Page 56 of Where's Molly

She shakes her head. “I don't scare that easily. Not anymore, at least.”

“See? She's tough,” Mom tells me, then focuses on Molly, a sly grin on her face. She's going to say something terrible, except I don't have time to stop her. “How viable is your uterus? Eggs haven't shriveled yet, right? I've been waiting for grandkids.”

“I'm sorry about her,” I apologize, leading Molly into my childhood room. “Believe it or not, she doesn't ask about every woman’s uterus that I've brought around.”

She gives me a guarded look. “How many women have you brought around?”

My expression is serious as I say, “Two. And they were hopeless attempts at trying to make myself feel what I felt with you.”

She turns away, choosing not to answer.

“My mom really likes you,” I tell her, refusing to let her run away, even if it’s in her own mind.

“She hardlyknows me,” Molly argues softly, running her fingers over a high school soccer trophy.

“She knows all that she needs to,” I say, shrugging a shoulder.

She raises a brow. “What have you told her?”

I grin. “Only the important parts. That you’re incredibly strong, funny, and the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I think she can see that already.”

“What if she's wrong? We're not even dating.”

My muscles tighten, and my teeth clench. I'm overcome with the urge to show her just how wrong she is. She’s mine, as explicitly as the heart in my chest.

I’m advancing on her before she can slide her fingers across another trophy. Her breath halts as I crowd into her, my chest molding against her back. She shivers as I lean in closely, feathering my lips across the shell of her ear.

Those little tremors are not nearly enough.

I want her to fucking convulse like she’s being possessed, and it’ll be my cock inside her while she does.

“You think I need an anniversary date to put my baby inside you?”

I don’t recognize my own voice anymore, but I do find that little gasp familiar.

“You wouldn’t,” she breathes. “We hardly know each other.”

“No,” I agree. “Not yet, at least.” I place a kiss below her ear. “But I would. I absolutely—” Kiss. “—fucking—” Kiss. “—would.”

She whips around, those fiery eyes pinned to mine as she snaps, “I wouldn’t let you. What if I find you to be absolutely insufferable? You could leave food crusted on your dishes insteadof rinsing them off. Or have dirty clothes all over the floor and soggy towels on the bed.” She pauses and glances nervously to the side. “You could find my nightmares intolerable.”

“You don’t think I have them?” I question, enjoying the feeling of her heart beating against my chest. “I’ve suffered in life, too, baby. Just in different ways.”

“You have nightmares?” she questions curiously.

In response, I grab her hand and pull her after me.

“Where…?

She trails off as I lead her out of my old room, down the hall, and to the last door on the right.

She doesn’t speak as she takes in the pale yellow walls, blue-and-yellow duvet, and the pictures pinned to the corkboard hanging above her white desk. Pictures of a blonde-haired girl sticking her tongue out next to friends or holding up the peace sign and pursing her lips.

She was beautiful.

“Her name was Olivia. She was murdered when she was sixteen, and I was twelve. It ultimately led me to get into the business I’m in. She and her friend were caught trying to get into a nightclub with a fake ID. Her killer was a cop who came to pick them up, and she never came home.”

“I’m sorry,” Molly whispers, slowly walking up to the photos and studying them closely. “Not many people come home.”

---