No Bunny But You (Holiday Romance Series) (13 page)

“It’s what you did before,” Aaron pointed out. “Kind
of a natural progression, if you ask me. Did you tell Molly?”

He hadn’t told his friends about the kisses that led
up to his wild garden sex with Molly. It somehow felt too
private.

“No. It was a spur of the moment thing.”

“She’s taken herself out of the blog info business
anyway,” Levi pointed out. “Ironic that you got nominated for the
Bloggie just when she’d pulled out and insisted on you doing it
yourself.”

“Yes.” Molly kept insisting she’d done it for him and
Drake could see her point, but he still felt lost without her help.
He didn’t give a crap about home repair.

“When will you hear about the other job?” Levi
reached for the bowl of chips.

“I don’t know,” Drake said. “It was really a shot in
the dark. Kind of a whim thing. I’ll probably be stuck doing this
home improvement thing forever.”

“Yeah,” Aaron said sympathetically. “And winning
awards for it.”

* * *

“I thought we were going out for dinner.” Molly
perched on the edge of Drake’s red microsuede couch later that
afternoon, excited and nervous about seeing him again.

Slouching in from his kitchen, he smiled lazily at
her. “I thought we could hang out here. You know, shoot the breeze.
Talk about your Easter Picnic stuff. I ordered a pizza.”

Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, he dropped next to
her on the couch. “Tell me how it’s going.”

The doorbell rang then and he went to answer it,
coming back with a large, flat pizza box. “Dinner. Extra cheese and
no anchovies. Just like you like it.”

“Thanks.” While she opened the box—steam rising from
the warm pizza—Drake got paper plates and napkins from his small
kitchen. “What do you think about me having a parade at the picnic?
You know, older high school girls dressed up like butterflies,
leading the children in a parade through the garden?”

“That could be fun.” He came back to sit down next to
her again.

“The kids usually wear pretty dresses and suits. I’ve
arranged to have a face-painting station in the gazebo, along with
an Easter Basket station, for those who come without one, and of
course we’ll have the Easter egg hunt.”

Drake grinned at her. “How are the bunny auditions
going? You know the guy who stepped in for you last time is
not
available.”

She lifted a slice out of the box onto a plate. “I
know, I know and I’ve met with several applicants. None are right,
yet, but I’m still hopeful.”

Taking a bite of her slice, she smiled at him.

“Well, keep looking,” he recommended. “You’re bound
to find someone. It’s not like this is brain surgery.”

Acutely aware of his leg pressing against hers, Molly
agreed. She felt hot and itchy whenever they were alone together
and they were talking about bunnies, for heaven’s sake!

“So everything is on track for the picnic, except the
bunny?”

“Yes, I’ve arranged the rentals and the balloon
person. The caterer will have finger foods that the kids like, plus
some more mature options for the adults. We’ll have a coconut,
bunny-shaped cake—that’s obligatory, isn’t it? And little fancy
cupcakes, frosted with bunnies and decorated eggs.”

Drake reached for his glass. “Sounds like you’ve got
it covered.”

She tried to refocus, dragging her attention away
from his nearness. “I’ll bet. Mike must be thrilled about your
Bloggie nomination. Is he still bragging to everyone?”

“Mmm. Sure. It isn’t real to me yet, but he’s loving
it. Here.” Drake reached out to blot her cheek with his napkin.
“Cheese juice.”

He wiped it gently over her cheek. Pausing with the
napkin still in his hand, their gazes locked for a long moment.

Before she knew it, he’d sat his plate down on the
coffee table and leaned forward, pressing his mouth to hers, hot
and sweet.

Molly fell into the heat of him.

Only days before, they had kissed and stroked and
done the things she’d been fantasizing about for the last year. She
seemed to have developed an addiction to him—that tryst in the
garden had only brought her dreams to life—and it seemed so long
ago. She’d been thinking too often of when they might make love
again.

What started out as a simple kiss, turned hot and
hungry in the space of a second. His mouth gentle on hers, at
first, turned demanding and hungry while she felt his body
straining against hers.

The pizza lie forgotten on the table as she kissed
him for all she was worth. His kiss was the drug she craved and she
just caved in. He smelled like clean man—healthy and heady. And his
mouth moving on hers made her lose her mind.

In a gesture so sweet as to break her heart, he
brought his hand to her cheek while he kissed her, cradling and
gently holding her there.

Molly’s heart flipped-flopped in her chest. She’d
known him all of her adult life and she’d grown steadily more in
love with him in the last year. This was what she wanted, what
she’d longed for.

They slid back on the suede couch until they were
horizontal, still kissing. Clinging to the breadth of his wide
shoulders, Molly met him kiss for kiss. There was no fighting it
anymore. This was the man she loved—had loved all these months—and
kissing him, making love with him, had filled her dreams. Above
her, he groaned as she touched him, pulling him to her, pressing
tight to his body, his torso against hers as they strained together
as if they could somehow merge.

Like a sudden fire bursting into life, hunger and
need filled the space around them. She felt his thigh sliding
between hers, riding against the ache there. And he kissed her, his
tongue against hers, breath mingling until she was filled with an
urgent need. She wanted to touch him everywhere and wanted him to
touch her all over.

Slipping out from under Drake, she knelt beside the
couch, pulling her shirt over her head. With only her jeans and a
bra on, she reached for him. He pulled her under him again and
began pressing hot kisses across her bare chest above her bra. With
one hand, he fumbled at the bra’s catch at her back and the other
hand cupped her, kneading her breast urgently.

“Your shirt,” she gasped out, pulling at the
jersey.

Drake straightened, yanking the garment over his head
before swiftly returning to his task. She stroked her palm over the
hot silk of his chest, his arms. Feeling his erection pressing
against her through his jeans. He was glorious and she stroked her
palms up his muscled biceps and across his powerful back.

He was such a beautiful man. She’d wanted to do this,
to touch him in a way
friends
didn’t.

Finally, he got the bra clasp undone and she felt the
straps loosen as he yanked it off her. He bent to her breasts,
putting his mouth to one and then the other. Both wore only their
jeans, bare from the waist up and she ran her hands over him while
he buried his face in her breasts. He held her, turning from one to
the other, kissing and suckling a path of heat over her skin.

Grasping at the jeans snap at his waist, she yanked
at it, popping his waist band open and, while he still nuzzled at
her, she plunged her hand down the front of his pants. Drake
groaned as she slid beneath his underpants and grasped him in her
hand. She felt on fire with him—his smell all around her, the fire
of his touch on her skin. Still cradling her against him, he thrust
a little into her hand.

“Oh, God. You feel…so good,” he groaned. “I want
you…so bad.”

Pulling her hand out of his jeans, Drake brought it
to his mouth and kissed her there. “Sweetie, I want to be inside
you, but we have a ways to go. If you touch me like that, I’ll go
off like a teenager.”

Her chest rising and falling with every gasping
breath, she watched him stand up by the couch and let him pull her
to her feet. Bending briefly to suckle at her nipples, he popped
open her jeans snap and crouched next to her, pulling them down.
When he’d tugged them over her hips, he stopped, pressing a hot
kiss to her tiny underwear.

“So sexy,” Drake mumbled, still pulling her jeans
down her legs. He kissed the curve of her hip, his hand on her
backside as he pressed his lips there.

Before he could strip off the wisp of her underwear
down her legs, she started tugging at his jeans, wanting him bare
against her. She straightened to again run her hands over his chest
and press kisses against his mouth.

He drew her into his arms, kissing her back, hot and
deep before he dropped his hand to her mound, rubbing gently as his
mouth took hers again and again. She writhed against him, drawing
him closer to her, her hands on his backside. From their previous
interlude, she remembered the tightness of his muscled rear and the
power of his thighs and she clutched him through his briefs.

“Here,” he said after a moment. “You sit.”

Pushing her down so she sat on the coffee table,
Drake spread her legs wide and positioned himself in front of her.
He lifted each breast, kissing the tips until she whimpered. While
his mouth was busy drawing her nipples in, he stroked the soft skin
at her apex.

When she cried out, he pulled his shorts down,
grabbed a condom and quickly sheathed himself before burying
hilt-deep inside her. With her hips held in his grasp, he pulled
her to sit at the edge of the table.

At the feel of him pushing inside, she cried out
again, arching back as pleasure splintered through her. Drake drove
in again and again, his arm braced around her waist. He pumped into
her and she lost touch with anything but him, feeling herself
tightening around him.

When he paused, bending to suckled at her breasts
again, she murmured a protest. His breath was hot against her skin
when he sat back on the couch, pulling her onto his lap.

“Here,” he said, his voice deep and guttural. “Yeah,
right…there.”

Feeling herself filled again with him, Molly began
rocking, thrusting herself against the hard man inside and all
around her. Caught up in her own sensation, she felt his body
stiffen under her, thickening inside until she pulled at him,
mewing and crying out with her pleasure.

Drake held her hips in his iron grip, pulling her
against him over and over until he jerked and his head fell against
her shoulder as his panting breath filled her ears. They sat like
that for several long moments. She felt her heart pounding in her
ears and she sheltered against him as they clung together.

Gradually, her speeding heart settled down and Drake
sat back against the couch, smiling lazily up at her.

“Damn you’re good, honey.” He heaved a few more
breaths.

“That was freakin’ great.” Shifting back, he settled
her bare bottom more comfortably against his legs. “Geez. It’ll
take me a while to recover, but I’d sure as hell like to do that
again.”

Straddling him, Molly looked into his face and tried
to catch her breath. She’d like to do it again, too—for the next
fifty years, but her brain was kicking in and she couldn’t help
wondering what the heck she was doing.

“Hey, do you want a drink? I could sure use one.”
Drake grinned at her again. “You are amazing. Did I say that
before? I mean…amazing. It’s no wonder I need hydration.”

A sinking feeling settled in her gut as he slid her
off his lap and went into the kitchen, without waiting for her to
reply.

She sat naked on the couch and suddenly remembered
everything she’d ever read about, discussed or recommended for
other friends—if no relationship was agreed on, sex was just
sex.

And even if it was really, really good sex, this was
only part of what she wanted with Drake.

The pizza lie still at the end of the coffee
table—pushed aside in their frenzy—and her gaze rested on it while
she grappled with where this was headed.

“Hey,” Drake called, still clinking around in the
kitchen. “Wouldn’t it be crazy if the Women’s League knew you were
this hot, sexy babe?”

Still naked, he rounded the corner, carrying two
bottles of water. “But I really, really like this side of you. I
mean—really, really like it.”

Watching him sit down next to her, Molly knew she
needed to say something—anything, really. She and Drake had been
friends for too long for her to suddenly turn into one of those sex
girls.

“Drake?”

Having unscrewed the top, he handed her a bottle of
water. “Here, babe. Let’s get hydrated for the next round. Maybe
have some carbs or something, because in a few minutes
I—am—going—to—wear—you—out.”

Molly sat the opened bottle of water on the coffee
table. “Drake, what is this?”

“What do you mean?” He took a swig from his bottle.
“It’s water. Did you want something else? A beer, maybe?”

“No.” She shook her head, trying again, “
This.
The sex we’re having. What…does it mean?”

He frowned at her. “I don’t know what you’re
asking.”

“Okay.” Getting up from the couch, she went around
the coffee table, turning to look at him. “I’ve known you a long
time. We’ve been friends since we met in high school. We help each
other out. We hang out together.”

“Well, there was that dating interlude in high
school,” he commented. “We didn’t get to be friends until after you
dumped me for the quarterback.”

Drake smiled at her, saying as she rolled her eyes.
“But of course, I’ve forgiven you for that.”

“Thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from the word. “I hoped our
friendship since that time has earned your forgiveness about that.
As I was saying—we’ve been friends a long time.”

He raised his water bottle in a salute of
agreement.

“Right. Friends for a long time. But I tell you
what—“ Drake shook his head. “I remembered how sweet your boobs
felt back then, but little did I know that was only the tip of the
iceberg, so to speak. Girl, you burn so hot, I could barely keep up
with you. You are freakin’ amazing. I want to do you again.
Soon.”