Butter You Up: A Grumpy Sunshine Romantic Comedy

27. Alex

“No, show me.”I tug at Molly’s forearm and, reluctantly, she shows me the cracked skin under her pinkie. There are also some dry patches between her fingers and on her wrist bone, though they aren’t as red and angry.

“It’s eczema,” she quickly explains. “Not contagious. I haven’t been taking good care of it, and I was looking for you to tell you I was going home so that I could put my medicine on.”

I frown, tracing my thumb carefully over the broken skin. “Do you have some in your bag? If it’s still down at the farm shop, I can get it for you.”

She sighs. “No, the medicine is an ointment, and I have to apply it under band-aids or gloves because it gets everything oily, so I don’t carry it with me. I kind of wish I did now, though.”

I’m no stranger to cracked and chafed skin. “Hang on, I might have something for you.”

I slide open a drawer on Molly’s other side, the junk drawer, and pull out a green metal tin. “Try this stuff.”

Molly reads the label and then opens it up and smells it. Yeah, okay, it doesn’t smell the best, but it’s worth it.

“Come ‘ere.” I scoop a finger into the moisturizer and carefully slather some of the Bag Balm on her skin. I only intended to hit the trouble spots, but I pulled too much out, and the next thing I know, I’m massaging it into her palms and running my hands down her fingers. My hands are big and rough, working hands. Hers are small, of course, the pads of her fingers soft and the backs of her hands freckled.

When I glance up, Molly’s watching me. I’ve moved closer, her knees on either side of my hips. I desperately want to kiss her again, but the eggs are set, and dinner’s ready.

Reluctantly, I break away from Molly. I take the cast-iron skillet off the stove and set it down on potholders on the table. I move our wines and set plates out.

Molly hops off the counter and hands me the tin. “Thank you. It’s a little…” She opens and closes her hands, feeling the residue left behind.

“Don’t worry about touching anything. I never do and I use this stuff every day in the winter.”

She smiles at me. “Okay.”

Molly tells me she’ll be right back and disappears into my bedroom. When she returns a moment later, she’s taken the towel off her head and her damp hair, dark and weighted down by the water, seems longer and straighter. She swings a leg over the bench and sits facing the window, looking out over the view. It’s a little after seven, so it’s still full daylight out. For a moment, I wish it was sunset, and I had candles to light. That would be romantic as hell.

Not that I own candles. And I’ve never had dinner with a woman I’m falling for at my dining room table.

The thought makes my footsteps stutter as I carry silverware over. Falling for? Jesus, this is bad. Molly’s leaving, and here I am mooning over romantic dinners. We haven’t even had sex yet.

But then Molly looks over her shoulder at me, warmth in her gaze and a hint of a teasing smile on her lips, as if she can read my mind. No matter what we have or haven’t done, how much time we have left, it doesn’t matter at all.

I’m still a goner.

* * *

After dinner I send Molly out on the porch with a replenished glass of wine and Trixie at her heels while I do dishes. But the time I dry my hands, the daylight is finally fading, and I snag a blanket before stepping out to join her. “I thought you might get cold.”

Molly smiles up at me from her Adirondack chair. “You thought right. However…”

She jumps up, holding her wine glass, and gestures for me to sit. I do, and Molly climbs into my lap, arranging our limbs until she’s snug against my chest, the blanket draped over the arm of the chair instead of us.

She hums in contentment. “You’re so warm.”

We drink our wine and watch the daylight fade. I can hear the animals in the barn, the insects up in the trees, and occasionally, Trixie sighs at our feet. Molly’s damp hair is soaking through my shirt, but I couldn’t care less.

Here I am again, being sappy. This is the kind of evening a man could get used to. Granted, most nights I don’t have Perry staying late and taking care of the animals.

I better put this night to good use. Who knows if I’ll get another one before Molly takes off?

I put my wine glass down with a decisive click, and Molly hands me hers, still half full, which I put down next to mine. Briefly, I wonder if we’re having the same thoughts because when I reach down for Molly, she’s reaching up for me. This kiss is harder and more impatient, and soon, I’m half-turned in the chair, craning over a slumped Molly, her head back against the armrest and my mouth at her throat.

That damn flannel of mine that she’s been wearing has been driving me crazy all night. She buttoned it so low I could see the valley between her breasts. The same valley my lips are working toward right now. From below, my hands slide up her waist, and I cup my palm along her ribs right under her breast. She’s burning up here, and I feel the bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum of her racing heart against my palm.

“Alex,” she whispers, and it’s breathy with a hint of begging. I don’t have enough hands to do everything I want to do: hold her mouth to mine, feel her hair between my fingers, pinch her nipple, slide into the boxers she’s wearing and confirm that she’s bare underneath. When I’d found her underwear in the pile of clothes, I’d clenched it for a moment, dizzy knowing that Molly had been wearing blue string bikini panties all day.

“Alex.” This time it”s firmer and accompanied by a tug on my hair. I remove my lips from her skin and look up, loving the glaze of arousal in her eyes. “We are literally two rooms over from your bed. Can we please?—”

I stand before she can finish her sentence and scoop her out of the chair. She laughs, and Trixie scrambles to her feet behind us with an excited woof because the humans are playing.

When I step into my bedroom, I tell Trixie, “Go to your room,” and my dog darts into her bed.

“Oh my god,” Molly says. “I forgot to tease you about that. Your dog has a pink—oof!”

I peel back my comforter and drop Molly on my mattress, covering my mouth with hers. Her laugh turns into a moan, and she wraps herself around me. I grab her thigh, flexing my body to grind my hard cock between her legs while continuing our kiss.

Molly’s giving as good as she’s getting, arching up to rub against me. “Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good,” I mumble between kisses.

“Alex, please, I need you.”

Those words shoot straight to my dick, and I rear back, gripping both sides of my flannel and yanking. Buttons—the few that Molly had done up—fly across the room. I place an open-mouthed kiss on one breast and then the other. Molly’s outright writhing beneath me. While my mouth works, sucking and nipping, I shove the boxers down Molly’s thighs and then smooth a hand down her belly, through her soft curls, and into her wet, slippery cunt.

Molly cries out, and I listen, paying attention to every cry and gasp while I work my fingers inside her, my thumb against her clit, my tongue against her nipple until her body tenses and clamps around my fingers. Her silent scream arches her chest up, and her hands thread into my hair, holding me to her while she comes.

I slow, easing my fingers out and gentling my tongue, until Molly hums in satisfaction.

Pushing up on one hand, I gaze down at her. Her eyes are lidded, and her freckles stand out from her cheeks, which are flushed and plump with a smile.

“Please tell me you have a condom.”

“Fuck yeah I do.” After our first kiss, I checked my stash and resupplied condoms and lube—something I tried to sneak into a bag of groceries, but Kit found and teased me for.

I sit up, put my fingers in my mouth to clean them off, and then pull my shirt off over my head.

When I can see her again, Molly is chuckling.

“What?”

“You have no idea how sexy you are, do you? Next time you lick your fingers off, make eye contact.”

My cheeks heat.

“Actually, make eye contact when you take your shirt off like that, too. It was hot.” Her eyes drop over my chest. “Holy hell, Alex, you’ve been hiding that body under all those flannels?”

I shuck my pants off and crawl over her. “Shut up,” I say, but it comes out charmed instead of embarrassed.

We get distracted by kissing for a moment, but then I reach for the bedside table and peel open a condom. Molly watches, her bottom lip dimpled against her teeth while I roll it on and press against her opening.

It takes some repositioning, and I almost reach for the bottle of lube, but then Molly relaxes, and I slide in a few more inches. She hums and softens, and I thrust a few times, building to a rhythm that has her gasping and crying out beneath me.

I’m so overwhelmed by the heat and the sounds she makes that I have to pull back. We both breathe hard, and I push up on my hands to give us some space.

“Okay there?” she pants.

“Gettin’ too excited,” I admit.

She laughs, and I can feel it around my dick.

When she reaches for me, I lower down to my forearms again. She plants an achingly slow kiss on my lips.

“I like this,” she whispers.

“I like you,” I whisper back.

Molly’s eyes roam over my face, and her fingers run through my hair, over the back of my head, and down to my beard, as if she’s petting me.

“Tell me what you like,” she says, cocking her head.

“I fucking love your legs.” I punctuate it with a thrust. Her eyes dance. “I love your hair.” I card my fingers through her curls. When I meet her eyes again, Molly’s holding back laughter, and I think back to what I said until it clicks. “Oh, you meant in bed.”

“Yeah, but don’t stop.”

I kiss her teasing mouth, making it a deep one, only pulling back when she’s panting for breath and her eyes are hazy.

I take slow drags, pulling in and out of her body. Molly practically purrs.

“You like these legs?” Her knees squeeze my side.

“Yeah.” I shift to slide a palm up from her knee to her ass. “I want them wrapped around me.”

Molly raises her feet and locks them behind my back. “What else do you want?”

“Anything?” I whisper.

“Anything.”

“I want to take you hard and make you scream.” I kiss down her throat, thrusting deeper. “I want to spread you out and eat you for breakfast.” She digs her heels in, encouraging me to move faster.

“Bent over your desk,” she pants.

Jesus. “On a blanket under the stars in my truck bed.” My groin tightens, and I pass the point of no return, fucking into her harder. “Right here in my fucking bed.” I grunt, coming and straining inside her body, my head thrown back.

Molly strokes her hands up down my arms, quietly letting me come down. When I finally relax and roll off her, she props herself up on her elbow. “Alex Bedd. Who knew you had so much to say?”

I chuckle and roll off the bed to clean up. When I come back, Molly curls into me, asking what we should do next. I have some ideas, and I whisper them in her ear in a low voice, stroking her skin until I get hard again.

And then we do them.