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“Unreal.” Molly shivered.
“Are you all right?”
Down on the ground, Molly was trembling but it was with elation, not fear. Perhaps with a lot of wonderment too. She was also soaked to the skin and didn’t care.
“That was amazing,” she said. “Totally spooky unreal.”
Saul was over by the hacienda steps, seemingly unwilling to touch her now they were off the roof, but she stood in the center of the courtyard, blinking hard as the rain pummeled her face and her body like warm water from the biggest shower head in the world.
She threw her arms wide, head thrown back, “This is beautiful!” Joy infiltrated all parts of her mind and body.
She had no idea what it was, or what it meant, but she was happy to drink it in. They’d done it. More than one ‘it’ too. They’d built the roof frame, gotten it covered before the storm, and now Molly had told the great-grandfathers where to get off. Fortunately, it hadn’t backfired resulting in either Molly or Saul falling off the roof.
“Come on,” Saul called. “Let’s get inside.”
“I’m staying here.” He hadn’t spoken much in the few minutes since he’d escorted her off the roof. He’d gone broody and reserved, not meeting her eye and not standing close.
As they descended from the roof, he’d held onto her as though she might fall after all, even though she’d told him they were safe now. He’d made her climb down the ladder at the same time he had, protecting her with his body—which had made it a difficult climb and a slow one, but she’d understood his need of her safety and was appreciative of it. More than she could say. She’d never had any man put himself in danger for her.
“Molly. Please. Come out of the rain.”
She dropped her hands to her side and looked across at him. If she didn’t know what had happened to her, how could he possibly know or even begin to understand.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Sorry you were involved.”
“I don’t know what the hell I was involved in,” he called back, putting his hands to his hips.
He wasn’t frightened, not physically, but he’d been unnerved and who could blame him? The man had been drawn to Hopeless and Hopeless had gotten him involved in so much he hadn’t expected.
“I don’t know what this is,” she told him. “It’s not me, I can’t do this spooky stuff.” She didn’t think she could, although she’d had a taste of it. “But I felt the badness up there. Then I felt you. And I’m sure—this is going to sound crazy and I don’t care—”
“You’re not crazy. Stop saying that.”
“I felt my great-grandmother,” she said, trying to make reckoning with that as she explained it to Saul. “I felt out of this world, you know?” How could he know? She didn’t know. “I’m not explaining it well. I don’t know how to say it. It felt amazing. Wonderful. And powerful. Like I’d been charged with a thousand kilowatts of energy.”
He stared at her in a kind of bewilderment mixed with unease. “Did it hurt?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what it was that overcame me, or touched me or whatever, but it didn’t hurt.”
“I don’t understand any of this.”
By the look on his face he didn’t want to, and yet he’d asked, concerned for her.
“I don’t want you here on your own,” he called, his tone still brusque and impatient. “You can’t live here alone, Molly.”
But she’d never be alone. She’d always have Saul with her—the shadow of him. The echo of his smile. She’d feel him over her shoulder. Of course, she’d turn, and he wouldn’t be there, not in person, but he’d never leave her heart.
“Yes, I can,” she told him. “This is my place.”
Regardless of what she’d lose when he left tomorrow, she’d have this—her hacienda home and her business. Maybe it was all she was meant to have and she wasn’t going to complain. She’d cry a lot after saying goodbye to Saul. She’d throw things too, in all likelihood, but this was where she was meant to be. Nothing could change that. Not fate, not crazy psychic abilities, not anything.
“I’m sorry you were caught in all of this.”
He didn’t respond. Maybe it was time to lighten the mood. “At least your pants stayed on,” she said, smiling as she pointed at his jeans.
“Don’t joke, Molly.” His features were now set in surly, masculine concern.
The rain ran warm on her forehead, on her eyelids, on her cheeks and her mouth. She licked her lips and tasted the freshness of nature’s water. The dusty aroma of unexpectedly wet earth filled her nostrils with pleasure, and suddenly, she knew what he wanted. Correction—needed. She needed it too.
She held out her arms to him.
He blinked, not taking his focus off her.
She waited, arms outstretched.
After a few moments he gave a gruff exclamation, moved from the hacienda steps, and charged toward her with long strides.
Her heart beat faster.
He strode through the rain and the quagmire the deluge of water had created, his boots splashing in muddy puddles, his focus on Molly.
An evening breeze brushed Molly’s face a second before Saul halted in front of her, his body hard and already touching hers, the air between them hot and humid. He took her face in his hands.
She blinked up, rain washing over her head and down her face, dragging at her eyelashes.
“I want you, Molly. I want you naked on top of me. Next to me. Under me. I want to show you how good I can make you feel. I want you to share all that goodness you have. Will you share that with me? Now?”
“Yes.” Hadn’t he known, in his heart, that she’d sleep with him now. That she’d share the intimacy of sex with him. That she’d willingly give herself and allow him to give himself to her.
He kissed her hard, his mouth open and prying her lips apart.
Molly wove her arms around him. Her hands wandered over his back, dragging at his soaked T-shirt. It was heavy, sopping wet as she clutched handfuls and lifted it so she could touch his body.
The tenderness in his groan undid her and she trembled with exhilaration.
“Molly...” His voice whispered in her ears, his work roughened hands warm on her skin when he pushed her button-down shirt off and slid his hands beneath her thin, wet cotton top.
She sighed in pleasure when he pulled her closer again.
He was kissing her as though searching or grasping for the reason this was happening. Possessing her with his power to overwhelm her with need.
Every steel-hard inch of him was taut against her.
He swore in a deep, demanding growl, and she was off her feet.
She hooked her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his hips.
He walked her across the brick paving, over the lodge house courtyard, and into her bedroom through an opened French window.
The gauze curtains caught on their heads as he pushed through them, moving steadily and with intent as the wispy material cloaked them for a moment, then freed them.
Molly inhaled the smell of him. That unnamable male skin aroma, but Saul’s skin was freshened by rain too, and heat emanated from him right into Molly’s bones.
He put her on her bed, covering her instantly with his body and his strength.
He paused, his breath coming as hard as Molly’s, and looked deep into her eyes.
Her hair, wet from the rain, was already slicked back but he brushed it with his hand, taking hold of a great big chunk of it and tugging gently so her head tilted back and her neck arched.
“You’re beautiful, Molly.”
She was beautiful when she was with him. And now, she’d be forever beautiful because she’d had a touch from Saul.
The thin curtains blew up from the wind outside. The raindrops, fat and soft, pelted the opened glass doors and the tiled floor as it was thrown in by the wind.
Molly saw none of it. The sound of it was nothing more than orchestration, the setting perfect. She was in the arms of the man she loved, and totally absorbed in loving him while she had the chance.
