Finally a Bride (12 page)

“True,” he agreed, rubbing a hand over his face. “At least here no one can see me but you.”

Moments later, when he stepped out of his bedroom, she was glad she had him all to herself. The black tux stretched his shoulders wider, made his body seem leaner and even more muscular beneath the pleated shirt and black pants. His face—so distinguished and handsome. 007 had nothing on Eric South.

“The candles were a good idea,” he said. “The light’s too low for me to scare you.”

“You still scare me,” she said, her heart beating a crazy rhythm. What she felt for him scared the
hell
out of her, just as it always had. She reached out and stroked her fingers over his cheek, over his scar. “But
this
has never scared me.”

His mouth lifted in a half grin. “C’mon. I remember when I first came back. The first time you saw me looking like this, you freaked out.”

“Yes, I did,” she admitted, closing her eyes as the horror she had felt that day crashed through her again. “All I could think about was how close I had come to losing you.”

Despite her emotional admission, Eric’s grin widened. “I thought of you when the bomb went off.”

Her breath hitched. “You thought of
me
then?”

“I thought…Damn it.” He snapped his fingers. “Molly was right.”

“That you wouldn’t come back?”

His grin faded. “That wasn’t an option. I couldn’t have you thinking
I told you so
for the rest of eternity.”

“You couldn’t not come back to
me,
” she said. “You’d promised.”

He nodded. “And I couldn’t break my promise to you.”

“I broke my promise to you,” she reminded him.

“What promise?”

“The one in second grade—to marry you.”

Eric laughed. “I told you before. I can’t hold you to a promise you made in second grade.”

Can’t or don’t want to?
She didn’t have the guts to ask the question that was burning in her mind. But it didn’t really matter. She had already decided she didn’t want to get married. To anyone. And most especially not Eric. He was the one man with whom she was truly vulnerable.

“Marriage is out,” she agreed. “But how about a dance?”

He glanced around, at the balloons and streamers that her mom had provided along with the old dress. “Where’s the dance floor?” he asked.

“I was going to move the furniture…”

“But there wasn’t any room to put it,” he surmised.

“No, we don’t need any room,” she said. “Remember high school slow dances. Just hold on and sway.”

Eric drew in a deep breath and extended his hand to her. When Molly put her hand in his, he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “You’re not wearing his ring.”

“I’m not his.” Her throat moved as she swallowed, then gazed into his eyes. “Tonight, I’m yours.”

Eric tensed, unable to accept what she claimed. Then he met her stare, and she pulled him into the fathomless depths of her eyes. She tugged her hand free of his. But before he could wonder if she had changed her mind, she lifted both hands to his shoulders, stepped closer and pressed her body against his.

“Molly…”

“Tonight I’m yours, Eric.”

Just for tonight she was his. But he had always been hers. Tomorrow would she go back to Towers? He had to share with her what he’d learned at Kelly Confections—that she might be losing her fiancé to Brenna.

“Molly, I need to tell you something….” Before selfishness prevailed and he kept the warning to himself.

“Just dance, Eric.”

“There’s no room to dance,” he reminded her.

Her hand moved from his shoulders to the nape of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. “Then just hold me.”

“I can do that….”

He lifted his hands, sliding them down her back. Then he grasped her hips to pull her closer yet. Her dress rustled as the satin rubbed against his tux, not a breath separating her body from his.

A song streamed out of the speakers, the air vibrating with a low, sexy beat. Eric didn’t move his feet—he just held Molly and swayed.

Her soft chocolate-colored curls brushed his chin. Wearing heels, her head barely reached his neck. Her lips brushed his throat as she murmured, “See, this isn’t hard.”

Every muscle in his body was tense, aching with desire for her, and he could only groan.

Molly shifted, rubbing against his erection. “Oh, I guess something is,” she teased with a giggle as girlish as if they were still in high school.

“This is a bad idea,” he murmured, confirming something he’d realized the moment he’d opened his door to candlelight and balloons.

Molly’s lips brushed his throat again as she asked, “Why is it a bad idea?”

“Because I can’t
just
dance with you….”

Molly pulled away until Eric’s arms fell back to his sides. Then she caught his hand, linking their fingers, and tugged him toward his bedroom. “Then let’s not
just
dance.”

“Molly? Are you sure about this?” While she wasn’t wearing it, she still must have Towers’s ring. She hadn’t had a chance to give it back.

In the doorway to his bedroom she paused, then turned her head—meeting his gaze over her shoulder and the open-book tattoo. “Yes, I’m sure.”

He swallowed hard, but he couldn’t choke down the words. He had to say them. “But you’re still engaged.”

“Not tonight, not to Josh.”

“But—”

She reached up, pressing her fingers across his lips. “I’ve never made love with Josh.”

Stunned, he pulled her hand away from his mouth and double-checked, “Never?”

“I’ve only ever made love with you, Eric.”

Hope and pride swelled in his chest. He had been her
only
lover? “Molly—”

“I know we’re not supposed to talk about that night,” she said, “that we both promised to keep it secret. But it happened.”

“I didn’t talk about it, but I thought about it—so many times throughout the years. Thinking about it kept me alive over there.”

“Oh, Eric…”

While he had so many questions for her, right now he didn’t want to talk about anything. He wanted to see if the passion between them had been real all those years ago, or if it was just a dream.

Molly’s breath caught as Eric dipped his head and kissed her—just a gentle brush of lips against lips. She closed her eyes, tears burning behind her lids at the pure beauty of just a simple kiss.

But she wanted more than kisses—so much more. She lifted her hands between them, sliding them up the pleats of his tuxedo shirt. Muscles rippled beneath her palms. She tugged the shirt free of his pants and undid the studs holding it together. His mouth still pressed to hers, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between her lips.

Molly moaned at the bold invasion. Then finally he touched her. His hands cupped her face, then slid into her hair to tangle the curls she had spent all afternoon taming. But she didn’t care; she didn’t care about anything but getting closer to Eric.

She pushed his tuxedo jacket and then his shirt from his broad shoulders. He stepped back, pulling his mouth and his hands from her. After undoing the studs in his cuffs, he dropped the garments to the bedroom floor and stood before her, bare to the waist, but for the thin scars that marred the perfection of his muscular chest and broad shoulders.

She expelled a shaky sigh. “You’re so damn good looking.” Even with the faint marks on his body…

Unwilling—as always—to accept her compliment, he shook his head. Then his gaze moved over her. And light burned within the depths of his gray eyes. “You’re the one who’s perfect. Just perfect.”

“This is perfect,” she said. “You and I…”

That was why there had been no one else. No one else had been Eric.

He touched her again, stroking his thumb along the line of her jaw down her throat to where her pulse pounded, frantic with anticipation and excitement. “You’re real,” he mused as if he’d thought he was dreaming.

She rose on tiptoe, closing the distance between them so that her lips brushed over his. Once. Twice. “I’m real….”

“I have to see…you…all of you.” His fingers skimmed her throat, down her bare shoulders—making her skin tingle in the wake of his touch. He reached around her back, fumbling for the zipper tab on her dress.

Molly sucked in a breath, as she’d had to when she raised the zipper herself. And she hadn’t been able to clasp the hook. Eight years was a long time. As he dragged down the tab, he skimmed a fingertip along her spine.

She shivered at the sensations racing through her and stepped closer to him. But he moved back.

With the zipper undone, her dress slipped from her body to pool around her feet. She stood before him in only a pair of lace panties.

He groaned. “You’re too beautiful to be real.”

She smiled in acceptance of his heartfelt compliment. “Eric, touch me again, like you touched me that night….”

His mouth lifted once more in that crooked grin. “That night I was a bumbling kid.”

And tonight he was a man—all man. Molly’s hands slid down his muscular chest, over his washboard abs to his erection. She winced as she remembered that first time—the pain, the stretching.

“It won’t hurt tonight,” he promised her.

“It only hurt for a little while,” she assured him. Then he had made her feel better. So much better…

He reached for her, but again he touched only her face, his fingers grazing her cheek. And he leaned forward, brushing his mouth across hers. Only their lips touched.

Molly moved closer, stretching her arms around his back, pressing her naked breasts to his chest. He groaned in her mouth and deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue between her lips. Her legs weakened, and she trembled against him.

Finally his arms closed around her, lifting her. He carried her to the bed and laid her across the chenille spread. “Molly, are you sure?” he asked, his eyes hot as he stared down.

She nodded and arched her back. “Touch me, Eric.”

He dropped to his knees, then leaned across her, his lips moving from her shoulder over the slope of her breast before closing around a nipple. With his gentle tug, heat streaked through her body to pool between her legs. She shifted restlessly on the covers.

His left hand moved over her as his lips had—from her shoulder, over her other breast, and his thumb and forefinger closed around that nipple, tugging gently, as he did with his mouth.

She arched her back, biting her lip to hold in a moan of pleasure and frustration. Still it wasn’t enough.

His right hand skimmed her side down to her hip. Her stomach clenched as his knuckles brushed across her tummy and he eased his hand inside her panties. His fingers pushed through the curls between her legs, and then found their way inside her.

While his fingers moved in and out, his thumb pressed against her. And his tongue teased her nipple. Tension built inside her, increasing the pressure until it exploded in a flash of heat and sweet release.

She turned her head, tears streaking from her eyes to fall on his pillow. “Eric…”

“I have to have you now,” he said, his voice so hoarse she barely recognized it despite having known him for nearly twenty years.

He stood up, his hand shaking as he unclasped his pants and lowered the zipper. He pushed down his pants and briefs and stood naked before her, his long, hard erection straining toward her. He paused only to pull open the nightstand drawer and grab protection. Then he joined her on the bed, his body covering hers—skin, hot and sensitive, rubbing against skin.

“I can’t wait,” he said as he tore the lace at her hip and pulled off her panties.

Molly couldn’t wait, either. She spread her legs and lifted them to wrap tight around his hips. He moved, his erection nudging against her. His gaze intense, he stared into her eyes as he joined them.

Molly bit her lip. It had been so long. But she stretched, then shifted her hips and took him deeper.

He leaned over, brushing his mouth, his tongue, across the lip she’d bitten. “Molly…”

She clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into taut muscle as he moved, with gentle thrusts, in and out of her. She slid her hands from his shoulders down his back, lower, pulling him closer as she arched and lifted, wanting more of the pleasure he’d given her.

The pressure built again, her body taut and hungry, wanting more. She moaned and shifted, moving beneath him, moving with him until her body tensed, exploding with an orgasm even more powerful than the first. “Eric!”

He moved faster, thrusting harder, pulling her closer until his body stilled and he shouted his release. “Oh, my…” he said, shuddering as he collapsed onto the bed beside her. “Oh, Molly…”

She snuggled against his side, his chest heaving as he panted for breath. “We’re going to do that again,” she warned him. And she wouldn’t wait another eight years to admit what she had known for so long. She loved him.

E
RIC AWAKENED
but kept his eyes closed as he listened for the noise that had brought him out of a deep sleep. But nothing louder than the chirp of birds outside his window drew his attention. So he opened his eyes—to her face.

Molly lay next to him, propped on her elbow, her gaze skimming over him like a caress. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” So it hadn’t been a dream, last night, the prom, the…

The sheet slipped from her shoulder, baring the sweet, generous curves of breasts, as the cotton fell to her waist. “It’s a hell of a good morning,” he murmured, reaching for her.

Molly settled against his chest with a sigh, then arched as Eric ran his hands up and down her back. Her breasts pushed against him, the nipples hard points begging for his attention. First he kissed her throat, then her shoulders. After that, he rolled them, so she was on the bottom and he on top, leaning over her. As his lips closed around her nipple, her breath shuddered out. “Eric…”

His body throbbed, demanding that he take her quickly—not like last night, when he had spent hours loving her. He reached into the nightstand, but Molly pulled the foil packet from his hand and tore it open herself.

She pushed against his shoulders, shoving him onto his back. Her soft hair brushed his chest as she leaned over him, sheathing him. Straddling his hips, she rose up to take his erection deep inside her. Clutching his shoulders, she moved—back and forth, up and down, her disjointed rhythm driving him out of his mind.

A groan tore from his throat as he fought the building tension inside his body, trying to wait until she came. He cupped her full breasts, stroking his thumbs back and forth over her hardened nipples. She arched her back, tensed and shuddered, her body trembling as her orgasm poured over him. He rose, driving in and out of her heat until he joined her in oblivion, shouting her name.

Molly dropped onto his chest, her head against his madly pounding heart. A while later, after they’d caught their breath, her fingers stroked his cheek, gently caressing his scar. “I can’t believe some woman dumped you over this….”

Not wanting and not deserving her pity, he tensed. “So you heard that?”

“Yeah, Mr. Schipper…Wallace,” she corrected herself, “spoke the truth. She wasn’t the right woman.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he agreed. He held the right woman in his arms. But he would eventually have to let her go. Again.

“She was a fool, to not be able to see beyond a scar.” She pressed her lips against his cheek. “Especially since it would be so easy to repair—”

Eric rolled her off him, anger adding to his tension. He should have known she’d want to “fix” him. He jerked back the tangled sheets and headed to the bathroom, but she followed him, leaning against the jamb of the open door. His gaze met hers in the mirror. “Molly…”

“Josh is a plastic surgeon, you know.”

“Yes, I know, he’s one of the doctors who ‘makes folks pretty.’” He sarcastically quoted Mr. Carpenter.

She laughed at his bad impersonation. “He’s more than that. He’s brilliant, really. The best in his field.”

Eric was at the hospital so much that he knew Towers’s reputation—and he knew that it was well earned. He ignored her as he finished in the bathroom and passed her in the doorway, skin brushing skin. His body tensed in reaction, unable and unwilling to ignore her.

“He doesn’t do many elective procedures,” Molly explained as she followed Eric back to the bed they’d shared. “He helps burn and accident victims…”

“This was no accident,” Eric said, rubbing his knuckles over his scar. “The explosion was intentional. It was meant to kill me.”

“But it didn’t. You shouldn’t have to carry the scars with you the rest of your life.”

“But I’m going to—whether I get my face fixed or not,” he pointed out.