When it didn’t, she said, “Did you have a good flight back?” unable to immediately ask the question that might end them here and now.
“Smooth and quick. Stroke of luck that James was in the country and heading back to New Zealand—his jet is a beauty.” She heard the ping as the elevator arrived at its floor. “Not as fast as I would’ve liked though.”
Her insides twisted at the warmth in his tone and she knew he was talking about her, about getting back to her. Before she could respond, there was a quiet knock on her door. Heart slamming into her ribs, she rose shakily to her feet. “Fox, is that you?”
“Unless you have other strange men who stalk you.”
Phone abandoned, she ran to the door and opened it to jump into his arms. He held her tight, walking in far enough that he could shut the door behind himself. “You did miss me,” he murmured against the side of her face.
It was music, his voice, edgy and dark, and it infiltrated her bloodstream, made her want to forget the world. Except she couldn’t. Not today. Not until she knew. Because she couldn’t ever look the other way.
Taut muscles relaxing at the unmistakable warmth of Molly’s welcome, a welcome that made him feel he was home, erasing his worries that the distance might make her question what was happening between them, Fox went to kiss her but she pushed away, disengaging from him. Instincts on immediate alert, he slid off the small pack that held his clothes without looking away from her. “You missed me, but you don’t want to kiss me?”
“I have to ask you something.” Breaking the eye contact, she played with the bottom of the T-shirt she wore over flannel pajama pants. “It has a high possibility of making you angry.”
Closing the distance between them, he backed her against the wall, bracing his hands on either side of her head. “You telling me we’re about to have a fight?”
“Yes.”
He could deal with a fight. What he couldn’t deal with was Molly pulling away from him. “Ask.”
“Wait,” she whispered and, ducking under his arm, walked into the living room to grab her phone.
Following, he forced himself to leash his impatience as she pulled up something, the moonlight that seeped in through the partially closed blinds bathing them both in shadows.
“Here.”
Fox swore the instant he understood what it was he was seeing. Setting the phone down on the coffee table, he dragged her into his arms. “Why didn’t you call me?” He hated the fact that she’d been so badly hurt, wanted to eviscerate those responsible.
Burying her face in his chest, she fisted her hands against the leather of his jacket. “It was like getting beaten from the inside out.” The confession scraped over his senses. “I lost my breath, couldn’t think. I just kind of went numb.”
Fox tightened his hold, his voice harsh as he fought to temper the fury in his blood. “That girl asked me for a photo—her friend’s the one who took it. I don’t know who she is, except that I bet you she’s the f**king ‘source.’” He paused. “Wait.” Pulling out his own phone, he made a call while keeping her locked to him with his other arm; Molly needed to be held tonight.
“Noah,” he said when the call was answered, the guitarist wide-awake despite the late hour. “Talk to Molly.” He thrust the phone into her hand. “Ask him.”
“No.” She tried to give the phone back. “This is between us—”
“I don’t want you to have any doubts, Molly. You ask him.” He wasn’t angry at her—she’d come to him instead of shutting him out, and that meant everything. But he refused to allow any room for even the tiniest worry, would not permit the users and the liars of the world to poison their relationship. “Go on, baby.” When she continued to hesitate, he pressed his forehead to hers, his hand clasping the side of her neck. “For me.”
It slayed him when she patted his chest and accepted the phone at last. “Noah?” A slight pause. “Can you look up a website on your phone?” She read out the web address of the article and went silent.
A second later Fox heard Noah swear with vicious ferocity before his bandmate lowered the volume on his voice. Fox knew the other man was telling Molly the truth. That Fox had been by his side the entire night. Noah had bad nights and good nights, and last night had been a bad one. So Fox had made sure he wasn’t alone.
“Thank you,” Molly said to the guitarist and returned the phone to Fox.
Taking it, he said, “Go to sleep, Noah.” The phone thrust into a pocket, he slid his hand around to grip Molly’s nape, bending his knees so they were eye to eye. “We okay?”
The shocked hurt that killed him was gone from her expression, but her jaw was now a hard line, her body stiff. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt in that shot?” she snapped, her hand closing over his wrist.
“Because when Abe uncorked the champagne, he sprayed David and me.” It came out a growl. “Honestly, I didn’t think anything of it. I’m shirtless onstage all the time.”
“Well you should have!” she ordered, color on her cheekbones. “You should’ve thought of—”
Oh no, Fox thought when she bit herself off, Molly didn’t get to stop there. Not when she’d come so damn close to claiming him. “I should’ve thought of what?” Having risen to his full height, he tugged back her head with a hand in her hair when she would’ve lowered her eyes.