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“I know what you mean,” Kate said softly, staring longingly at the picture.
It couldn’t have been easy for her to play both mother and father to Molly while she herself had been barely a teen. Although Eleanor Gage had been a stand-in mother for both of them, she was a stern woman, and as one did when running on survival instincts, both girls had tried to put on their best behavior and their whitest smiles with the person who’d given them food and shelter. But when alone, Molly would seek out Kate’s warmth and support like she’d seek out a pillow and blanket. Especially during those lonely times when Julian had been sent away. Sometimes Molly even wondered if she wasn’t to blame for Kate’s lack of a love life, a husband and a family of her own. The thought made her stomach feel heavy.
“You deserve someone, too,” Molly whispered.
Kate smiled brightly and winked at her. “Then let’s go find one,” she teased and rushed for the double doors that led inside, but Molly groaned and stayed back, loathing her stupid costume.
She had been dared by Julian to dress as a tavern wench tonight. And of course he knew Molly could never ignore a dare that he delivered. Alas, now here she was. In an outfit so tight she was barely able to breathe, which showcased her breasts in a way that made her feel as if she’d just stepped out of a porn magazine.
She had never felt so exposed in her life, and as soon as she saw Julian, probably dressed like some evil creature, for sure, Molly was going to tell him off for being such a cad. “I’ll catch up in a sec,” she lied to Kate before her sister disappeared inside.
Instead of following, she edged farther out on the terrace, where it was dark and the air was fresh from the gardens and nobody would see her in her corseted wench costume.
A silhouette by the banister caught her attention.
Someone was coming toward her. Zorro? she wondered. Or was it the Phantom of the Opera? Or maybe it was Westley, the dangerously sexy man from Molly’s favorite movie, The Princess Bride.
Whoever he was, he was hot. Clad all in black: black cape, a cloth mask covering both his hair and the upper part of his face. Black boots. And that smile. It just had to be Julian. Nobody smiled like Julian. He smiled like a wolf and made you want to be the lamb he was going to eat; it was very, very bizarre how he pulled that off.
She suddenly caught his glimmering eyes straying to her prominent cleavage and she felt something hot coil inside her belly.
“Well, well, well...” he murmured as he continued to approach.
His voice was thick and slurred, and she wondered how much he’d drunk tonight. He didn’t sound like himself at all.
He smiled again and her stomach tightened under his appreciation.
He had a drink in his hand, and when he raised it to his lips, watching her with those eerily sparkling eyes, she noticed that his glass was empty. He cursed under his breath, shook his head and swung around to leave, murmuring something about being crazy.
She frowned when she realized she would not be getting to tell him off just yet. “You’re going to leave me all alone out here?” she playfully called after him.
He paused for a moment, then turned, set the cup aside, and started for her with sudden purpose. With each long, determined stride, he dived deeper into the shadows Molly had been trying to hide herself in.
He was not smiling now. Something in his approach, in the tension in his shoulders, made her heart begin to pound. And pound faster. Faster. The way he moved, the way he frightened her...
It couldn’t possibly, possibly, be Julian.
She began, “What—?”
He pulled her up against him, so fast that her lips flew open and she sucked in a shocked mouthful of air. In one fluid move, he pinned her hands at her sides, then bent his face to hers, mask to mask. Molly had stopped breathing.
It was too dark to make out this stranger’s eye color, but she could still sense that gaze like a laser beam boring into her being. Her heart faltered when he made a sound, low and completely unrecognizable—a rumbling groan that was so hot and so male her toes curled.
His lips touched hers. The lightest of touches. Just a graze. Like the tiny spark that sets loose a wildfire. And Molly exploded with a rush of wanting so powerful it scorched every inch of her insides, infusing every particle of her being with heat.
Her lips opened as though on their own, and her body melted under his as a strange, embarrassing little moan escaped her. He seemed to like it, for his answering growl vibrated in her mouth as his lips latched firmly over hers.
He kissed her so possessively, a tornado of pleasure shot through her veins and her heartbeat skyrocketed to the ozone layer. His fingers bit into her buttocks as he dragged her up against him. Closer. Closest. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth with a groan of pleasure.
She tasted wine and immediately felt drunk on him. High on him. Wild for him. She was lost to a staggering rush of sensations as their mouths devoured each other with wet, greedy licks and suckles, her skin screaming with delicious agony as his hand stroked up her arms, caressing her. She had never felt so alive, so connected to another human being, as though her body were an extension of his larger, stronger one.
It was like being caught in a deluge of rain, and now she could feel his desire pour over her. Swimming in sensations, she felt the warm metal of a ring sliding upward as he stroked her shoulders, and her eyes jerked open when she realized this man kissing her, this man was...
Garrett?
How could it be?
He rarely put so much as a finger on her, he was so protective. Julian was always pawing her and she loved the little ways his touch made her feel. But while Garrett rarely reached out for her, when he did, Molly always felt this thick, smooth ring anywhere he put his hand. When he grasped her hand in his—ring. When he petted the top of her head—ring. When he secured her elbow to keep her from falling—aha. Ring.
Now Garrett was kissing her as if he was eating her alive, his ring almost like a brand across her skin as his hand greedily stroked her shoulders, then suddenly her throat, down her collarbone, to the top swell of her breast, tracing the shape of her.
He mumbled something, but she could hardly hear him through the roaring of her own heartbeat, his voice sounding alien and lust-roughened as he fiercely bent down to lick the exposed skin.
Rocked with the realization that this man, untouchable to her like all the Gages had been for her entire life, had thrown all caution to the wind and was kissing her as if his life depended on it left her knees in such a weakened state that she clung to him even while she tried to edge back to steal a quick peek at his ring.
The platinum band glinted in the shadows as he fondled her breasts, and yes, it was the same one-of-a-kind ring Garrett always wore, with a blue diamond at its center.
It was Garrett fondling her shamelessly.
And it felt so good, his touch so arousing, a rush of liquid heat flooded her between her thighs.
He groaned in misery when she went still with shock, yet he pulled her tighter against him anyway, as though her lips were powerful magnets for his. “Shh,” she heard him say, cooing to her, calming her as if she were both precious and wild. “Shh...”
When he edged his knee between her legs to part them, the skirt of her dress rose, and he expertly eased his hand through the layers of fabric to cup her between her legs, right where she’d grown wet for him. The heat of his palm burned through her panties, and her bones seemed to disintegrate into nothing. Nothing but heat and pleasure and sensation.
“Oh,” she gasped, body tensing as his fingers began stroking in slow, lazy circles, her head exploding in disbelief and excitement as a rush of hot lightning coursed through her.
His touch consumed her.
He touched her as if he owned her. As if he knew and cherished everything about her.
She’d never known she could respond like this to another human being.
She’d tried never to feel anything romantic for any of these Gage men—because they were her protectors and Kate said they were like their brothers and were therefore unavailable. But this one...this one wanted her and clearly didn’t give one whit about what Kate said. What anyone said. And Molly hadn’t realized she wanted him back so much until this very moment, when she was melting in his arms in a way she had never, ever imagined.
Needy sounds bubbled up in her throat as she rocked her hips against him, helpless to stop herself, her body a puppet to masterful hands that continued expertly stroking her. The sensations were so powerful she whimpered in mingled fear and longing, her insides coiling tightly like springs.
He groaned and bent his head to her ear, biting the lobe hungrily, desperately, those gut-wrenchingly sexy noises from his throat shooting arrows of heat to her nerve endings. His hungry mouth traveled all over her neck, leaving a wet path that sizzled as he pressed the heel of his palm seductively between her legs, rubbing and stroking exactly the parts that most ached and hurt and burned.
And then the worst part was that, with one more expert touch, one firm press with the heel of his hand, she’d exploded.
Molly still remembered the way she had trembled with that touch alone, and then she had wanted to cry, because she’d never had an orgasm before. Embarrassed to her core, she’d pushed him away as soon as she was able and gritted, “Don’t touch me. Don’t even talk to me! This never happened—never!”
And she’d yanked off her stupid mask, flung it aside and left.
The next day, Garrett had pretended that nothing happened, just as she’d told him to. And when she’d gone to talk to Julian about it, he’d been too hung over to focus and in a pissy mood. So she’d kept it to herself for over a dozen nights, her sexual siren having been awakened, now hungry for more and determined to do something about it. Once again, Molly wanted to weep in her bed in silence.
She wished she hadn’t kissed him.
She wished she hadn’t stopped.
She wished she hadn’t pushed him away.
She wished she’d had the courage to face the music, so that he would have done the same.
But more than anything, she wished to feel again like she’d felt that night.
Garrett had broken down and revealed his feelings for her in an unmistakable way, and though Molly had gloried in his intimate touch and his incredible kiss, she’d gotten scared in the end.
She wished she hadn’t given out the message that she wasn’t receptive to more of his delicious kisses and touches. Because the more she thought of and relived that kiss, the more she was convinced that unique connection wasn’t typical and that she’d just found her soul mate.
Without words, she’d been able to feel his love so powerfully that her own heart had sung inside her chest, and she ached desperately to be with him again.
Swallowing back a lump in her throat, she pounded the pillow and shifted to lie facedown on the bed. Go to sleep, Molly, and tomorrow you can show Garrett what he’s missing.
But rather than give her comfort, the thought only made her realize that the one person who had been missing out on the best things in life was Molly.
* * *
Julian knew exactly why he couldn’t sleep, why he was feeling so cranky and why everything felt like crap lately.
It was all Molly Devaney’s fault.
She was driving him crazy in every possible way he could imagine.
First with the Garrett thing. And now just thinking about her sleeping next door made him toss restlessly in bed, frustrated beyond measure.
Tonight, it had been raining outside when they loaded up her suitcases. By the time Molly had stepped into his apartment, she’d looked so...wet. God, he’d really tried not to look at the way she needed to peel her shirt back from her breasts, but he lacked the willpower.
Lying back in his bed, he tried to cool down his roiling blood, his head swimming with the sight of her breasts, perfectly round, with those pointy nipples straining against the fabric of her top.
And when she’d kissed him upstairs, so happy to be painting the mural for him, it had taken all his willpower not to turn his face and capture that kiss with his lips, kiss her long and hard as if he’d wanted to back in her apartment—where she’d been flushed and gasping for breath after the silly little peck he’d given her. And those cherries. Goddamn the sounds she made as she ate those miserable cherries!
It had been a miracle Julian hadn’t lunged across the seat of his car, taken her face between his hands and suckled each and every cherry from her cool and sassy mouth.
Hell, this is the worst idea I’ve ever had in my life.
For years, Julian had grown up with rules that he’d tried to follow, knowing the only girl he’d ever respected and admired was out of his reach. Molly was the one woman Julian would want to be locked in a closet with. Stranded on a deserted island with. She was the only good and pure thing in his life, and despite some failed efforts, he’d tried to keep it that way. Unsullied and unsoiled, happy and protected.
Growing up, he’d always imagined they would have each other. Molly had never liked to date, and she’d always needed Julian. Julian had kept his hands off her and on just about anyone else in his efforts to keep busy, stay focused and more importantly, stay away from Molly.
But now—she wanted Garrett.
A Gage.
Julian’s stomach roiled with nausea at the reminder. God. He’d never imagined this could ever happen.
At first, he’d thought she was pulling his leg, or trying to make him jealous. In the back of his mind, he’d always imagined that if Molly ever fell in love with one of the Gage brothers, it would be...him. Dammit, him and only him. Because she sure as hell never seemed to look at anyone else.
Even his family had thought Molly wanted him, which was why every time he got close to Molly, all hell would break loose. His mother, Landon, Garrett, even Kate would pounce. Julian had suffered endless lectures from them all about being good to Molly, staying away from Molly, respecting Molly or finding another home. For the most part, he had been good. Really good.
But now, years and what felt like aeons later, the fact that Molly wanted his brother was a game changer. Julian had been living in this hell long enough, and he could no longer kid himself that the magic, the pull, the impossible chemistry between Molly and him was only due to friendship. He knew full well that when she made his groin throb with her smiles, they were not friendly feelings. Much less brotherly ones.
He’d been dreaming about her for years. Powerful dreams. Sexual dreams. Dreams that left him drenched in sweat and groaning in pain and reaching for the first pair of female legs that passed him.
Yeah, he’d thought if he’d had sex more often, his powerful reactions to her would diminish. But all it did was make him want her more—because none of those women were Molly.
No. No one could ever even compare to that effervescent little bombshell—no one.
Now he just needed to play his game right. Julian might have a long comfortable fuse where his temper was concerned, but when it came to Molly, his fuse had run damn short. If she kept this up he was going to do something reckless and stupid.
And he didn’t want to be reckless and stupid.
He’d been moving his pieces all in the direction of one goal so he could stake his claim on her once and for all.
Now he’d prove to his family that he did not need them, and that he would never hurt a single hair on Molly’s beautiful head. He needed them to see that he was worthy of her, that he wanted her for real and not just for sex—though of course when that happened, it was going to be damned amazing, too. But more importantly, he needed to show them that he would do whatever it took to have her. Even cut his ties with them all.
If Molly was ever going to settle down with a guy, she was settling down with Julian. Whether they liked it or not.
And as for Molly...
He had to make her see that he was the man for her and always had been—and once and for all, he had to finish what he’d started the night he’d kissed her heart out at the masquerade party.
Four
Something about sleeping in Julian’s apartment made Molly restless.
Well past midnight, still tortured by the memory of Garrett’s kiss, she found herself tiptoeing down the hall toward the kitchen in the hopes of finding some sort of sleep aid in his cupboards. She had her heart set on Sleepytime Tea, but valerian root or chamomile would do, too. Hey, at this point, she’d take anything as long as it meant quieting her troubled brain and getting some rest.
But what she found on her way to the cupboards was a beautifully sculpted, seminaked man instead—and the sight of him was sure to give her permanent insomnia.
Wearing only a pair of white cotton briefs that hugged his buttocks perfectly, he leaned against the open refrigerator door, his head stuck inside as he surveyed the food.
Molly stopped in her tracks, her heart flying to her throat.
The warm fridge light silhouetted Julian’s magnificent form, shamelessly caressing every dent, every shadow and every sharp rise of lean, ripped muscle. Her breasts pricked unexpectedly. And suddenly he was not just Julian.
He was every inch...Julian John Gage.
Sexy playboy, dangerous male.
Not a hero, not harmless and definitely not just a friend.
A tremor rushed down her legs as her eyes helplessly drank up what was so blatantly on display, aided by the moonlight that filtered through the windows; she took in the sinewy arm folded above his head as he leaned forward, the broad muscled back, the lean hips and...the rest. His long, muscled calves and hamstrings, his hard buttocks under that snug white cotton.
Her temperature skyrocketed. Not because he was utterly sexy in a way that made her want to swim in ice right now, but because she was here. With him. At midnight. And he was about 90 percent naked. When it should be Garrett here, Garrett almost naked, Garrett in her head.
Her hormones clearly knew nothing of reason. They burst into action until she could feel the hot little pinpricks all over her body, to her utter confusion and despair.
