Molly wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, but he’d damn well take her anger over icy distance. “Don’t you ever apologize for that.”

Molly broke the eye contact once more, her throat moving as she swallowed. “We should shower. We’re both sweaty from today. You need to…” Cheeks flushing, she shifted her h*ps in a silent reminder that he remained buried in her.

He could sense her pulling away emotionally in spite of their sexual entanglement, shaken by the visceral power of the minutes past. “I’m not done with you yet.” Possessive fury continuing to thunder through him, Fox opened his mouth over hers, slid his tongue between her lips, and began to use his intimate knowledge of her body to seduce her.

If sex was all she’d give him, then he’d damn well use it to tie her to him until she could never again think of walking away. Fingers clenching on the rucked-up sheets, Molly moaned in the back of her throat as he flexed his h*ps in a lazy movement. “Not nearly done.”

Wrapping herself tightly in the robe again after they finally had that shower, Molly ordered room service for them both from the twenty-four-hour hotel kitchen. She was still wrecked from the smoldering heat of their second time together that night. Fox had wanted to make a point, and he’d made it with a relentless concentration that had left her shuddering in ecstasy, his body her only anchor.

He hadn’t liked being locked out, being distrusted. But even in his anger, he hadn’t hurt her. What he’d done was worse—he’d taken her, branded her, driven himself into every cell of her body. She couldn’t survive a month of this, of becoming further and further intertwined with a man who could never be hers. The thought of ending up an empty, broken shell like her mother was a nightmare… but even worse was the thought of losing Fox, of never again inhaling his scent, hearing his voice, feeling his touch.

“Room service.”

Jumping at the knock on the door, she glanced at Fox where he lay on her bed.

Jaw clenched, he went into his room and closed the door while the waiter dropped off the food. His dark expression had grown heavier by the time he walked back in, his jeans low on his h*ps and his upper half bare. She didn’t have to be a mind reader to know he was angry about the continued secrecy of their relationship, but he kept his silence as the two of them ate the food while sprawled in bed.

Molly picked at a plate of fruit, then set it aside on the bedside table, not really in the mood to eat. “How did that woman get past security?” she asked, knowing she was revealing too much of what she felt for him but unable to stop herself.

“How groupies always get past security.” Fox shrugged and continued to eat his burger, but his voice held an edge that said his temper was still simmering. “Don’t waste any more time on her. She’s nothing.”

Molly winced, wondering if that was how he’d think of her once their month was past. Then she wanted to slap herself. “I’m really not cut out to be a rock star’s g—” She caught herself before she said “girlfriend,” the word a knot of painful emotion in her throat. “Lover.”

“Since I can still feel you hot and wet around my cock, I disagree.” With that forthright statement, Fox finished off his burger, then picked up the beer he’d had her order and half-emptied the bottle before suddenly frowning. “You mind if I drink?” he asked, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I never asked.”

The tenderness shattered her. He remained angry, that much was clear, but still he thought about her. Cuddling close, she laid her head against his shoulder and felt the tension in her spine ease when he wrapped his arm around her without hesitation, his fingers closing over her nape.

“No,” she said in response to his question. “It’s my choice, doesn’t have anything to do with anyone else.” The golden silk of his skin an invitation to her senses, she stroked his side, petted his chest. It felt so right to just be with him. “Each time I turn down a drink, I remember why I made this choice and who I am. Does that make sense?”

Fox brushed his lips over the top of her hair. “Perfect sense. Was your mom a drinker or was she just drunk the day she got behind the wheel?” he asked, and she knew then that he’d read through articles not only about her father’s fall from grace but also about what followed.

Molly could remember every detail of that fateful hour when she’d lost what little remained of her world: the fine yellow paper of the note calling her to the school counselor’s office, the echoes created by the soles of her school shoes in the otherwise empty corridors, the Wet Floor sign where the custodian had wiped it clean of a spill, the kind face and sad eyes of the veteran cop who’d told her both her parents were dead. It was as defining a moment in her life as the day she’d watched televised images of her father being arrested.

“My mom was a high-functioning alcoholic for most of the last eight years of her life… then she was just an alcoholic,” she said through the agony of memory. “But,” she added, eyes gritty and throat dry, “from the things I picked up over the years, I know she began drinking years before, when she learned of my father’s first affair.”