Except, the thing was… she was tired.
Tired of being always responsible, of never permitting herself to let go in case she went too far and ended up right back in the hell that had killed her parents and splintered her life. Being with Fox couldn’t fix her past, couldn’t eradicate the fear and need inside her… but maybe she could surrender the reins for a fragment of time and not feel guilty about it. After all, this gift-wrapped box would vanish in a month.
Perhaps that was why she said it, why she confessed one of her deepest fears. Because he was safe, would forget her and her secrets as soon as the month was over. “I worry.”
Fox brushed strands of hair off her face. “About what, baby?”
Heart aching at the tenderness she hadn’t foreseen, she said, “Of who I’ll become if I give in.”
Fox didn’t break eye contact at the uninvited emotional intimacy, though theirs was meant to be a strictly physical relationship. She was the one who lowered her lashes. “Addiction runs in my family.” Gambling, alcohol, women, love. It was the last, most dangerous addiction of all that had destroyed her mother.
Tipping up her chin, Fox sucked her upper lip into his mouth, then shifted his attention to the lower one. Breasts deliciously crushed against the taut wall of his chest, she shivered and curled her fingers around his neck, unable to get enough of his kisses.
“Do you think you’ll become addicted to mind-blowing sex?” A teasing question except there was no humor in the eyes that locked with hers.
This was getting too serious, too fast, but she was the one who’d opened the gate. “If I give in to this,” she whispered, “what other boundaries will I break? What other addictions will I develop?” That was the fear that haunted her always, shaping each and every one of her decisions.
“Have faith in yourself.” He pressed his lips to the shockingly sensitive spot below her ear, her shiver reflexive. “I do.”
Molly knew Fox was sweet-talking her to get her to do what he wanted in bed, his sexual experience apparent in the way he played her body like he played the crowds while onstage. None of that altered her unexpected, dangerous desire for him. “You were meant to be a one-night stand.” The biggest risk she’d ever taken. “Look where I am now. It’s a slippery slope.”
Fox’s answer was a kiss that took over her mouth, enslaved her senses. Her body attempted to rise toward his in a luxuriant wave, was halted by the weight of him pinning her in place.
When he broke the sumptuous intimacy of the kiss to look into her eyes once more, she was lost in the deep green. “Have faith, Molly,” he said again, and she crashed.
Drowned.
Chapter 7
Molly struggled up into a sitting position some time later, tucking her no doubt wildly tumbled hair behind her ears and pulling up the sheet to cover her br**sts. Just in time. Fox walked into the bedroom the next instant, holding a plate of cheese and crackers in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. She exhaled at the sight of him.
He was naked.
Except for the tattoos. A jagged tribal design in black ink ran along his left shoulder and licked at his neck before continuing down the left side of his back to his hip, the design sleek rather than bulky. His left arm, in contrast, was covered by a gorgeous stylized dragon in brilliant color, its body wrapping around Fox’s arm multiple times. Around the dragon were hundreds of tiny leaves—shaded from spring green to autumn brown—all in motion, as if the dragon had disturbed them in flight.
It truly was a piece of living art.
Those two were the biggest pieces, but on the right of his ridged abdomen fell three vertical lines of fine text that she’d read last night. They were from Schoolboy Choir’s first hit song, penned by Fox and Noah, with David and Abe providing the hard rock tempo that had helped shoot it to the top of the charts.
“We all have this tat,” he’d told her before he left the bedroom. “Different locations on the body.”
“Even David?” The drummer always looked so elegant and urbane.
Fox had grinned. “You’d be surprised what David has under those Ar-mani suits he likes to wear.”
Now, as Fox bent to put the bottle of wine on her dainty bedside table, she glimpsed the intricate pattern of black ink on the top of his right arm that he’d told her had been created for him by a friend who was a tattoo artist. Incorporating musical notes and hidden words, it was a puzzle that could be unraveled only by someone who really knew Fox.
That arm was otherwise bare of ink, except for a horizontal line of characters directly above his pulse point.
“What language is that?” she said, brushing her fingers over the characters, still not quite believing she had the right to touch him.
“Move your hand to the left and down and I’ll tell you.”
Heat in her cheeks as she saw he was semi-aroused. “How can you…” She waved in the general direction of his groin.
“Because you’re built and I have a high sex drive.” Grinning at her renewed blush, the lean dimple in his cheek devastating, he passed her the plate and got into bed. Or onto it.
“Under the sheet,” she ordered, trying to retain some sense of control when she knew it was far too late where Fox was concerned. “I can’t focus with you naked.”
A very male laugh, a hand in her hair as he drew her to him for one of his slow, drugging kisses.
“You know how to touch a woman.” It came out throaty, soft.