Teaching Molly (2 page)

“I did just fine, Dina. No problem. I enjoyed the evening very much.”

Dina waved a hand in the air. “I had big hopes you might meet someone here but Frank pointed out to me I didn’t invite enough single men who were old enough. You know, in your age group.”

Ouch! Bring out the senior citizen label.

“Not a problem, Dina. Everything was great.”

“I just feel so terrible for you since the, you know…”

Molly snorted. “It’s a divorce, not a contagious disease. Anyway, thanks for your hospitality. Gotta run now.”

But the divorce
had
been like a disease that infected her, their friends, almost everyone they knew. Craig had made it as unpleasant for everyone as he could. Now she was tired of people giving her what she called the “Poor Molly” look, while Craig strutted around town with his Miss Universe wannabe. She hoped his supply of Viagra held out.

Sighing, she climbed into her sexy little Miata convertible, her consolation gift to herself the day the divorce was final, and headed down the driveway and onto the highway.

She wasn’t alone on the road. Other cars had left before and after her. Supposing—

just supposing—that when she spotted the Lincoln Navigator—
if
he was actually waiting for her—how was she expected to flash her lights without making people stop to think she was in trouble? And how would he manage to get in front of her without causing a problem? Maybe he wouldn’t even be there. Maybe he was just giving her a line to cheer up “Poor Molly”.

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Teaching Molly

But no, there he was, pulled to the side just like he’d said.

Before she could take time to think about it, to second guess herself, she flashed her lights. Just once. And just as if they’d rehearsed it, he waited out the cars going by and pulled in front of her as smoothly as you please.

A few minutes later she saw his turn signal come on and the SUV turned into a driveway as long as the Emersons’. Swallowing, she turned in right behind him and followed him down a winding caliche surface. Her palms were sweaty on the steering wheel and her pulse was dancing like a Mexican jumping bean. How pathetic that this was the most daring thing she’d ever done in her life.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out and parked her car in the space he indicated. Life was about to change for Molly Gerard.

* * * * *

“Your house is unbelievable.” Molly stood in the middle of the great room, looking everywhere, awed by the magnificence of the structure. “Your design, right?”

“I cannot tell a lie.” Nick handed her a small snifter with brandy in it. “When I bought the property, it had nothing on it. I drove around the Hill Country and gathered ideas. Then I drove my contactor nuts to get it right.”

“It was worth the effort.” She couldn’t help admiring the soaring beamed ceiling, the massive stone fireplace, the window walls that now reflected the soft lighting Nick had turned on when they came in.

What the hell am I doing here? Do I sound as nervous as I feel? He’ll think I’m an anxious
virgin or a dried up spinster. Oh, wait. I’ve been married. I can’t be a spinster. Just dried up.

“Stop thinking so hard. You’ll give yourself a headache.” Nick smiled as he handed her a snifter of brandy and touched his own glass to it in a toast. “To new beginnings.”

“Is that what this is?” She sipped at the brandy, holding the glass with both hands to conceal their tremor.

“I hope so.” He reached out and caressed her cheek with his fingertips, a ghost of a 11

Desiree Holt

smile quirking one corner of his mouth. “Don’t be so panicky, Molly. Just enjoy the brandy. Nothing will happen unless you want it to. I promise.”

His voice made her shiver deliciously. Unless she wanted it to. Oh, she wanted it all right, with an intensity that shocked her. As she was driving the short distance to his house all those erotic images had started clanging around in her brain again, teasing her. Feelings she didn’t even know she had were taking control of her body. She felt almost as if she was an actor in a play, where she would finally be able to indulge in all her long-suppressed fantasies.

But if the night progressed that way, she’d have to take off her clothes.

Well, of course, dummy. You don’t act out fantasies with your clothes on.

Her problem was she was forty-five years old and her body had developed the flaws that come with aging. No number of trips to the gym and self-discipline routines could conceal them. How would she compare with his other women, women she was sure were toned and lithe and without blemish?

And that wasn’t the only thing that made her insides quake and her self-confidence leap to suicide mode. She was positive that where Nick Trajan’s sexual needs and desires were concerned she’d be a fumbling novice. So why didn’t she just thank him for the drink and go home before she embarrassed the hell out of herself?

“Why me?” she asked him, butterflies doing the jitterbug in her stomach as she waited for the answer. “You could have any woman you want. Certainly many much closer to your age. What do you want with an old woman like me?”

She tried to smile, to make a joke out of it, but inside she wasn’t laughing.

Nick took her cold hand in his warm one. “What is this I’m hearing? Molly, Molly, Molly. I would be proud to show you off to anyone.” His eyes were hot as they pinned her gaze. “I don’t make my choices of women according to the calendar. I find it unbelievable that the men tonight didn’t seem to appreciate you in the least. But I was gratified because it opened the way for me.”

She gave a short laugh. “I know what they all think of me. It isn’t very flattering.”

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Teaching Molly

“Then they’re all stupid.” He led her to the mammoth couch against one stone wall.

When he sat down, she noticed he made sure there was enough space between them for her to feel comfortable. Not trapped. But there wasn’t enough space in the world, she thought, to prevent his raw, masculine power from surrounding her.

In the soft light from the lamps he’d turned on, she got a much better look than she had at the Emersons. Now she could see the amazing silver color of his eyes, the thick, sooty lashes that framed them and the hint of mystery reflected in them. The slightly rough planes of his face and the thin white scar that ran along the left edge of his jaw—

just enough to keep him from being too handsome and diluting his potent sexual appeal.

In his black cotton V-neck sweater and black jeans he looked like a sensual devil come to draw her into the unknown. She barely controlled the shiver that skittered along her spine.

He leaned gracefully into the corner of the couch, one arm along the back. “So, Molly Gerard, I’m curious as to why you think Daffy Dina has you on her ‘pity’ list.”

Molly dropped her eyes to the drink she was holding. “A story too sad to bore you with. And far too embarrassing.”

“I don’t think so.” His voice was pitched low and seductive. “Nothing about you could be boring. And you never have to be embarrassed in front of me. Ever.” He took a sip of his drink. “So tell me, Molly, what’s the problem? You mentioned no husband.

Widowed or divorced?”

She sighed and swallowed some of the brandy, hoping the burning liquor traveling down her throat would give her courage. For whatever. She let out a slow breath.

“Divorced. Publicly and humiliatingly.” Her short laugh held no humor. “Traded in for a buxom blonde half my age. The most effective way to point out my glaring shortcomings as a wife, I guess.”

She’d hardly noticed that he’d moved closer to her in tiny increments until his hand reached out and gently twisted one of her gold-streaked curls around an index finger.

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Desiree Holt

“Age is relative, Molly. There are women in their twenties who I wouldn’t take to a dog show and women in their forties that I’d give my left nut to drag into the bedroom.”

Her laugh sounded false even to herself. “Pardon me for being crass but looking at you I’m sure you don’t need to resort to old ladies to fill your time.”

“You’re right.” He had inched even closer. “I don’t have to
resort
to anything. When I see a beautiful, sexy woman, I don’t ask for her birth certificate. Age isn’t what counts.

Do you know the minute I saw you, my cock got so hard I wasn’t sure I could walk?”

Molly felt her face heat. She was sure she was blushing. Craig had never spoken so blatantly to her. Maybe that was the problem.

“I’m forty-five years old, Nick. I’m a refugee from a bad marriage and I think any high school teen knows more about sex than I do.”

“Is that so?” He was close enough now to take her glass from nerveless fingers and set it on the table next to his. “What a blessing. That just means I don’t have to worry about measuring up to anyone else’s performance.”

“But—”

“Uh-uh. No talking.”

She knew he was going to kiss her and she closed her eyes to savor it. But nothing could have prepared her for the shock of heat that surged through her the minute his lips touched hers. They felt like warm, rough silk, but his tongue, when he slipped it easily into the wetness of her mouth, was like a dancing flame. Every place he touched—the roof of her mouth, her inner cheeks, the insides of her lips—felt scorched with a heat that drove straight to her womb and her nipples. She felt juices gather inside her pussy, something she’d only recently learned how to produce with manual stimulation. And never with Craig. Ever. She’d gotten through all those years with a lifetime supply of KY liquid.

His arms slid around her to pull her to his chest, one hand tangled in the thickness of her hair. Somewhere in the back of her mind she suspected she was getting in over 14

Teaching Molly

her head but her body didn’t care. And now neither did she. If he meant what he said, she was finally going to experience it all.

When she shifted against him so her breasts rubbed against his chest through the thin cotton of his sweater, he groaned into her mouth and tightened his hold on her.

Molly was so wet between her legs now she was sure the liquid had leaked out onto the couch, and the lips of her pussy throbbed with an insistent demand. With just his kiss she felt wild and wanton, excited, eager to explore whatever he suggested.

When Nick lifted his mouth from hers, still just a breath away, his silver eyes had darkened to a stormy gray. She felt as if all the air in her body was trapped in her lungs.

“You know I didn’t just ask you here to engage in polite conversation.” His voice had a rough thickness to it. “The minute I laid eyes on you I wanted to fuck you, Molly, in ways you can’t even imagine. But be aware there’s still time for you to say ‘thanks for the drink’ and bug out of here. If that’s what you want.” His tongue licked the seam of her lips. “So what is it, sweet princess? Stay or go?”

She was crossing a line here. Oh yes, that was a fact. Deep in the pit of her stomach she knew Nick Trajan was not just another man with well-developed sexual prowess.

There were hidden meanings in his words and his kisses. Wasn’t this what she wanted?

What she’d been craving in her secret dreams? But was she daring enough to do this?

To expose herself to whatever he had to offer? To let him teach her the delights of erotic sex?

“What if I don’t measure up?” she whispered, almost afraid to ask the question.

He dipped his head and his tongue licked at the pulse beat in the hollow of her throat. “This isn’t a competition, Molly. I want you. Pure and simple. There’s no way you’ll disappoint me, so don’t even think it. So.” He looked up. “What’s your answer?”

“Stay,” she whispered, her heart jackhammering in her chest.

“Then I think we need to take this to another room. I like my comforts.”

He lifted her in his arms as easily as if she was a feather, carried her to an open door 15

Desiree Holt

at the far end of the room, reaching out as he entered to flip on a switch that turned on four small lamps.

His bedroom was exactly what she would have expected. Dark furniture with graceful lines to soften its starkness. Beige carpeting and walls but bright splashes of navy and green in the coverlet, the two chairs next to a small table and the tiebacks of the drapes framing yet another window wall.

“Don’t move,” Nick said, setting her down next to the bed. “Stay right there.”

He stepped away from her to the complex entertainment center on one wall, pushed a button and soft music drifted into the room from hidden speakers.

“Stay right there,” he reminded her, as he lit candles set in a row on a shelf to one side, the scent of lavender filling the air. Then he was back beside her, giving her that sexy half-smile again. “Sorry. If I’d known you were coming I’d have been better prepared. The music would have been on, the candles already filling the room with their scent, the bed properly turned down.”

“Oh!” She was breathless. “I’d say you don’t need much warning at all. Besides, I like it better that it wasn’t so…planned.” She looked down at her feet, then raised her eyes to his. “Could we turn out the lights, please? Do you mind?”

He cupped her face with his lean fingers, his thumbs tracing lightly over her cheekbones. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I want to see every inch of you, Molly. Every sweet, mouthwatering inch. You don’t ever have to hide from me.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Well, you see, that is, I mean…”

“What is it?” His voice was a gentle caress. “What’s worrying you?”

“Nick, I told you. I’m not thirty years old any more.”

“Thank God,” he breathed.

“My body…”

“Is mature and ripe and exactly what I want. You won’t disappoint me, Molly. I promise you.”

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Teaching Molly

“I hope not,” she whispered, as his fingers reached for the hem of her top and began tugging it over her head. Then her bra was gone and her first instinct was to lift her arms and cross them in front to cover herself.

Nick gently but forcefully tugged them down. “Look at you.” His voice was almost reverent. “Your breasts are magnificent. I can’t wait to feel them and taste them.”