Chapter 24
INCH BY INCH
GREY
It's Saturday night, well past dark, and Molly is sighing into my mouth, her body soft on top of mine. We've been together all day--she came to the Rambler's game I coached, and we've been here ever since, pretending we're going to work on the house.
You know, because of the concussion and all. Hasn't been twenty-four hours yet.
A flash of warning shoots through my chest under her palm. Twenty-four hours, and I've given up every inch of ground I had to stand on. But that's nothing new. I've been handing it over inch by inch for weeks, if I'm being honest. Which I'm not.
We've been lying on the couch kissing for hours. Occasionally we stop and pretend to watch a movie or talk like we're going to attack the list of shit to fix around here. Inevitably, we end up like this.
My brain is pumping out so much dopamine, there might be permanent damage.
I don't know when I've ever felt so good. I'm sure there was a time. Maybe in college? But I don't think so. Not like this.
My tongue traces the seam of her lips, and she opens for me, eager and trusting.
Christ, the taste of her, sweet and warm and addictive.
Her hair is silky, soft curls wrapping around my fingers.
My other hand is occupied with her ass. When I squeeze, she makes a little sound in the back of her throat, and I feel it in my cock, which I ignore.
I could kiss her like this for fucking ever.
Live in the shape of her mouth, the sweetness of her.
She breaks the kiss, rising to plant her hands on my chest so she can adjust her legs on the small couch, her outside knee keeps slipping.
But even fully clothed, the sight of her like this, her tits bracketed by her arms and elbows locked, spins a string of images in my mind.
I want her just like this, naked and riding me, lips wet and swollen, breathless.
My hips flex involuntarily at the thought, and she smiles down at me, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and grinding me right back before settling back on top of me to resume the slow, hot kisses.
I trail my lips along her jaw, down to that spot below her ear that makes her shudder.
There it is--that little hitch in her breath.
She's practically purring, her body relaxed and pliant, tilting her head to expose her throat.
I give her what she wants. Press kisses down her neck, gentle and reverent, her pulse racing under my lips, then the vibration when she sighs my name.
I want to hear it again. And again. And again, in every pitch and tone of desire.
The doorbell rings, and she groans when I break the kiss.
"Dinner," I note roughly.
"I don't want dinner," she says, angling for my lips again.
I chuckle, give her a chaste kiss sit up and set her on the couch. She pouts. I adjust my jock.
The delivery driver is already pulling out of the drive.
The porch light keeps going out and make a reminder to check the electrical work, but I raise my hand in a wave to the deliver guy anyway and pick the pizza up off the porch.
When I see a bundle of wildflowers next to the post, I frown.
Pick it up. They're tied with twine, yellow and purple and white. There's no note.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle with the breeze, and I scan the dark tree line, frowning. But nothing's out of place. So I shake it off and head inside.
"These were on the porch," I say, setting the pizza box down and handing her the bouquet.
"Oh, how pretty," she answers happily, burying her face in the blooms before pulling back to look at them again. "Was there a note?"
Shaking my head, I stride to the kitchen where I know she keeps her vases.
"Huh. I wonder who left them."
I fill up the vase and take it to her, watching as she pulls the twine and arranges them in the vase. "Who do you think might have?"
"I don't know. Maybe one of the girls?" Then she laughs, adjusting her glasses as she gets up and puts the flowers on her mantle. "You know, I do have a couple of not-so-secret admirers."
Jealousy rips through me. "Oh?"
"Yes, one in the third grade, one in fourth. I got some very ardent Valentines from both of them." Her stomach rumbles loud enough that I give her a look, and she rolls her eyes at me, smiling.
"Where do you wanna eat?" I ask.
"In here. I'll get some napkins." She's already bounding into the kitchen, curls bouncing, her ass in those fucking shorts screaming my name.
I don't know what I'm going to do with her.
It's taken every shred of restraint I possess to keep myself in check, not get rough, not go too far.
But I have a feeling that at some point, I'm gonna really let go of the leash and turn into a fucking animal.
A shudder clicks down my spine at the thought, my mouth watering.
I flip open the box, and the salty, garlicky scent hits me--I pick up a piece and shove the narrow end in my mouth, taking a mannerless bite. I moan., my eyes rolling back
"It's good?" she asks, smiling as she plops down on the floor next to me, tossing the napkins on the coffee table and reaching for a piece of her own.
"Mmhmm." I take another bite before swallowing the last one.
"You sound like you haven't had pizza in a million years." She takes a bite, and I shrug, swallowing.
"I haven't," I answer around what’s in my mouth then take another bite. All that's left is the crust.
She chuckles with her lips together, watching me. "You're gonna make yourself sick."
"Worth it."
"How come you don't have pizza? You seem to like it plenty."
"Don't have anybody to share it with."
I catch a flicker of a smile on her lips, her eyes softening a touch, like she sees past the casual statement and into me.
Something about that small smile hits me.
My loneliness feels real and raw, and it's all because of her.
The contrast of her presence is dizzying--—when I'm with her, it feels like everything I thought I knew is wrong.
It's liberating. It's intoxicating. It's terrifying. It's everything.
"Sure, but you could eat the leftovers."
"Listen, peaches--after forty, this--" I gesture to my torso. "--doesn't come cheap. And eating a whole pizza isn't gonna do me any favors."
"Well, I'll share a pizza with you," she says happily, leaning toward me puckered lips first like a cartoon character for a kiss.
When my lips meet hers for a peck, they're smiling. My heart, thrumming in my chest, is scared to death of how bad I want to share every pizza with her. "Thanks, babygirl."
"Anytime, coach."
Internally, I rankle at the word. It's never bothered me before. But now it feels flippant, too casual. Like I'm an acquaintance. I don't want to be coach with her anymore.
The chemistry between us is electric, that I can't deny. But it's the light in her, the hope, her effortless sparkle that twists my chest, that leaves me aching for her. I don't just want what's between us, I want her. The fullness of her, the moments where she's just herself.
Moments just like this.
Fuck. I really need to go. Problem is, I'd rather die a grizzly death by meat grinder.
I pick up another piece of pizza and eat my feelings.
Whatever movie was on is over, and she reaches for the remote. "What do you want to watch?"
You come. I almost said it out loud. "I should go. It's late."
She frowns at me. "It's ten."
I chuckle. "That's late."
"But--"
"We said no sleepovers."
"We said a lot of things. Like one step at a time. And no spending the night. And keep it casual." She looks at me pointedly. And she's not wrong.
"Molly--"
"You stayed last night."
"That was different. You had a concussion."
"And this morning? When we…" She trails off, blushing.
This morning. My cock twitches just thinking about it.
"That wasn't exactly the plan."
"Plans change."
I rake a hand through my hair. "If I stay--"
"If you stay what? We break another rule? Grey, we've been breaking rules since you made them."
"That's my point. This is getting…" I can't find the word. Maybe I don't want to.
"Real?" she says quietly.
I look at her, hold her gaze. "Yeah."
"Is that bad?"
"I don't know," I admit. It might be the most honest thing I've said all night.
She looks a little hurt, and it guts me. "For you or for me?"
"Either of us."
After a beat, she perks up. "Well, I don't want you to go." She tosses her half-eaten pizza in the box and dusts her hands off over the open top.
It's so simple. Honest. It guts me.
"Molly…" I sigh.
"I know what we said, I know the rules. I just think they're bullshit. I love it when you're here. You make me feel good and happy and I--" She bites off the rest, pursing her lips.
What? You what? Say it. Please say it.
She shakes her head, picking up her pizza. "Never mind. Forget it." She takes a look at it, then puts it down again.
I toss mine in next to hers and lean in, meeting her eyes. "Tell me."
"I just want more time with you. That's all."
More time. Like we have all the time in the world.
I should leave. I should walk out the door. Give us both some air.
Don't think I could do it if I tried.
"What if we make a new rule?" I ask instead.
"What kind of rule?"
"Weekends only. I'll stay the night. Not on weeknights--we have work, and if I'm here every night, that's…"
Too much. Too real. Too everything I swore this wouldn't be.
"Weekends only?"
"Gives us this…" I gesture between us. "But keeps some boundaries."
She studies me. "You need the boundaries."
More than you know. Without them, I'll drown.
"I think we both do," I answer gently. "Just to keep our heads straight."
She looks at me like we both know our heads are sideways and spinning around and every which way but straight. But she doesn't say so. Instead, she nods.
"Okay. Weekends."
Relief washes over me. "You sure?"
One of her brows arches. "Are you sure? You're the one who keeps trying to leave."
A laugh slips out of me. "That's because I know what happens when I stay."
"And what's that?"
"It gets harder and harder to leave."
"Then don't."
I look at her, shake my head in wonder. "You say it like it's that easy."
"Isn't it?"
"No," I answer on another laugh, this one drier, less amused. "Goddamn girl--you are trouble, you know that?"
"You like it," she says proudly, picking up her pizza again.
"That's the problem." I take the pizza from her and toss it back in the box, kissing her instead.
She rises up to her knees, the kiss deepening when she winds her arms around my neck.
Fuck it.
With no trouble, I grab her arm, duck in, and throw her over my shoulder. She's squealing, laughing, trying to hang onto her glasses as I carry her away.
"Grey, what are you doing?"
I slap her ass, and she yelps. "Taking you to bed."
"But the pizza!" She's giggling and wiggling pretending to fight me.
"The pizza will keep. I told you--it's late. You want me to stay? Then it's time for bed."
"You're crazy."
"You like it."
"That's part of the problem," she answers, echoing me.
And god help us, but it's true.