Five minutes later and back upstairs, I sighed as I saw Molly was still writing furiously and looking beyond exhausted, a huge stack of notes piled up on her right. My entrance finally broke her from her philosophy zone and she looked up at me in shock.
“We need a break,” I told her sternly.
“How long have we been in here?” she asked with a yawn, stretching her cramped muscles and rubbing at her eyes under her black frames.
“About six hours,” I answered in a reprimanding tone as I handed her a bagel.
“Oh. Crap.”
“Yep, crap,” I answered with a laugh, her exaggerated accent amusing me to no end. I’d never known a Brit before Molly, and sometimes the things she came out with and the way she pronounced shit was f**king hilarious.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she sat on her seat, and more importantly, I couldn’t take my eyes off Molly’s tongue as it ran along both lips as she stared at her food. I tightened my hand on my coffee death grip, imagining that mouth licking around the tip of my cock. And when she took a sip of her cappuccino, moaning out loud in satisfaction, the bastard lid popped off, the hot liquid scalding on my chest.
“Shit!” I shouted, launching to my feet, pulling the boiling, wet material off my gray shirt.
“You okay?” Molly asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Just… don’t make those kind of noises around me, Mol,” I instructed tightly, moving to adjust my now rock-hard c**k in my jeans. Molly’s breathing grew labored at my words and her br**sts pushed against her dress. I wanted her so damn much, but she wasn’t like the other girls. She wasn’t just a f**k, didn’t give her pu**y to anyone wearing a Tide jersey. And more shockingly, I was quickly realizing that I wanted her for more than just one night.
Yeah. Imagine that. My feelings for her were spiraling out of control, confusing the absolute crap out of me.
Taking a seat, we both stared at each other in silence, the tension pulsing once more, until I cracked my knuckles and stretched out my arms, saying, “You must be nearly done now. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard at anything. I have no doubts you’ll make one hell of a professor.”
Losing the flush to her heated cheeks, she shrugged. “I love studying. It keeps me occupied.”
“From what?”
“From thinking about other things.”
“Like?” The desolation that appeared on her face at that question cut me to the core.
“Bad things… upsetting things… things from my past.”
I felt that pain, knew that pain, so I reached out and took her hand that was resting on the table in support, throwing all caution to the wind and confessing, “So studying does for you what you do for me?”
Her hand shook slightly in mine, and she looked anywhere but at me. I pulled on her hand, jerking her closer. “It’s true. You’re doing something to me, Mol.”
“I… What? You…?” she mumbled, moodily pulling back her hand when I laughed and then launched a piece of her bagel, I assumed, at my head, but instead it hit my chest. She may be a genius, but she had shit aim.
My heart nearly exploded with happiness as I shoved it in my mouth and she couldn’t contain her laughter. It seemed we were good at doing that for each other, lightening our moods after getting lost in the memory of our dark times.
“So how are you feeling today?” she asked, genuine concern in her tone. Someone was genuinely concerned for me. It felt… nice.
“Better,” I replied, smiling. “This pretty gal helped me get through some personal shit.”
Her head bowed and she looked up playfully through her long black lashes, pretending to search under the table and around the room. “What gal? What does she look like?”
Scrunching up my face in mock concentration, I answered, “Brunette, hot accent, f**king sexy as hell librarian-with-glasses thing going on.”
Molly shook her head in dismissal. “Right. But seriously, are you okay?”
Time to cut the shit. She deserved to know, and more importantly, I finally wanted to open up to someone, even if it was just a small glimpse at who I was. “Getting there. One day at a time,” I confided quietly.
Nodding proudly, Molly went back to her notes, understanding I couldn’t be pushed too far. I loved that about her. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she sipped on her coffee. She was pretty—there was no question about that—but she didn’t try hard to make herself more beautiful, didn’t coat herself in a ton of makeup or tight clothing. But sitting before me right now, she looked like a supermodel, the most stunning girl I ever saw. Her easy acceptance of my damn moody ways made her the most beautiful girl in the world to me.