Lori Foster - Men of Honour - Ready, Set, Jett / When You Dare / Trace of Fever / Savor the Danger / A Perfect Storm / What Chris Wants / Bare It All

It amused her how both Chris and Dare constantly tried to make light of their protective instincts. “Maybe, but it was more than that.” She rested her chin on a knee. “He’s one of the good guys, and I know that.” She peeked over at Dare. “I know the difference.”

Brushing the backs of his fingers along her cheek, Dare said, “You’re chilled.”

Molly shook her head. “It’s beautiful here.”

His hand eased under her hair to cup around the nape of her neck. “I think so, too.” He tugged her a little closer to him, sharing his body heat. “We both worry for you, Molly. No woman should have to go through what you did, and it’s understandable to have some difficulty with it. All Chris wants, all we want, is to make sure you’re okay.”

Closing her eyes, Molly bit her lip and tried to decide how to speak her mind. His thumb brushed over her skin, inciting her and doing so much to obliterate clear thought.

“I like your hands, Dare.”

He went still, cautious. “My hands?”

“Before … before what happened, I never paid that much attention to the differences in a man’s hands.” She reached out and found his other hand, cradling it in both of hers. “They’re so much bigger, so much stronger than mine.”

“True.”

Her throat felt tight. “And they can do a lot of damage without a lot of effort.” Palm to palm, she compared their hands—but there was no real comparison. He was large and strong and capable, more than able to defend himself from harm. But she had been utterly helpless.

Dare laced his fingers with hers. “They can also protect.”

“I know.” She looked up at him. That silvery, magic moonlight limned his features, emphasizing the sharp lines of his face and making his dark blue eyes fathomless, sexy and so appealing. “That’s the difference I see now, with you. Not the possibility of inflicted pain, but the compassion. The care. I look at your hands, and I think of how you touch me, and how it makes me feel.”

“Molly.” As if pained by her words, he touched his forehead to hers.

“You’ve given me a whole new perspective, right when I needed it most. If you hadn’t shown up that day—”

“Shh.” His hold grew tighter. “I did, and that’s all that matters.”

Needing him to understand, Molly shook her head. “Every day got a little worse, and I got a little weaker. I don’t know how much more I would have suffered. I don’t know if I’d even be alive right now if it wasn’t for you.”

His hand shook as he smoothed her hair behind her ear. “I’m damned glad I was there.”

He couldn’t promise that nothing bad would ever happen to her again, because they both knew he wouldn’t always be around. And it wasn’t his responsibility to protect her, anyway. It was hers—and it was time she took control of her life, starting with recovery from her fear.

“Those men … they hurt me on purpose.”

“I know.” He kissed her forehead.

“Sometimes, especially when I’m alone, I can’t help thinking, remembering, what it was like.”

“Molly …”

She drew a slow breath. “It hurt, but the fear was worse than the pain. One of them would do something, and the others would like it, and they’d join in, and I wouldn’t know …” She swallowed. “I had no idea how far it’d go.”

“I wish I could kill them again for you.”

She fisted her hand in his flannel shirt. “Knowing that the other women were watching, and that they knew how afraid and helpless I was, made it worse.”

“You hated being defenseless. Most people do.”

“I thought I would fear all men after that. But I opened my eyes and saw you that first time—”

“And kicked me in the nose.”

She couldn’t really laugh right now, though she smiled with him. “Right after that, as soon as you spoke to me, I felt so damn safe and so grateful….” The tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them away. This wasn’t a time for crying. It was a time for healing.

Dare tipped up her chin. “You’ve been incredibly brave and smart, and I admire you a lot, Molly. I hope you know that.”

He admired her. Great. It was nice—but she wanted more. She needed more. “Would you do something for me, Dare?” Before he could speak, Molly carried his hand to her breast.

His body went very still. Seconds ticked by.

Sounding hoarse, Dare whispered, “Tell me what you want.”

The feel of his broad, strong hand against her left her quaking inside—in a good way. The tremble sounded in her tone as she tried to explain. “I want to be whole again. I want to be me , the person I was before I was taken to Tijuana.”

Dare said nothing. Molly felt his hesitation, his indecision. God love the man, he didn’t want to take advantage of her.

“I know what I want, Dare.” She covered his hand with her own, pressed him closer. “I want to replace the bad memories with new ones. Better ones.”

His hand curved around her, but he said nothing.

Watching his face, Molly whispered, “I want to do that now, with you.”

LITTLE BY LITTLE, Dare relaxed until his hand curved around her breast, cuddling her. Molly could hear the acceleration of his breathing, the increased heat from his body.

With his voice going low and harsh, but his touch gentle, Dare asked, “They put their hands on you?”

Recalling the total humiliation, the nausea and fear, she nodded and said brokenly, “Yes.”

“Here?” When Dare’s thumb found her nipple, they both drew in sharp breaths.

“Yes.” Oh, God, she couldn’t think when he touched her. “They did … but not like that.”

The maddening stroke of his thumb continued. “More to hurt you?”

Words were beyond her, so Molly nodded again.

With small kisses to her temple, her cheek, the bridge of her nose, Dare nudged her face up until he could feather light, teasing pecks to her open mouth. When she made a sound of excitement, he nibbled on her bottom lip, licked her upper lip—and finally sealed his mouth over hers in a consuming, tongue-twining kiss.

All the while, his hand played with her breast. Molly wore a T-shirt and the sweatshirt, and still the touch of his hand on her was unbearably intoxicating.

Clasping a hand around the back of Dare’s neck, she tried to kiss him harder, deeper.

He lifted away, but not far. “If I’m going to do this—”

“You are.” She needed him so badly that she’d insist if she had to.

Dare smiled. “Then I want to do it right.”

She had no idea what he meant by that.

His eyes glittered at her in the darkness before she saw his resolve. “Tell me if you feel any panic at all.”

“I won’t. Not with you.”

He freed her from the quilt and spread it out behind her.

Cold air washed over her, but she wasn’t chilled. Far from it.

Easing her down to her back, Dare stretched out beside her. Even with the quilt as a cushion, the wooden boards of the dock should have been uncomfortable to her back. But at the moment, all Molly felt was Dare, breathing so close to her, touching her so carefully. She stared up at a velvet blanket of stars and the fat, glowing moon, and she knew the truth.

She was fast falling in love with a man who wanted her almost as much as he pitied her.

For now, it just didn’t matter. She needed this, she needed him , too much to care about anything else.

DARE LOOKED DOWN AT Molly, so trusting and so vulnerable in ways she didn’t even know. He’d made a vow to himself, but how could he have known that she’d offer herself like this?

All during his drive home, he’d thought of Molly’s life thus far. Her mother had died too young, and her father was a world-class bastard. Growing up under Bishop Alexander’s rule would have been a trial of endurance; that man could make anyone’s life hell.