Men Of Honour. Lori Foster

good.”

      “Not just fine?”

      God, was he teasing her? Like a patient predator waiting to pounce, he kept his distance by the door.

      Molly licked her bottom lip. “I …” She looked around at her still messy apartment, knowing it didn’t matter. Everything else could wait. But she couldn’t.

      She turned back to Dare’s probing gaze. After a deep breath, she said, “If you want the truth, I’m eaten up with wanting you.”

      He straightened his posture against the door. His shoulders flexed.

      Voice rough and raw, he asked, “Are you sure, Molly?” And then, more harshly, “Tell me you’re sure.”

      Seeing him like this, recognizing the lust, affected her, and she couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, she opened her arms to him.

      A low curse, barely audible, left him. In the next instant he had his powerful arms around her. He pulled her up against his body, kissing her hard enough, hungrily enough, to tip her head back.

      And Molly loved it.

      DARE WAS NOT A MAN to lose control, but the things she made him feel … He wasn’t used to being jealous, but, damn, he had been. Red-hot and enraged with jealousy, and for no other reason than that Molly had once cared for Adrian. Dare thought about taking the fool apart, and he would have, except that it hardly seemed fair. Her ex was pathetic.

      What the hell had she ever seen in him?

      And then seeing her so strong, so proud … It had damn near put him over the edge. Never before had he thought about the perfect female counterpart to him, but now he knew: Molly defined that woman.

      He struggled to get it together, but she didn’t help much. The taste of her, the way her fingertips dug into his shoulders with insistence, and how she lifted into him, pressing into his erection, made rational thought a far-fetched thing.

      But he knew what she’d been through, the marks that she still carried and the memories that continued to haunt her. Never would he add to that. He’d sooner die.

      “Molly.” Dare opened his mouth on her throat, sucked on her soft, fragrant skin and lowered one hand to her ass. He loved the feel of that firm, plump flesh, kneading her, stroking. “We should slow down,” he said against her throat, “I should slow down.”

      “No. Please don’t.” She grabbed his face and brought his mouth back to hers. “No more waiting, Dare.”

      “No.” Hell, he couldn’t wait. The need to consume her pushed him.

      But he had to know.

      Holding her shoulders, he put enough space between them to talk. “The bedroom is okay?”

      She nodded, but then paused and asked, “What do you mean?”

      “No …” Fuck, he hated this. “Your asshole boyfriend was here, and we both know he intended to use your bed, so …”

      Her expression softened. “Forget Adrian. I don’t think he did anything in there.” She took Dare’s hand and turned to lead him to the room.

      He was so charmed by her urgency that he grinned. Lust and humor—who knew? He’d never experienced the combo before.

      Molly’s long, fast steps did amazing things to that delectable backside that he’d just been pawing, and he had to say, with heartfelt sincerity, “You have an incredible ass, Molly.”

      She smiled at him over her shoulder and tugged him into the room. “Thank you.”

      He stood in front of her, the bed right there, her need obvious. Damn, but his hands shook with the wealth of everything he felt. He’d known extreme lust, but he hadn’t known this.

      Smoothing her hair back, he bent to kiss her forehead, her cheek, her chin and finally her mouth. “I’ve thought of seeing you, all of you, a hundred times.” He dropped his fingers to the top button of her blouse.

      She kept her head down, watching his hands as he opened the blouse little by little. When he reached the button between her breasts, she sucked in a shuddering breath.

      “Dare?”

      He kissed her temple, slipped the last button free and opened the blouse. “Hmm?” Damn, she was sexy.

      “I still have … marks.”

      “I know.” He stroked the back of one finger over a bruise visible on her ribs. “I’d like to kill them all over again. But they’re already gone, honey.”

      “It’s not that. I just … they look awful.”

      He slipped the blouse off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. “Nothing about you is awful.” Bending, he kissed the angriest bruise left on her right shoulder. “And I won’t let anyone ever hurt you again.” To get her back where she needed to be, Dare kissed his way along her upper body, over her shoulders, her collarbone, her throat. Every so often, he gave her a gentle love bite and then soothed it with a soft openmouthed kiss and the stroke of his tongue.

      Holding on to his forearms, Molly tipped her head back. His hands easily spanned the width of her narrow back. Holding her like that, he arched her up and closed his mouth over her left nipple through her bra.

      Her vibrating groan tested his resolve, but he held on. Barely. While he teased her, he teased himself, too, by grinding his erection against her soft body.

      She sucked in a breath. “Dare?” Her right hand left his forearm and went to his abdomen, then down along the fly of his jeans.

      Through the denim she found and stroked him, making him nuts.

      “That …” He went still, his stomach clenching. “That might not be a great idea.” But God, he didn’t stop her.

      Calculating as only a woman could be, Molly whispered with pleasure, “You’re even bigger than I imagined.”

      Fuck patience. “Tease.” Dare opened her bra and pushed the cups down to expose her. Her heavy breasts, now freed of restraint, swayed with her every movement. Her nipples were soft pink in color, pulled tight.

      Growling with impatience, Dare pried her hand off his dick so that he could remove the bra completely, and he could have sworn that he heard her laugh.

      It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be amused for long.

      Going to his knees, he opened the snap on her jeans, slid down the zipper and tugged both the jeans and her panties to her knees.

      “Dare.” Sounding strangled, she braced her hands on his shoulders. “What are you—?”

      Holding her backside in both hands, he pulled her close and pressed his face against her. He inhaled her scent and growled again. “I can’t wait.”

      As he came back to his feet, she said something, but he wasn’t sure what. Lifting her up and onto the bed, Dare stripped the clothes from her body.

      Even though his gaze wanted to linger on her breasts and puckered nipples, her smooth belly and that neat triangle of dark pubic hair, he still saw the bruises. In stark contrast to her pale, soft skin, they were impossible to miss. They just didn’t matter, not to how he felt about her, how much he wanted her.

      As the marks healed, they turned muddied shades of yellow and green. But they were healing. Molly would be okay.

      He didn’t find the injuries ugly, as she did. If anything, they only served to remind him that when he’d carried her out of that place, he’d taken responsibility for her. She relied on him now.

      She was his.

      With one hand he touched the sleek silky skin of her upper thigh, while with the other he opened his jeans and eased the zipper down over his hard-on. He had to step back to get his shoes and socks off, and then he stripped off his shirt and tossed