This chapter is pure smut, by the way. You've been warned.
"Damn!"
Molly bumped into the back of Holmes near the top of the dark stairwell leading to the second story of 221B Baker Street. A soft, yellow light from the hall beyond beckoned but they proceeded no further. He swept his hand out and urged her against the wall where he fell in line beside her. He lifted his head and peered around the wood molding around the opening, then snapped it back.
"What is it?" She whispered.
"Mrs. Hudson," he grumbled. "She is wandering the hall for some reason."
Molly choked on a laugh as she listened to the distant melodious hum of an older female, then covered her mouth. Holmes wrinkled his nose as he peered sideways.
"Ssh, you will give us away!"
"Oh, I really have to meet this Mrs. Hudson at some point," Molly laughed between her fingers. "She must be a fearsome creature to behold!"
Holmes pursed his lips, then sighed.
"She is not fierce, just fiercely meddlesome, that is all!"
Molly buried her face in her hands to stifle her giggles.
"Contain yourself, Hooper, or we will never pull this off," he whispered harshly.
She could not, though. In an instant, his arms were around her and he pressed her into the wall. His lips hovered over hers.
"Be warned, I am not above kissing you to keep you quiet!"
She smirked. "Ooh, how terrifying."
Holmes' stared down at her a moment with chagrin and then his frame shook. He laughed against her lips. She giggled in return. She had to remind herself that they were twenty-eight and thirty-five respectively, not fifteen. His voice was a bit higher pitched as he proceeded to plead his case.
"No, I really do mean it, Hooper. One look at you and she will summon a priest. Mark my words, we could be married by dawn."
Molly snorted. "God, when you put it that way, it does sound rather horrifying! I do not even know if you are any good at this whole deflowering business. I would not want to discover on our wedding night that you have no talent at all."
He pressed his lips together and shook his head as he tried not to grin. He released her and poked her gently in the stomach.
"Now you know that is highly unlikely. I am more in danger of you being so enamored by my prowess that you follow me around like a puppy until the end of time . . . oop! Hold that thought. Here she comes!"
Holmes scooted her behind his back and widened his stance. Molly listened to creaking footsteps approach.
"Sherlock?" A sweet-sounding voice drifted from the landing, "Is that you? Are you home?"
He cleared his throat. "Yes, Mum. Sorry, late night. Did not want to disturb you so I came up the back way."
"Oh, well, I was just coming to check on you. How fortuitous! Do you need anything?"
Molly watched him shake his head from the shadows. She had to bite her lip hard and hug her arms around herself to stop her giggles from escaping.
"No, Mrs. Hudson, do not concern yourself with me. I am going to shower and then head straight to bed. Please, you may retire. Take the rest of the night off . . . and tomorrow as well!"
"Pssht, what about your breakfast, my boy?"
"Erm, not needed. I will be out again before dawn. No need for you to venture upstairs at all, actually."
"Oh."
A tense moment followed and Molly thought she heard the woman move closer. She tried to shrink into the shadows as much as possible.
"Okay, then, lad. Thank you for letting me know for a change. I will go visit my sister then."
"Yes, wonderful . . . ahem, I mean, excellent plan. Make a day of it!"
"Ah, you are too good to me, Sherlock, thank-you. Good night."
The steps retreated. Holmes bid her adieu. After a moment, he let out a long breath and slumped back against the wall. His head flopped sideways and he reached for her. She thought she saw him swallow.
"Shall we?"
Molly tucked her lip in as her cheeks plumped with a smile. She took his hand and let his draw her up the stairs. She was a bit glad to see another side of him.
There wasn't much to see in the narrow upstairs corridor besides a lot of dark wainscoting and curiously morbid black and grey flowered wallpaper. A single overhead incandescent bulb swayed above them. Molly held her breath as Holmes paused in front of a dark brown door. Her heart sped up. Was this it? Was this his chambers? She blinked a few times as she was led into a rather modern looking water closet complete with a pedestal sink, claw foot tub, white subway tiles and shiny chrome fixtures. Holmes swung the door closed, plucked his coat from her shoulders, hung it on a hook and directed her to sit on a stool in view of the tub. He then languidly shrugged out of his blazer and then began unfastening his waistcoat. Molly stared dumbfounded at his elegant fingers as he worked for a moment before he noticed and paused.
"What is it?"
Her face warmed as she looked up at him. "Y-You're undressing."
He nodded slowly. His eyes narrowed in contemplation. He discarded his waistcoat and set to popping the buttons of his shirt apart.
"Yes, it is a prerequisite for . . . what did you call it? Deflowering?" He murmured with a tilt of his head.
Molly bit her lip. Her face felt on fire. She crossed her ankles on the crossbar of the stool and rubbed her wrists nervously on her lap. She kept looking down at her hands and back up at him anxiously.
"A-Am I to undress?"
He shook his head. "Not yet . . . mm, unless you would prefer to sit there naked while I shower? It is entirely up to you."
Molly's breaths quickened as his bare chest became visible between the loose halves of his shirt. Her voice was nearly a squeak when she spoke.
"You are alright with me w-watching you?"
Holmes stepped towards her, leaned down and feathered a kiss over her brow.
"I want you to be comfortable with my body," his low voice reverberated through her hair, "I do not want to just pounce on you. Well . . . actually, I do, but it is better this way."
With that, he stood up and shrugged out his shirt. Her airway constricted at the sight of him. He was lean, leaner than she had thought, yet still somehow large and toned like a young racehorse. When he hunched slightly to unfasten his trousers, muscles rippled across his stomach. Every inch of her tensed as the waist of the garment dropped. Her eyes followed a hard vee down to a hipbone and a tuft of hair. Her toes curled in her boots. Holmes' eyes flicked up. She fanned her face and glanced away. A low laughter rumbled towards her.
"Coward," he chuckled.
Molly took a few inhalations and dragged her eyes back up but by the time she did, she was staring at his naked backside as he leaned over the tub. She gnashed her lip. His back was a wide wall of solid muscle. His bum consisted of two perfectly curved cheeks. Beneath those, strong, solid thighs tapered to shapely calves. She could not reconcile how flawless a figure he cut. His body was like an illustration of the perfect male form from one of her medical texts. He stepped into the steaming water and with a quick yank, obscured her view with an opaque, white curtain. Her lip puffed in an involuntary pout. She consoled herself with apprasing his silhouette as he lathered his hair and washed his body. She was so entranced she was caught off guard when he pulled the curtain partially aside again. His damp hair was slicked back, water droplets slid down his nose and cheeks.
"I think you should join me," he murmured.
Molly's eyes widened until they stung. He raised his brows.
"Relax, Hooper, this is just another small step."
He flicked the curtain in the way of her view once more.
"Make haste, the hot water supply is limited," he called over the noise of the running water.
She hopped from her seat. For a moment, she stood there shaking but then took a breath, unpinned her hair and popped the buttons open at her wrists. Then she twisted around trying to undo her dress while her hair flopped in her face. She managed to get it mostly undone but the last bead between her shoulders was maddeningly elusive. She could not fathom how she got into the garment in the first place. She heard a low rumbling of laughter as she danced around.
"Trouble?"
"I-I am trying!" She rasped.
He laughed again. "Come here."
Her face flaming, Molly backed up to the tub and allowed Holmes to undo her last button. She sucked in a breath when a drop of water plopped onto her back and slipped down between her shoulder and underneath her underclothes. She swallowed. She was about to shower naked with Holmes! She felt a bit panicky. She had never even been in a shower before, let alone one with a naked man. She wriggled out of her dress and then worked on her underthings. She could feel Holmes eyes on her as she first slid her top off her shoulders and then stepped out of her drawers.
When she turned with her arms lamely folded over her chest, his intense gaze fixed on her face. Almost immediately, his expression softened and he held out his hand. She placed her trembling fingers in his and allowed him to help her into the torrent of streaming water. She gasped as the points of hot water impacted her back, infusing the ends of her hair with heavy moisture, and rushed over her shoulders. Holmes gently plucked her arm from across her breasts. Her breaths came short and fast as he gazed down at her body. Her nipples tightened as water poured down her chest and dripped from her nipples. She waited in agony for his shuttered expression to change. What did he think of her small breasts and slender form? Her body was nothing like the generous sirens one saw in renaissance paintings.
"This was an ill-conceived idea," Holmes muttered.
Molly's heart seized in her chest. "A-Am . . . am I inadequate for your needs?"
His eyes returned to hers in an instant. "Good God, no! You are more than adequate, Hooper."
His hands slid up her arms and cupped her face as he stepped forward and pressed his slippery form to hers. She felt something blunt and wet jut into her stomach before the length of it seared her belly. A tremor coursed his body and he moaned on her lips. Oh, Lord, he was very keen! Her core tautened and flushed with that knowledge. He tilted her head up and his lips fells on hers greedily. She clutched onto his firm midsection as she answered his feeding frenzy. Wet muscles rippled under her fingers. Her insides vibrated and shifted like flowing sand and her legs quivered. Then, his tongue invaded her mouth and his rod twitched and jerked against her body as if it too wanted to partake in the play. Molly stretched on her toes to get more into the kiss, rubbing her body against the most excited part of him. She felt vacant and needy. Her womanhood kept palpitating.
Holmes' head lifted and then fell to her shoulder. "Hu-uh, Christ, I meant this familiarization to go a bit slower . . . ah!"
His body shook again. He took several steadying breaths against her collar.
"Yes," he rasped, "let us be finished in here before I muck this all up."
Holmes helped her rinse her hair, turned off the shower and assisted her departure from the tub. He fetched a pair of towels from a nearby cabinet. She patted herself dry and squeezed the moisture from her tresses.
"Your hair," she whispered as she swaddled herself in the towel.
"Hmm?" He rubbed the dampness from a mass of thick curls. "Oh, yes, godawful. Grows like a weed and wants to coil into corkscrews. I am half-inclined to shave it all off."
"No! Blasphemy!" Her voice was husky.
A smile tweaked the corner of his generous lips. He wrapped his towel around his hips, twitched his brows and scooped her into his arms. Molly squeaked and clung to his neck as he carried her from the bathroom, down the hall and into his chambers. With a little kick backwards, the door groaned shut. She quickly surveyed the simple room to steady her nerves. A wrought iron double bed with a cream covering occupied the far wall between two tall windows with dark purple, velvet drapes. Wallpaper in an interesting, black and green thistle motif decorated the walls. A large, ebony wardrobe resided in the corner adjacent to the bed, a matching dresser anchored the left wall and an oak writing desk sat opposite of that. Various knick-knacks and curiosities dotted shelves around the interior. Finally, Molly peeked up shyly at Holmes who appeared to have been watching her the whole time. His lip twitched when their eyes met. His shoulders flexed.
"It is not too late to change your mind," he said in a low voice.
She fiddled with the hair at his nape nervously. "Y-You tease me, Holmes. My decision has been made for some time. Please, I cannot wait any longer to . . . to belong to you."
Holmes' nostrils expanded. He continued to the bed where he laid her down and the top of the down-filled comforter. In a heartbeat, he discarded both their towels and his warm, smooth flesh settled atop her own. Her nipples brushed against his chest and flattened as his full weight sunk her into the mattress. The intimacy of where his stiff erection and all its raw maleness pressed into her tummy caused her sex to tingle and flush with heat and wetness. His eyes closed as he seemed to absorb the feel of her beneath him. He groaned and drew some air into his lungs. When he opened his eyes again, he dropped his chin and studied her face. A few glorious curls fell over his brow.
"There are one or two things we should discuss before we go any further."
She bit back a frustrated sigh. "Holmes . . ."
"Hooper," his breathing became labored, "you appreciate that in order for me to avoid impregnating you, this could get . . . messy."
Heat flared across her face. "I-I suppose?"
"In fact," the pitch of his voice lowered, "intimacy between partners is not at all gracious. It is sweaty and noisy and indelicate. I understand it can be . . . painful for women the first time."
Molly gulped. "I-I am aware of that too."
He propped himself up on his elbow. He ran a finger down between her breasts and traced around her belly button.
"Hmm," he murmured, "so . . . you want to be mine?"
Her heart fluttered at the seductive way his lids dropped.
"Oh, yes."
Holmes half-smiled, clasped her wrists and directed her hands upwards towards the wrought iron bedrest. He urged her to take hold of the bars. The action caused her breasts to lift towards him. She felt his breaths puff across their tips. He lowered his lips, looking up at her from under his brows until she just felt the barest touch of them on her right nipple. His manhood flexed against her leg. She inhaled sharply.
"You want me possess you?" Holmes asked in his deepest tone.
"Unh, yes!"
His lids contacted and lines tugged at the corner of his eyes. A muscle flecked in his cheek.
"Then you are to keep ahold of the bedrest until I instruct you otherwise, agreed?"
She arched upwards. "Please, Holmes!"
A large, hot hand supported her back from underneath as his tongue swirled around her nipple and drew it into his mouth.
"Huh," her legs shuddered at the eveloping warmth.
Again, she felt a tug as he sucked a bit harder. She gripped the wrought iron so hard, the rougher edges bit into her hands. His tongue rolled her nipple upwards and pressed the bead of it gently against his top teeth. She cried out. His suction pulled what felt like threads of pleasure deeper within her breast. The ache between her legs transformed into a deep throb. He suckled again and trailed his hands down her sides. When she thought she was strung as taut as she could be, he moved to her other breast and repeated his attentions until she could feel the tiny bumps on the surface of his tongue against her flesh. Impossibly, her insides wound even tighter.
Holmes brought his head up towards hers again before the knot could have a chance to unwind. She felt the slight roughness of his hand glide over her belly.
"Open your legs," he said gruffly as he reached her apex.
Warmth flooded down her chest. Her nipples peaked as the moisture from his suckling evaporated. She parted her shaking knees. His hand gravitated ever lower. He kissed her shoulder, her neck and jaw. He leaned forward then and teased her lips upwards. One, twice he made her chase him. Then he laughed softly and his mouth finally caught hers. She felt him ease her folds apart at the same time their tongues tangled. He rubbed a digit over the middle of her sex which caused a crackle of pleasurable static to shoot inwards into her body. Her insides washed again with a rush of blood. She whimpered against his mouth as he stroked and teased and assaulted her senses. In a matter of a few minutes, she could no longer contain herself and was gasping for release.
"Sh," his slick fingers slowed their pace, "do not relinquish your hold on that, Hooper. I want to be inside you when it happens."
She bopped her head back against the bed in frustration. "Unh, but-"
"No buts," he growled, "spread your legs further. You are not ready to take me yet."
Molly obeyed his gravelly command. She could not seem to catch her breath as she waited for him to continue. Then, she felt the penetration of his finger as it pushed into her body. She clenched around it. He inhaled a sharp breath, stroked it in and out a few times and then added another finger. It was an odd, tight sensation and . . . good, so good.
Holmes huffed into her hair. "Christ, relax a bit, Hooper. You need to allow yourself to slack, understand? Otherwise, our joining will be very uncomfortable."
She nodded and tried to ease her hold. He withdrew his fingers and he entered her again with a third digit. She gulped several breaths as he pushed deeper. The feel of him stretching her almost satisfied that throbbing, internal hunger but she was frustrated when he was able to go only so far. There was a needy pit deeper within her that called out for fulfillment. Over and over she tilted her hips to try to take more and then finally groaned her irritation.
"Holmes . . . Sherlock, please, please . . . help me . . ."
His staff twitched on her leg. "Bloody hell, you make it impossible to be patient."
He withdrew his hand and shifted his weight on top of her. She chewed her lip as he lifted his hips and she felt him rub something large and blunt against her womanhood until it was almost as slippery as her folds. Then, the probing pushed forwards. Molly's lungs burned as she nearly hyperventilated. She found herself intensely aware of every little detail. There was a slight stress in lower her back as she bore his weight, a strain of her hips as his width pushed them apart, and a pulling pressure at her entry . . . she wanted to reach for him but kept her hold on the bed above her head as an anchor. Her vulnerability and the feel his primal invasion did wicked things to her body.
"Ah . . . hu-u-uh!"
The head of his shaft plunged forwards. The stretch of her flesh started to burn. Then, as the friction gave way, the blunt end of him breached her interior. Either side of her, the mattress dipped with his planted hands. Slowly, he slid his arousal inwards but it was not a smooth glide, rather, he had to inch it in as it her body adjusted. He groaned as he slipped a little and then came into some resistance. She felt a bubble of pain begin to form. Her breath caught and she tensed.
"Hooper," he said gruffly, "God, Molly . . . ease yourself. Relax your hold or this is going to be quite painful."
She nodded and swallowed. She sucked in short puffs of air through her teeth as she focused on unclenching her muscles. However, the more he pushed, the larger the bubble grew until a long, whistling breath hissed from her lips.
"Damn, hold onto me," he commanded softly.
She let go of the bedrest, locked her arms behind his neck, hooked her legs over his back and pressed her forehead to his collar. He swore and with one, deliberate thrust, burst past the obstruction and buried himself in her womb. There was a quick, blistering pain soon displaced by the more conspicuous feel of her body crowded by an outsider. She wriggled beneath him. His shaft felt as if it were everywhere all at once. There was pressure in her stomach, a hard, ridged presence all around her entry, and a feeling of fullness as if he had finally found where she throbbed most.
"Molly," he whispered, "darling, are you okay . . . is it bearable?"
She closed her eyes and squeezed along his impossible length again. The pain had subsided and a tension gripped her depths. She clutched his neck tighter. Had he used her name and called her darling? Her womb quivered.
"It f-feels, unh, wonderful, Sh-Sherlock, but . . . it is not enough . . ."
"Mm," he grunted and withdrew his hips.
Molly felt her body resist him as he pulled back. Then, he thrust inwards again, filling her once more. She whimpered in gratification. He made a guttural sound of satisfaction himself and proceeded to move again. Slowly, his hips beat a rhythm against hers, driving her further against the mattress each time. Each time he withdrew and stroked in, the friction was something she could have only described as pure pleasure. His breaths expelled hot and saturated in her ear. He anchored himself on her shoulders and increased his pace. A yearning, throbbing sensation gathered in the indeterminate region between her legs. She concentrated on this point that kept twinging and flaring. Soon, it was all she was consumed with - the increase of that gratifying ache. Then, he seemed to shift ever so slightly and her ache was a full blown hungry need.
Somehow, she was aware she was letting out a throaty cry with each raw penetration but was too lost to care. She pushed herself against him as she felt a gathering and collapsing of her pending eruption until finally, like a hurricane blasting through windows, she released. The point which had tightened to an impossible knot blew apart and spasms ricocheted from that spot outwards. Vaguely, she felt Sherlock slow his movements while she succumbed to her orgasm. She let it wash over her and liquify her limbs until the press of his lips on her neck brought her back to reality.
Molly felt something soft in her hands and realized she had jammed her fingers into his hair. Her flesh was hot and damp all over. Her breasts were slick with sweat on their undersides and her legs felt like jelly. She became aware of a bit of pain in her groin and hissed.
"Mm, sorry," Sherlock murmured in her ear. "I am a bit heavy."
"Uh," Molly experienced a ripple of pleasure as his still very hard shaft stroked into her again. "You . . .you are still very . . . stiff."
He nodded. "Yes, trust me, this is nearly an i-impossible feat but I wanted you to enjoy yourself. Did you? It sounded as if you did."
She couldn't answer. She nodded quickly, mortified as she fiddled with his hair nervously. She had been very vocal.
"What about you?" She whispered. "Are you going to . . . finish?"
He let out a noisy exhalation. "Ah, yes, but I think your hips have bore my weight long enough."
Molly relinquished his scalp as he pushed upwards, unsure of what he was planning. She looked up at him as he rose above her and slowly withdrew. His eyes were closed and lips were parted briefly as he extracted himself from her confines. She felt a little bereft without him buried within her body. Then, from his knees, he reached for a pillow and set it on the bed next to her. With a dark look in his eyes, he leaned down and kissed her briefly. He lifted his lips and hovered a moment.
"Molly, I would like you to lie on your stomach, hips on the pillow," he directed raggedly.
Her belly did a little flip at the tremor of his voice. She bobbed her head quickly, feeling a little anxious but excited at the unknown. He kissed her and then sat up again. His eyes were narrowed with intent as he watched her turn over. She wriggled into position on top of the pillow. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she felt air tickle her perked up rear. His hands slid down her back and over the curves of her posterior. He made a deep sound in his throat and leaned over her.
"Hold onto the posts again, please," he murmured.
Molly took a nervous little breath and reached out for the iron bars as her hair fell around her face. She grasped them firmly and blew out a couple of breaths against the bedspread. Sherlock moved over top of her, his ridged erection slid on top of her bum. Her core clenched and pulsated as she realized that he intended to take her like that. She arched her back as he spread her legs. Then he guided his head inside again. She puffed and panted at the familiar pressure. She closed her eyes when they started rolling back in her head and swalowed convulsively at the decadence . . . the pure wickedness of feeling him spread her from behind. Part way in, Holmes grasped her waist and thrust so deeply she felt like something had impaled her belly. The push of his hips plumped her backside and she could feel the hairs of his navel against her cheeks. Despite the faint pain from having already been plundered, she was greedy for more. She half-whimpered, half-moaned in satisfaction. Holmes supported himself on either side of her ribs and pulled out, then stroked back into her slowly.
"Unh!" She cried as his shaft drove inwards.
Again, he retracted only to pump back in, pressing her forwards on the bed.
She couldn't contain herself. "Uuunnh!"
Then, he increased his pace but only to a deliberate glide. It was just enough so that she could feel every ripple of every vein as he pinioned her body. Soon, she was letting loose with her own primal cries. Her center already felt raw and exposed and it did not take much to bring it near completion. Above her, Sherlock also seemed to be losing the battle for control. His movements became a lot less fluid. He panted noisily. His pace increased a final time. At the realization he was near his release, Molly let go and was hit by another soul-fracturing orgasm. Its undulations caused her to insides to spasm and compress on his member. He swore, plunged back in a final time then left her body.
Atop her rear, his member twitched. Little pulsations rippled along its length as something warm and wet spilled over her bum, her seam and down her back. His hips jerked against her a couple more times. Then he groaned and slumped to her left. She let go of the bedrest and laid there a moment feeling as limp as a bowl of pudding. She was thoroughly spent. She opened her eyes to see Sherlock lying sideways, breathing heavily and staring at her through expanded pupils. He reached out and brushed a hair back from her face with trembling fingers. With a strange, contemplative expression he caressed her cheek. Then, he frowned and yanked back his hand. He rolled away, jumped up from the bed and returned a few seconds later with a damp cloth.
Evidence of their coupling was wiped away. Molly sat up once he was finished and hugged her knees to her chest. She never really thought about what would come next but had someone asked, she would not have expected a drawn out silence. She looked up at him with confusion.
"I-Is something amiss?" She asked softly.
Her body still tingled all over. Sherlock had spilled evidence of his pleasure on her flesh. She was thoroughly confused. Some form of emotion floundered beneath his façade. He swallowed and gave his head a shake before reaching for a dark purple dressing gown from a hook near his bed. He spun into it and secured it tightly.
"Excuse me a moment," he mumbled.
Molly nearly choked on her own disappointment as a lumped formed in her throat. "You are leaving. What is wrong? What did I do wrong?"
Sherlock's face appeared pained. His fingers dangled at his sides. His eyes flicked once in her direction before he glanced away again.
"N-Nothing, Mol- Hooper, I just need to go see to something-"
Molly picked up the pillow from the middle of the bed and threw it at him. She could cry. He deflected the harmless provectile with his hands.
"Liar! You are running away!"
A deep crease appeared between his brows. He rubbed his hands over his face.
"You do not understand . . ."
She scrambled out of the bed and retrieved her dress. She didn't bother with her underthings, she just crudely threw it on and fastened a couple of buttons. As she bent to gather her other garments, Sherlock stalked up to her.
"What do you think you are doing?" He growled.
"Going home," she glowered up at him, "thank-you for your education in intimate relations, Sherlock Holmes. Your lessons have been revelatory indeed. I . . . I cannot wait to try them out all over town!"
Holmes glared, plucked her underthings from her hands and tossed them over his shoulder with a gruff curse. He stepped towards her. She stepped away but raised her chin in defiance. Undeterred, he walked her back until she bumped into the door. He trapped her within the arc of his arms as he leaned on the door and dipped his head close to hers.
"Do what you will, Molly Hooper," his voice rumbled, "but have a care for the poor bastards you enlist to further your education. I will take great satisfaction in removing the limbs of any man who dares touch you."
Molly felt a wavering in her tummy even though she was infuriated with him.
She licked her lips. "To hell with you. What do you care? You got what you wanted."
His chest heaved. "No, that is the problem. It seems I have not rid myself of this . . . lust for you at all."
She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, so sorry to have made myself a burden!"
His head dropped forwards. He hauled in several breaths and then glanced back up at her again.
"Y-You have," His voice sounded distressed, "You have infiltrated every corner of my mind, Hooper. You have become a veritable obsession and yet, it seems that is not enough for you . . . what . . . what do you want from me?"
Molly sniffled. "Truthfully?"
His lips set as if he already knew what she was going to say.
"Everything," she whispered.
He huffed and his eyes contracted again. "So you are not content with having conquered me in every other manner imaginable. You would have my heart as well?"
"Yes," she admitted.
She could not pretend any more, not after what had happened. She wanted his heart and soul.
"Well, I am sorry to disappoint then," he replied dryly. "You cannot have it."