Page 5 of Noah
Molly didn’t answer.
“Molly!” I said sharply. Still nothing. “Bug!”
Her back stiffened at that, and I felt a thrill of victory run through me. She’d never been able to ignore the nickname. Not since she was six and I was a whopping ten years old, basically ancient in kid years. She’d been small enough to fit under my armpit at the time, practically a pixie, and the name had suited her so well I’d used it for an entire year.
She’d hated it. Even tried to bite me once when I said it. But she’d never stopped answering when I called.
Instead of turning and making her way back to me the way I expected, though, she reached down, yanked her coat off the chair, and then strode through the door like she hadn’t even heard me.
I opened my mouth to shout at her again, ask her what the fuck she was doing, but the door slammed behind her before I could get any words out.
And then I was alone.
I closed my mouth slowly, trying to figure out whatthathad been about. Then I glanced down at my lap and noticed that I was fucking hard and ready. Aching with a deep need to have someone underneath me.
Someone with brown hair and wide green eyes that flashed when she was mad.
At that point, memories of the morning started to come rushing back.
Shit.
I didn’t remember how we’d gotten into bed or when we fell asleep, but I did remember waking up in that slow, hazy way you do when you’re warm and comfortable and safe. I’d realized there was light coming through the windows, a shaft of it glancing across my face and waking me, and I’d had a split second of wondering where the fuck I was and how I’d gotten there. Then I’d felt movement next to me, and the wondering had turned to panic, because I couldn’t for the life of me remember who I’d been in bed with. Had I gone out last night? Gone to a bar? Picked up a woman I couldn’t even remember meeting?
God, was I in trouble?
Look, it wasn’t that outlandish. That sort of thing happened a lot. More than you might expect. But that had never changed the sliding-sideways-without-brakes feeling I got when I woke up with a stranger in my bed. I’d spent most of my childhood not knowing where I was going to wake up or who was going to be there, and waking up with a girl I didn’t know next to me never got easier.
The fear of what I’d done to get her there never went away.
Of course, that didn’t stop me from bringing them back to my room. It never had. I liked having a warm body in bed with me. I didn’t like sleeping alone. It gave me too much time with myself, and that wasn’t a good thing.
Yes, I see the contradiction. No, I’d never bothered trying to explain it to myself.
When I slanted my eyes open this morning, though, worried about what I might see, I’d found a familiar back in front of me. A t-shirt I knew, because I’d bought it for her, and a mass of chocolate brown hair that I recognized as if it was my own.
And I’d been so happy to see her that I’d pulled her right into me, burying my nose in her hair and inhaling the scent that could only ever be Molly Rush. Something like chocolate and pastries, with a hint of something spicier, like she’d been up baking all night. She’d always smelled the same, ever since we were little, and it had never made any sense. When we were kids, we hadn’t had access to things like chocolate or pastries. And now that we were older...
I wasn’t completely positive, but I didn’t think Molly had ever set foot inside a kitchen. And she certainly didn’t bake.
That smell had always felt like home to me, though, and getting a face full of it first thing in the morning, her body warm and molding to mine like she’d been waiting for me...
I jerked my thoughts to a stop and opened my eyes again, trying to figure out when I’d closed them. What the fuck was I doing, thinking about things like that? What had Ibeendoing, pressing up against her like she was some conquest from the night before; just a girl to be used for her body?
It was the furthest thing from the truth. Molly was my best friend and little sister. She had been since she was six, when I saved her from some kid chasing her. I’d seen them running into the fog and it had taken me about three seconds to realize that he meant to do something no kid should ever do. I hadn’tknown her well, at that point–just as one of the younger kids from the girls’ side of the orphanage–but I’d known I couldn’t let it happen.
She’d needed a hero. And I’d charged into the fog, intent on being the best hero I could be.
When I caught him, I beat the crap out of him, not caring that she was watching. I’d been furious at the thought that he was going to hurt a girl so much smaller than him, and even angrier that no one had stopped him. He hadn’t hesitated, which made me think this wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this, and the more I hit him, the angrier I got.
I would have killed him, and probably spent the rest of my life paying the consequences. But a tiny hand on my shoulder stopped me.
I’d turned and seen Molly, big eyes and too much hair, and it had brought me out of my rage. Instead of killing the cretin, I’d gathered her up and taken her back to the orphanage, where we took what breakfast the place had to offer–stale cold cereal and nearly spoiled milk--and sat together at one of the tables.
She’d never left my side that morning, and from then on, I was her guardian angel. The avenging demon standing between her and everyone else. The place she turned when she was scared. And in exchange, she became my home. My pet. The placeIwent when the world became too much.
You can see, I’m sure, why I was so happy to find her in my bed this morning. Molly was the first and only girl I’d ever met who followed through on her promises and made me feel safe. Loved. Needed. So I had exactly zero space for feeling her up and nearly fucking her when I found her next to me the morning after a business session.
I groaned and threw myself back on the pillows. This was just fucking perfect. I couldn’t remember what we’d done last night or whether it was anything serious, and the first thing I’ddone this morning was upset Molly and send her rushing from the room. Fucking terrific. We were due to start the next tour in a week–maybe two; I couldn’t really remember–and here I was messing with my best roadie. She was the only one who knew how I liked to be managed, and definitely the best at finding me the equipment I liked when it came down to it. She was also the only one who believed in what I was doing on the business end of the tour.
