Hunter makes a show of sighing and slinking off toward the exit. “I take time off work and you’re sucking the fun out of it, Molly Ann.”
“That’s what sisters are for,” she shoots back, still looking at me instead of her brother. The door shuts behind him, and we’re left alone. My stomach knots as she steps toward me, crossing her arms.
“Something is going on,” she says matter-of-factly. “Spill your guts.”
“Nothing is going on.”
She alreadyknowswhat’s going on. Rehashing the harsh realities of our situation would be a waste for both of us; we knew the day was coming that I’d be invited back to the Liberty, and we’d have to wrap up whatever has been going on between us. Walking through the details now will only lead to tension, to hard feelings, maybe even to an outright fight. And is that what I want from my last few days in Little Haven? Do I really want to break this already tenuous spell between us? Can’t I just have this fucking dream and let it remain beautiful and intact until I wake up in bed in my cold New York City apartment and it’s like Little Haven was never real at all?
Molly is crossing over to me again, hands back at both my elbows. Her dark eyes are wide and discerning as she takes me in. Too discerning.
I hate how much I want to reach out and touch her face. I want to run my thumb down over that plump bottom lip, slip it between her teeth and let her tongue taste it. My cock stiffens in my jeans, reminding me of everything so close but also so far away.
“It’s finally happened, hasn’t it? The Liberty wants you back.”
I blink. “How the hell do you do that?”
“ESP,” she says seriously. “Or maybe I just hacked into your iCloud and I’ve been sorting through messages from your head coach. You have alotof nude selfies on your phone, by the way. Like, a Narcissus amount.”
I manage a smile at that, some small amount of relief flooding my chest at Molly’s typical dry humor. I settle into her touch, letting her wrap her arms around my neck as I sling mine around her lower back. She rests the top of her head on my chest, just under my chin. I wonder if she can hear my heart beating this way.
“It was just a guess,” she explains. “You hadn’t talked about the team in a while and I assumed it was probably… time. Was I right?”
She leans back, still holding me close as she searches my eyes. The skin at the back of my neck heats.
“Molly, I—”
She just shakes her head and takes my chin in one tiny hand. It’s a commanding touch, and I’m reminded of our afternoon in her office, where she coached me through exactly what she wanted from me. My dick strains against my zipper again, betraying any good sense I’ve been mulling over.
“You’ve got time, right? I mean, I’m not asking you to quit or something. I’m not…” Her voice fades off, and she shifts against me to look at her feet. I get the sense that if I could see her face, those freckled cheeks would bloom pink right now.
“I don’t know what I’m asking,” she whispers. “And I don’t know what I expected.”
Fuck, that kills me. It’s not tension that ripples across my shoulders this time, it’s a deep ache. It extends out to every part of my body, and I find myself pushing Molly back away from me and holding her by the shoulders to get a good look at her.
“I know the odds. I’m always aware of the odds in everything I do.” Her voice is low. I have to strain to make out her mumbled words. “I’m just like you, right? You saw the NBA, and you reached for it even though you came from this tiny town. I got a crumbling old inn with no money in it, and I threw this ridiculous party to stave off buyers. And now we have this relationship, and everything it can be going forward.”
Her breath catches, and my own breath halts in response, like it would be inappropriate to let any small noise interrupt this delicate moment.
“Odds say that you’ll move back to New York and I’ll stay here and even if we tried to do something long distance, it would be tricky. And all this isn’t even to mention the fact that we’d have to admit our feelings to my brother, and navigate how to reconnect in the future…” She meets my eye again, and every part of me vibrates under her gaze. “But we’re fighters, you and me. We always wanted to build something that was our own. We make it happen, despite the odds.”
There’s a buzz in my pocket, and I’m all too aware of the message I’ve been replaying over and over in the back of my head all morning.
“Molly, I—”
“Choose me,” she says. “Choose to fight for me. Fuck the odds.”
A strange, dry laugh escapes my lips, and I pull her closer despite my better instincts. Molly is chest to chest with me now, and I can smell the notes of sweet peppermint mocha on her breath.
“I’ll coach you through it, big guy,” she whispers, her face closing in on mine.
“Molly…”
Her lips are already meeting mine. Molly’s kiss is tender and slow, nothing like the rushed, passionate embraces we’ve shared so far. There’s so much more behind this moment, something so much more desperate and needy and ardent.
When my hands find the hem of her shirt and I push her back toward her office, it’s not a race against time. I need to milk this moment, need to feel it fully before I abandon it for cold logic and reasoning. My tongue slips past her lips, wild for her taste. Her fingers find mine as I work, guiding my hand up under her sweater and then past the wire of her bra.
Her breast is small and firm in my hand, the nipple a hard, pebbled point that draws out further under my thumb’s touch. I groan against her mouth, the worry of how I might stop myself from taking her fully only just now hitting me.