She eyed him with caution if not suspicion, then started upstairs. Richard followed close behind. What he’d have really liked was if she were naked. He stroked her ass, eased his hand up to her waist and finally stopped her halfway up so he could press against her body. He nuzzled her neck.
“I don’t know if I’m going to make it.”
She shot him a flirtatious, laughing glance, wriggled her hips. “What a shame that would be.”
He’d have loved to sweep her up in his arms, but Molly wasn’t a small woman and they could end up hurt. While he weighed risk and benefit, she bolted, and he went after her. By the time he made it into the bedroom behind her, she’d freed her hair from the ponytail, letting it fall down around her shoulders. Something about the movement, almost innocent, no more than a woman letting her hair down, turned him on more than an impromptu striptease would have.
“I love your hair,” he told her, and plunged his fingers into it. He already knew how it felt, silky but not soft, thick and strong. He stroked, letting it run through his fingers. He didn’t kiss her, because he might not have been able to stop, and he wanted to look at her.
“Lift your arms,” he said roughly, and when she did he peeled her sweater over her head. The sight of her in a peach-colored, lace-edged satin bra that barely confined gorgeous breasts was enough to make him feel as if he’d taken a blow to the belly. A sound escaped him. Something raw, ragged. As if in a dream, he lifted his hands and cupped her, ran the pads of his thumbs over her nipples.
Molly moaned and arched her back, thrusting her breasts more fully into his hands. He lifted them, squeezed, bent his head and nuzzled the bared curves. And then he reached behind her and unfastened the clasp. With slow, deliberate movements, he caressed her shoulders—she had beautiful shoulders—easing the narrow straps off, until the bra slid down and dropped to their feet. He didn’t watch it go. He was enthralled with her breasts. The skin was as creamy as he’d imagined, her nipples a beautiful, dusky color, the areola as generous in size as her breasts were.
Her head was bent as she watched him look at her and then touch her. Richard knew he was groaning. His big hands couldn’t completely enclose her. He’d never seen anything sexier than her firm nipples peeking from between his fingers.
Suddenly he’d had enough. He did pick her up only to lay her on the bed, where her hair spread across a dark red, textured cover. It was a perfect backdrop for all that skin. A redhead’s skin. He unsnapped her jeans and peeled them and peach-colored panties over her amazing hips and mile-long legs. He hung up at the shoes, and she laughed at him as he fumbled at the laces and finally yanked one shoe off after getting frustrated at a knot he’d created. Then socks, and he tossed the jeans over his shoulder.
“You have the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen,” he said, with utter sincerity.
As he stared, she blushed, which delighted him. Even her breasts turned pink.
Richard shed his own shirt, kicked off his shoes and went on one knee above her on the bed. Now he kissed her, first her parted lips, deep and drugging, before stringing more kisses down her long, white throat and then to his target. He licked, nibbled and suckled. He damn well wallowed in those breasts, and in the small sounds she made and the way her hips rose from the bed.
Somehow she’d come to be kneading his shoulders, testing the contours of his chest and the muscles in his back, and finally she rubbed her palm up and down over the long bulge beneath his zipper. That was the breaking point for him. He’d never taken his pants off so fast in his life. Then they were kissing, arms around each other, moving against each other, tangling their legs, rolling so first he was on top, then her. And, oh, man, the sight of her above him almost blew his fuse.
He swore and said, “Condom,” in a voice that wasn’t his.
Molly went still. “Well, you don’t really have to…”
“Live what you teach.” He rolled her over and reached a long arm to his jeans on the floor. He’d stuffed several condoms in his back pocket, hoping for the best.
Praying.
He dropped the extras on the bedside table, tore open one—and surrendered it when Molly grabbed it from him.
“I’ve always wanted to do this.”
“What? You’ve never?”
“I was too shy the few chances I would have had. And on the pill after Cait was born. Until…”
He didn’t want her thinking about her son of a bitch of an ex, who’d pushed her despite her pain and her career ambitions to provide his Colton the Fourth. Richard reared up and drew her nipple into his mouth, suckling hard.