“Martin!” Lilly hisses, swatting her husband. It’s a little late for modesty now, Mrs. Martin.
Molly glances up at me again, and I can sense what she’s thinking without her saying anything. She heard that use ofwe. Both uses of the word.
There’s a future that’s being implied here, a commitment neither of us has acknowledged out loud. So far, we’ve both just been having fun. We’ve been treating this Christmas hookup like the holidays will never end, like the snow will somehow trap me in Little Haven eternally and we can pretend that there is no outside world to call either of us away.
My chest tightens, and my breathing picks up. Is that what I want? Is there any scenario in which I actuallywantto stay back in Little Haven?
“Well, friends, I think it’s time I go get changed. Basketball practice is coming up.” Bates glances my way, and a fresh wave of pressure washes over me.
He wants me there. He knows as well as I do that I had more fun than I expected to at the last practice.
Another surprise, courtesy of unassuming Little Haven, Georgia.
I’m supposed to have leveled up, right? All the hard work I put in back in high school, then in college, then scrapping through the pro levels to get my first coaching position. I’ve made it. All those memories of neighbors or teachers or my parents’ friends politely smiling at me when I was a kid, and I’d say I was going to be with the NBA one day, and now I really have done it.
And it doesn’t feel like I thought it would. It doesn’tfeellike I’ve built something of my own, like I’ve proven myself to be the big fish I always thought I was when I was growing up in my small town. It just feels like more work, like more scrutiny, like more… more…
It doesn’t feel like being in that small, humid high school gym. Like seeing all the potential in those boys and wondering what I could do with it. How far I could take them, and iftheycould ever make it to the NBA one day.
I’m surprised to realize the back of my neck is sweating. I’m holding Molly’s hand just a little too tight, and I flash her a sheepish look as I ease up.
“You need to get ready, too,” she tells me. “Come on, kid. We’ll throw you in the shower and send you on your way. I’ve got some paperwork to get through, anyway.”
A shower—yeah. Yeah, that sounds good right now. A little steam and heat to clear my head.
“Mr. Bates,” I hear Miss Hales start as Molly leads me to through the barn doors. “I’m sure I remember Miss Molly saying that your shower needs a new head. If you’d prefer to use mine—”
I snort, the feeling flooding back into my chest as we step through the snow back toward the inn.
“I think you need to watch Mr. Bates’s cocoa,” I whisper to Molly, pushing open the back door for her. “If given the chance, Miss Hales is going to drug him and tie him to her hotel bedMiserystyle.”
Molly just shakes her head. “Nah, it would never work. Like Martin and Lilly pointed out, the headboards are too weak for that. Trust me, you can snap them just by looking at them.”
I let the door swing shut behind us and raise an eyebrow at her. “Good God, woman, have youMisery’dsomeone in here yourself?”
She shrugs, her features giving nothing away. “Little Haven is a small town, Gray. Literally the only reason an eligible young man like yourself isn’t tied to my bed is because you came willingly.”
“Um.” I blink, trying to read her. How is someone so dainty and innocent-looking so damn convincing? I’m so sure she’s joking, but she works as hard as an ugly stripper to sell these sarcastic one-liners. “I shouldn’t be concerned you’ve branded me while I was sleeping, right?”
Molly waves me off as she takes my hand again and leads me toward her back office. “Please, I just took a chunk of your hair and called it a day. I’m getting too old to pull a full Annie Wilkes.”
“You’re disturbed.” I glance around. At some point in our conversation, Molly has gotten me out of the lobby and locked away in her office. “This conversation took a dark turn when I realized you got me alone in unfamiliar territory.”
“Shut up. It took an excellent turn.” Her dark eyes shimmer as she winks at me and steps up so we’re chest to chest. Her tiny hands run down my chest, nails grazing my nipples, then over my abs to hook on my waistband. “Youwantto be locked in a room with me.”
She leans into my neck, her teeth nipping at the soft skin there. I shiver, those nipples she just touched perking up in response to her teasing.
“You want me to be rough with you,” she murmurs, dropping to her knees. My gut tightens in anticipation. The lobby outside the door has gone quiet, whether by a new lack of guests or because every one of my senses has been tuned to Molly’s frequency. There’s a static quality to the air—something tense and buzzing between us. When she lifts the hem of my shirt and nips at my abs, I have to bite my lip to stifle my groan. “Admit it, Smith: you’d be so down for an old-fashioned whipping.”
Per usual, I can’t quite tell if she’s joking or serious. But just the lightning quick fantasy of Molly Moore outfitted in black leather and holding a crop has my cock straining against my jeans. She’s got a truly filthy mind, did even when she was a virgin. Her high school diary proved that. And now that the tiny tips of her fingers are working together to slide down my zipper and pull back the slit in my boxers, I wonder…
I pull her up from under the armpits, set her on the edge of her desk, and sweep off its contents.
“You’re in charge.”
It’s my turn to drop to my knees.
I look up at her, and for a moment Molly seems unsure. But then a wicked smile plays across her lips, and her hands find my shoulders to rest.