Talk Me Down. Victoria Dahl

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СКАЧАТЬ house. Professor Logic he might be during the daylight hours, but he was becoming acquainted with a whole new personality tonight. Captain Man-Slut, maybe. He didn’t care about complications or questions or intoxication. He knew he’d care in the morning, and he didn’t give a shit about that, either. He just wanted some Molly, bad.

      The two hours in the bar had been pure pleasure for Ben. He’d recognized the old Molly he’d liked so well all those years ago. She’d been silly and immature, giggly and girly, but all of her still glowing with that sheen of comfort, of being at ease with herself.

      She seemed to draw eyes without even noticing, seemed comfortable with attention without needing it. And she laughed. A lot. Ben didn’t laugh much, and he thought it would be a grace in his life, a blessing, to hear a woman laugh every day, every hour. To hear her laugh in his bed.

      Something shivered inside his chest, scaring the hell out of him. Ben eased his foot off the accelerator and slowed down to twenty-five. He had to get it together, or he was going to make a serious mistake. He didn’t know a damn thing about her, not anymore.

      As soon as he pulled into her driveway, he put the truck in Park and turned to her. “Please tell me what you do for a living.”

      She arched an eyebrow. “Are you trying to take advantage of my blood alcohol level?”

      “Absolutely. You know me, Molly. You know how much I hate secrets. You know I could never trust someone who wouldn’t be honest and up-front.”

      “I am being honest and up-front.” She didn’t seem at all disturbed, just sad. She was still curled up and sleepy, unconcerned that his guts were tangled in knots.

      “You must be doing something you’re ashamed of or you wouldn’t hide it.”

      “No, I’m not ashamed.”

      Instead of banging his head against the steering wheel, Ben made a calculated move. Calculated, but pleasurable all the same. He reached across the space of the truck and touched her, brushing her temple with the pad of his thumb. “Why won’t you tell me?”

      Her eyes closed. She made a tiny humming sound as he dragged his knuckles over her soft skin. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, a kiss of her pink temptation against his rougher texture.

      “Why, Molly?” he whispered.

      She opened eyes full of sorrow. “Lots of reasons. My parents…Quinn is so smart and successful. They’re so proud of him, and they should be. He’s amazing.

      “But I’ve never been as smart, never as good in school. And my work isn’t like his, either. It’s easier this way. They understand that they’d probably be disappointed, but they don’t know. They can’t be sure. Maybe I’m a spy. Maybe I’m an artist. Whatever it is, they can’t measure it against Quinn’s accomplishments, because I won’t let them.”

      “Jesus, Moll. I know they’ve always been gaga over Quinn’s grades and awards, but they love you to death.”

      “Yeah, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

      “What does that mean? Just tell me, I promise not to say anything to Quinn. Tell me what you’re doing.”

      She turned and looked out the windshield. “No. If you’re going to think I’m a bad person, just go ahead.” She made a wide gesture, nearly clocking him in the face. “Look, I know I said all that stuff about Ricky Nowell, and nice girls don’t do that, but he was really horrible to me that night, and I just…” She turned a corkscrew with her left hand.

      “Ricky Nowell? I don’t…Wasn’t he your boyfriend in high school?”

      “Yes, unfortunately! So don’t go judging me!”

      “Molly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

      “I’m not doing anything wrong, that’s what I’m talking about! If you’re not gonna like me, fine! Don’t like me. You just sit over there and be cute and disapproving. And sexy. And…I don’t have to—”

      When he leaned in and kissed her, she drew a sharp, deep breath and then held it. Ben smiled against her mouth and took advantage of the quiet moment to explore the satin texture of her lips. She was just as soft as he’d fantasized, warm and yielding as he brushed his lips slowly over hers. But she didn’t taste pink; she tasted shimmery yellow.

      “Why do you taste like a Jolly Rancher?” he wondered aloud.

      “Oh.” She breathed citrus against his tongue. “Three lemon drops and an appletini.”

      Then he followed the sweetness into warmth and wet. She opened for him, pressed closer, and Ben forgot about lemons and apples. She let him explore slowly for a moment, gliding against the slickness of her mouth, but then she wanted more and so did he, and she moaned and coaxed him deeper.

      His earlier lust exploded through him, dragging him into urgency as quick and wild as the creek in spring. He felt he’d waited forever for this, through countless youthful fantasies when his hormones had nearly driven him mad. Ben grasped her hips and lifted her over all the clutter that kept them separated.

      “Oh, my God, did you just pick me up?” She wiggled against him, settling her knees on either side of his legs. “That is so sexy.”

      That surprised a laugh out of him, but it turned to a groan as she finally got her skirt hiked high enough that she could settle her ass against his lap. He curled his hands around her thighs, because what else was he supposed to do? And the black fabric was like cashmere, it clearly demanded petting…stroking, even.

      “Oh, yes, Ben,” she whispered, pressing small kisses to his jaw. “Your hands are so hot. So hot and, and so…big.”

      Jesus, was she talking dirty to him? No one had ever done that before, but he was damn sure he liked it. Ben kissed her hard and stroked up to cup her ass in his palms, and oh, what a perfect fit. All that firm, flexing muscle and, damn it, her mouth tasted like heaven.

      Her encouraging noises weren’t hurting anything, either. He pushed higher on her hips, slipping her skirt up until his fingers touched the bare skin waiting for him above her tights. Her skin was even softer than cashmere and scorching hot.

      Molly arched back, pressing her sex down, and Ben, determined to oblige, lifted her and scooted down a little in his seat. When she rocked forward, she fit perfectly against the bulge in his jeans.

      “Ah,” they said in unison.

      “Oh, Ben,” she went on, while he was still trying to reconnect with the speech center of his brain. The hollow between her legs, the plump flesh there…it all seemed perfectly designed to cover him, torture him. Her thighs strained as she shifted herself against him.

      “Oh, Ben, you feel so good.”

      Hell, yeah, he felt really good. She seemed to have everything under control as she rocked back and forth, so he let go of her hips and reached for the pink sweater instead. As he pushed the hem up, he made a mental note to remember the sight of her in that white lace bra later. Right now he just needed to get rid of it, and Molly seemed in agreement. She shrugged out of her coat, tangled her arms in the sweater and pulled up and then suddenly it was off, her hair falling around bare shoulders.

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