style="font-size:15px;"> Molly’s capacity for compassion amazed Dare. “She’s twenty-two.”
Appearing distressed, Molly shook her head. “Thank God she has you, Dare. I’m not sure anyone else could have gotten her out of there.”
Dare stepped over closer to the heavy bag. “Molly?”
She jerked her attention back to him. “Hmm?”
“How are you feeling?”
She waved that off. “I’m fine.”
Something was going on in that quick mind of hers—but what? Molly hadn’t come downstairs just to talk to him about his work or his social life. She wanted, needed, something.
For now, Dare let her keep her distance. Besides, he was sweaty as hell and still edgy with lust. He figured he could work himself into the ground, and the second he saw Molly again it wouldn’t matter one iota.
“You know,” he said to her, “you always say you’re fine, about everything.”
As if to keep from chickening out, she rushed into speech. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”
His senses prickled. “We were talking.”
“I know, but there’s something else I wanted to know.”
“Yeah?” What more could there be? She had the basics of his history. If she wanted a body count, she could forget it. He didn’t dwell on the men he’d killed, but he didn’t celebrate them, either.
Her teeth caught her bottom lip. She shifted her stance. “Last night …”
Awareness sharpening, Dare took a step closer. “Last night?”
She half turned away, then jerked around to face him again. Hands out, face scrunched, she said, “I’d sort of forgotten how bad I look.”
Objection to that snapped down his brows. The second she’d come downstairs, he’d lost his battle with lust. Every muscle in his body burned, but not from exercise; it was sexual need that made him rigid.
And she thought she looked bad enough to discourage him? Dare put his fists on his hips and stared at her hard. “Come again?”
Her expression showed torment and determination. “I know the bruises and other marks are bad enough, but it’s worse than that. I don’t wear a lot of makeup, but like most women I have my own routine, and the fact that I’ve missed it shows. On top of being worn-down, my hair is the worst ever.” Self-consciously, she shoved a hand into the unruly tresses. “I look like … like a hag.”
Dare’s jaw tightened. “Not even close.”
But it was as if she didn’t hear him. “You had kissed me … before, I mean … so I assumed that …”
A constriction started in his chest. “I already told you why I kissed you.”
She shook her head as if dumbfounded by his reaction. “I know, but all things considered, it still seems like it was just to distract me, and to … help me.” Gesturing, she added, “You’re a guy, and guys don’t always do or say things that they mean.”
She dared to group him in with the assholes she’d known? Did she compare him to that dipshit ex-fiancé of hers?
Son of a bitch.
He hadn’t figured on that; if anything, he thought he’d be too different from other men.
Fighting himself was hard enough; fighting her, too, was damn near impossible.
Staring into her eyes, Dare held her gaze. “I want you, Molly. Never doubt that.”
This time her hand went over her heart, and Dare saw a pulse beat wildly in her throat.
“I know you said you did, but—”
“Still holds true.” He took a step closer, but then stopped himself. If he touched her, he’d lose it for sure. “After last night, more than ever.”
Shoulders slumping, Molly shook her head. “I don’t understand you at all. Everything you did last night—”
“Yeah.” God, he would remember that for the rest of his life. No way would he let her deny what they’d done. “I got you off, and you liked it.”
She blinked fast in mixed embarrassment and confusion. “But then you stopped!” Her dark eyes were huge and filled with accusation. “If it’s not because I’m ugly right now, well, then, tell me why you stopped. Make me understand.”
Ugly? Jesus, is that what she thought? Here he was, doing his damndest to be noble, and she thought she wasn’t appealing enough?
Through his teeth, Dare said, “You want me to spell it out for you?”
Uncertainly, she nodded.
“Fine.” Let her deal with the truth. “If all I wanted was a fuck, trust me, Molly, you damn well would have been fucked.”
Her mouth fell open.
Dare turned, pounded the heavy bag three more times, but it didn’t help. Knuckles aching, he dropped his hands. How the hell could he make her understand what he hadn’t yet figured out for himself?
Voice strained, he said, “I like you, Molly.”
He heard her inhale.
Over his shoulder, gaze sharp and temper primed, he looked at her. “I care about you.”
“You do?”
In two long strides, he closed the distance between them. She backed up, but then bumped into the wall.
“Tonight.” Because he couldn’t stop himself, Dare flattened his hands on the wall to either side of her head. He leaned closer, loomed over her without letting his body touch hers.
“Tonight?” she whispered.
At five-seven, she was considerably shorter than him, small, delicate, vulnerable. And he was wild for her. He wanted to carry her to the ground, pin her down with his body and take his fill.
Breathing hard, Dare bent and put his mouth to hers. He didn’t touch her in any other way. He didn’t dare tempt himself that much; he couldn’t go there, not right now.
The kiss was warm and firm, and though Molly didn’t realize it yet, it was possessive as hell. A line had just been crossed, and he didn’t give a damn. She’d asked for it, so she’d get it, and then they could deal with her reaction together.
When she moaned and touched her hands to his chest, he straightened and took a quick step back. “Tonight, Molly. If you still feel the same tonight, then I’m done objecting.”
“Tonight?”
Was she having second thoughts? “Make damn sure you know what you want
