Wrong Man, Right Kiss. Red Garnier

      And it felt so good, his touch so arousing, a rush of liquid heat flooded her between her thighs.

      He groaned in misery when she went still with shock, yet he pulled her tighter against him anyway, as though her lips were powerful magnets for his. “Shh,” she heard him say, cooing to her, calming her as if she were both precious and wild. “Shh...”

      When he edged his knee between her legs to part them, the skirt of her dress rose, and he expertly eased his hand through the layers of fabric to cup her between her legs, right where she’d grown wet for him. The heat of his palm burned through her panties, and her bones seemed to disintegrate into nothing. Nothing but heat and pleasure and sensation.

      “Oh,” she gasped, body tensing as his fingers began stroking in slow, lazy circles, her head exploding in disbelief and excitement as a rush of hot lightning coursed through her.

      His touch consumed her.

      He touched her as if he owned her. As if he knew and cherished everything about her.

      She’d never known she could respond like this to another human being.

      She’d tried never to feel anything romantic for any of these Gage men—because they were her protectors and Kate said they were like their brothers and were therefore unavailable. But this one...this one wanted her and clearly didn’t give one whit about what Kate said. What anyone said. And Molly hadn’t realized she wanted him back so much until this very moment, when she was melting in his arms in a way she had never, ever imagined.

      Needy sounds bubbled up in her throat as she rocked her hips against him, helpless to stop herself, her body a puppet to masterful hands that continued expertly stroking her. The sensations were so powerful she whimpered in mingled fear and longing, her insides coiling tightly like springs.

      He groaned and bent his head to her ear, biting the lobe hungrily, desperately, those gut-wrenchingly sexy noises from his throat shooting arrows of heat to her nerve endings. His hungry mouth traveled all over her neck, leaving a wet path that sizzled as he pressed the heel of his palm seductively between her legs, rubbing and stroking exactly the parts that most ached and hurt and burned.

      And then the worst part was that, with one more expert touch, one firm press with the heel of his hand, she’d exploded.

      Molly still remembered the way she had trembled with that touch alone, and then she had wanted to cry, because she’d never had an orgasm before. Embarrassed to her core, she’d pushed him away as soon as she was able and gritted, “Don’t touch me. Don’t even talk to me! This never happened—never!”

      And she’d yanked off her stupid mask, flung it aside and left.

      The next day, Garrett had pretended that nothing happened, just as she’d told him to. And when she’d gone to talk to Julian about it, he’d been too hung over to focus and in a pissy mood. So she’d kept it to herself for over a dozen nights, her sexual siren having been awakened, now hungry for more and determined to do something about it. Once again, Molly wanted to weep in her bed in silence.

      She wished she hadn’t kissed him.

      She wished she hadn’t stopped.

      She wished she hadn’t pushed him away.

      She wished she’d had the courage to face the music, so that he would have done the same.

      But more than anything, she wished to feel again like she’d felt that night.

      Garrett had broken down and revealed his feelings for her in an unmistakable way, and though Molly had gloried in his intimate touch and his incredible kiss, she’d gotten scared in the end.

      She wished she hadn’t given out the message that she wasn’t receptive to more of his delicious kisses and touches. Because the more she thought of and relived that kiss, the more she was convinced that unique connection wasn’t typical and that she’d just found her soul mate.

      Without words, she’d been able to feel his love so powerfully that her own heart had sung inside her chest, and she ached desperately to be with him again.

      Swallowing back a lump in her throat, she pounded the pillow and shifted to lie facedown on the bed. Go to sleep, Molly, and tomorrow you can show Garrett what he’s missing.

      But rather than give her comfort, the thought only made her realize that the one person who had been missing out on the best things in life was Molly.

      * * *

      Julian knew exactly why he couldn’t sleep, why he was feeling so cranky and why everything felt like crap lately.

      It was all Molly Devaney’s fault.

      She was driving him crazy in every possible way he could imagine.

      First with the Garrett thing. And now just thinking about her sleeping next door made him toss restlessly in bed, frustrated beyond measure.

      Tonight, it had been raining outside when they loaded up her suitcases. By the time Molly had stepped into his apartment, she’d looked so...wet. God, he’d really tried not to look at the way she needed to peel her shirt back from her breasts, but he lacked the willpower.

      Lying back in his bed, he tried to cool down his roiling blood, his head swimming with the sight of her breasts, perfectly round, with those pointy nipples straining against the fabric of her top.

      And when she’d kissed him upstairs, so happy to be painting the mural for him, it had taken all his willpower not to turn his face and capture that kiss with his lips, kiss her long and hard as if he’d wanted to back in her apartment—where she’d been flushed and gasping for breath after the silly little peck he’d given her. And those cherries. Goddamn the sounds she made as she ate those miserable cherries!

      It had been a miracle Julian hadn’t lunged across the seat of his car, taken her face between his hands and suckled each and every cherry from her cool and sassy mouth.

      Hell, this is the worst idea I’ve ever had in my life.

      For years, Julian had grown up with rules that he’d tried to follow, knowing the only girl he’d ever respected and admired was out of his reach. Molly was the one woman Julian would want to be locked in a closet with. Stranded on a deserted island with. She was the only good and pure thing in his life, and despite some failed efforts, he’d tried to keep it that way. Unsullied and unsoiled, happy and protected.

      Growing up, he’d always imagined they would have each other. Molly had never liked to date, and she’d always needed Julian. Julian had kept his hands off her and on just about anyone else in his efforts to keep busy, stay focused and more importantly, stay away from Molly.

      But now—she wanted Garrett.

      A Gage.

      Julian’s stomach roiled with nausea at the reminder. God. He’d never imagined this could ever happen.

      At first, he’d thought she was pulling his leg, or trying to make him jealous. In the back of his mind, he’d always imagined that if Molly ever fell in love with one of the Gage brothers, it would be...him. Dammit, him and only him. Because she sure as hell never seemed to look at anyone else.

      Even his family had thought Molly wanted him, which was why every time he got close to Molly, all hell would break loose. His mother, Landon, Garrett, even Kate would pounce. Julian had suffered endless lectures from them all about being good to Molly, staying away from Molly, respecting Molly or finding another home. For the most part, he had been good. Really good.

      But now, years and what felt like aeons later, the fact that Molly wanted his brother was a game changer. Julian had been living in this hell long enough, and he could no longer kid himself that the magic, the pull, the impossible chemistry between Molly and him was only due to friendship. He knew full well that when she made his groin throb with her smiles, they were not friendly feelings. Much less brotherly ones.

      He’d been dreaming about her for years. Powerful dreams. Sexual dreams. Dreams that