Molly

By the time I park my car in Brayden’s garage, my feet are aching and every muscle in my body is crying.

Tonight went pretty well, but one of my servers got a stomach bug and had to leave in the middle of her shift, meaning the other servers and I had to run ourselves ragged to pick up the slack.

But when I open the door and see tealight candles and rose petals leading a path down the hall, all that exhaustion hanging on me floats away like fluffy snow on a winter breeze. Down the hall, music plays softly beyond Brayden’s bedroom door, and every one of my aching muscles quiets as another part of me wakes up.

I hook my purse and coat on the rack in the hall and follow the candlelit path to the bedroom, my heart hammering.

Brayden meets me in the doorway and hands me a cold glass of champagne. Our fingers brush as I take it from him. “The bath is hot and ready for you.”

I smile over the rim of my glass. “Are you suggesting I might stink?”

His eyes roam over me. “I’m suggesting you might have had a long day and enjoy a soak. I didn’t think you’d appreciate me ripping off your clothes the second you walk in the door.”

I step closer. “Are you sure about that?”

His grin is unlike any smile he’s ever given me before—mischievous and a little goofy. I might even say boyish. “I’m trying to be a considerate lover.”

“That might be overrated,” I murmur, but I do have the film of food service on my skin and know I’ll feel a thousand percent sexier after a bath.

I saunter into the bedroom and turn to watch him while I drain my champagne. Placing my glass on the dresser, I meet his eyes. I slowly strip out of my dress then peel off my bra and panties. He watches every move and doesn’t so much as blink. “Join me in the bath?”

His neck bobs as he swallows. “If you want.”

I head toward the bathroom, swinging my hips and tossing him my most suggestive smile over my shoulder. “What do you think?”

The bathroom is more of the same—rose petals sprinkled around the tub, candles flickering on every surface—and the oversized, jetted tub is full of steaming, bubbling water that calls to me.

I pile my hair into a knot on top of my head and climb in. When Brayden walks into the bathroom, he’s gloriously naked and hard. Lust sears through me. I reach out my hand, and he steps into the tub. He sinks into the water and leads me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

The bath is hot, and when Brayden kicks on the jets, it pulls the tension from my muscles. I moan and melt into him, aware of the strength of him behind me, the length of his cock against my ass.

“How was the bachelor party?” I ask, trying to hide how much I just want to turn in his arms and slide onto him.

“It went well.” He presses his open mouth to my neck, and I tilt my head to the side, sighing into his kiss. “I think Ethan was happy, so that’s all that matters.”

“All of your brothers made it?”

His hands still their roaming across my stomach. “Do you really want to talk about my brothers right now?”

Chuckling, I turn in his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You’re always thoughtful enough to ask me about my day.” I straddle him, positioning my knees on either side of his hips. “I was just trying to return the courtesy.”

He groans and buries his face in my neck, scraping the tender skin with his beard as he nips, sucks, kisses. I rock against him. Harder. Faster.

He slides his hands down my soapy back and grips my hips, stilling me. “You keep doing that, and I’m going to end up inside you without a condom.”

My breath catches at the husky baritone of his voice and at the thought of feeling him like that. What would it be like, to be that close to him? To give myself to him without any barrier between us? I circle my hips despite his grip. “Would you mind? I’m on the pill.”

Cursing under his breath, he pulls back to meet my eyes. “Molly . . .”

I shift my hips slightly, changing the angle where our bodies touch, and he’s there—positioned against my entrance. I’m so ready. I have been all day long. Ready for him. For this. “Is it okay?”

His throat bobs as he swallows. “Yeah.” The word is breathless—more plea than permission—and I sink down onto him. My breath leaves me in a rush, because he feels amazing. Hard and strong, and I’m so full.

I tuck my face into the crook of his neck, hiding my face as emotion I don’t understand surges through me. This is Brayden, and he’s kind and tender and amazing. He’s the kind of guy who thinks to buy rose petals and to light candles. To pour champagne. The kind of guy who wants to get me off more than himself.

His hands are all over me, sliding up and down my back and gripping my hips as he whispers in my ear. So good. God, you’re beautiful. I’ve thought about you all day.

I keep my face buried in his neck, trying to hide, because I feel too exposed. Too vulnerable.

But when I’m close from his filling me so completely and pressing so impossibly deep, he slides his hands into my hair and draws me back to look into my eyes. “I want to see your face when you come,” he murmurs, and the words are my undoing, making my whole body coil tighter and tighter before I shatter around him. I’m a thousand broken pieces somehow held together by the stroke of his hands on my back and the intensity of his eyes on my face. He’s studying me like I’m a piece of fine art he wants imprinted on his memory.

I kiss him as I start moving again. I rub my tongue over his and tangle my hands in his hair, and I move faster as he swells inside me. When his orgasm hits, he rocks deeper and deeper until his climax barrels through him and he throws his head back and closes his eyes.

After, he gets a washcloth and washes every inch of me, smiling a bit as he takes extra care with my breasts and between my legs. When we finally climb out of the tub, my fingers are shriveled like raisins and the air is frigid. He wraps me in a blanket and leads me to the living room, where the lights of the Christmas tree twinkle in the dark room. When he flicks on the gas fireplace, I see he has another blanket spread out in front of the hearth.

There, he lays me down and kisses me gently, until we’re both spent and falling asleep in front of the flickering fire.

Brayden

The grandfather clock at the front of the house chimes three as I scoop Molly into my arms and carry her to my bed.

She’s so beautiful—nude and flushed from the heat of the fire, her lips still swollen from my kisses. She clings to me in her sleep, only waking as I pull the blankets down and lower her to the mattress.

“Brayden?” Sitting up, she rubs her eyes and looks at the clock. “I should go to my room. I don’t want Noah to see me sleeping in here.”

I frown. “He’s at your mom’s tonight.”

“He’ll be home early.” She lifts her eyes to meet mine, and I see the apology there as clearly as a line drawn in the sand. “I can’t risk it.”

I ignore the pang in my chest and take her hand as she climbs out of my bed. I ignore the voice that says this is the least of the hurt I’ve signed up for, and take her to her room, watch as she pulls on pajamas, then tuck her into her bed and kiss her good night.