They soften upon seeing me, sending my pulse racing.
I keep quiet to make the serenity last for as long as possible. But as awareness sets in, her pupils widen and she backs away from me, breaking my heart.
I wish she would stop being in denial.
Or is it me chasing a fantasy?
Have I gone blind?
Am I truly traumatizing her by keeping her with me?
A voice deep inside me screams I’m on the right path. She doesn’t belong with Matt. If she truly did, she would’ve slapped me and not begged for my cock. She sure as heck would’ve run when I left the room to bring her diary. Instead, she lay right where I left her. I swear I saw her forlorn expression like seeing me hurt brought her pain too.
I also remember the lingering glances she sent my way when she thought I didn’t reciprocate her feelings over the years. It was her age and the fact that she was friends with my son that stopped me from acting on my feelings.
Had I known she felt our connection as strongly as I did, or years later she’d start dating Matt, I would’ve confessed my love and made her my wife.
Molly Wyler is my endgame.
The moment she says yes to being mine, I’m proposing to her. I’m not wasting another day.
To do that, I need to come up with a plan fast.
I need more days and nights with her to convince her we’re made for each other.
“I made you breakfast,” I softly say, not reaching for her to give her some much-needed space. “Your favorite. Pancakes with chocolate syrup and blueberries.”
“Quite a feast for your captive, Mr. Smith,” she sasses.
It takes all my willpower to keep my eyes fixed on her face because the little brat doesn’t cover her tits.
“Or is it a bribe, so I say yes to being your girlfriend?”
“Wife.” Her breath hitches at my correction. “The moment you say yes, I’m driving us to the nearest courthouse and marrying you.”
“D-don’t joke like that, Alexander.”
“This isn’t a game to me, Molly. Or a plot to get my dick wet. You’re the woman with whom I want to spend the rest of my life with. Build a loving home with a house full of our kids, who look just like us and have your fiery streak and strength. I’m in this for the long haul.”
She swallows, rendered stunned and speechless.
“Do you want a shower first?” I switch the topic. When she keeps staring at me mutely, I rise and round the bed to her side. Sliding one arm underneath her knees and the other behind her back, I pick her up and carry her to the bathroom.
Setting her on her feet in the shower stall, I tilt her face up and press a soft kiss against her lips and her forehead. “I was rough last night. I’ll take care of you now.”
She stares at my chest as I pull my black tee over my head. When I unbutton my jeans and remove them until I’m as naked as her, she bites her lip.
It’s hot because she does it unintentionally.
Keeping her close with an arm around her waist, I reach around and turn on the showerhead. The water rains down on us, jolting her out of her reverie. I expect her to pull away, but she doesn’t, surprising me.
I take it as a small win.
Sliding her hair over her shoulders, I let my gaze wander down her stunning body, studying and memorizing every delicate inch. Full breasts, a flat belly that flares out into a curvy waist, and hips that bear my fingerprints. There are whisker burns on the inside of her thighs.
My marks on her make me go feral, puffing my chest out with pride.
Grabbing the bodywash off the shelf, I squirt some on my palm. I begin lathering her from her shoulders and moving down to her arms. As the scent of jasmine permeates the air, she frowns and whips her head toward the shelf.
