Breathless Secrets by Elizabeth Lennox

Chapter 7

Molly floated through life over the next two weeks.  She worked hard at the Center, but promptly at five o’clock every day, she packed up her computer, filed away her reports, and locked her office so she could head home.  She’d then shower and change into something pretty and slightly daring. She enjoyed surprising James by opening the door wearing pretty dresses that made his jaw drop. 

Life was pretty good!  Okay, reporters seemed to pop up at odd moments, which wasn’t appreciated.  But Molly loved spending time with James.  They went to expensive restaurants and he paid for their dinners.  Then she’d demand equal time and would take him out to dinner at one of the less expensive culinary haunts.  Every time it was her turn, he tried to pay for their meal.  But Molly knew the proprietors of those establishments and, most of the time, she managed to ensure that she paid for their meal.  Every once in a while, James would be extra sneaky and would get his money out before she had a chance to.  But on those nights, Molly would demand the upper hand in bed as pay back. 

No matter who paid though, they always ended up in bed.  Normally, James would bring her back to his place, but Molly hated his penthouse.

“Why do you hate it so much?” he finally asked, parking in the underground parking lot.

She stepped out of his Mercedes, meeting him at the elevator that was closest to the passenger side door.  “Because it has zero personality,” she said.

“I beg to differ,” he replied, pulling her into his arms and nipping at her earlobe as punishment.  Molly simply laughed, trying to squirm away, but her efforts were half-hearted. 

“You can beg all you want, Mr. Morgan,” she teased.  “But your penthouse is dull.”

They stepped into the elevator, a private one she’d learned, and he pressed the button that would take them to the top.  “How is it dull?”

She glanced up at him over her shoulder since she was leaning back against him, his arms wrapped around her waist. “Well, let me see,” she said, tapping her chin with a thoughtful finger, pretending to consider the issue.  “You have a black leather couch.”

He waited, but the elevator doors opened and she stepped out, walking through the foyer to glare at the offending sofa. 

“And?” he prompted, as he pulled her sweater off, letting it fall to the white marble floor.

She laughed, taking a step forward as she spun around to pull his tie off, dumping it on her sweater.  “And…” she teased, working the buttons on his dress shirt, “that sofa is barely comfortable enough to sit on.  It’s certainly not that comfortable for…other pursuits.”

He looked over her shoulder.  Then down at her. “Why can’t one sit on it?”

“Because it’s too stiff.  And there are no pillows.”  She glanced at the leather sofa.  “I’ll bet your decorator said something along the lines of how pillows throw off the clean lines of the furniture, didn’t he?”

Molly laughed when he rolled his eyes, proving that she was right.  “Okay, so I’ll get a new sofa.  What else?”  Her dress dropped to the floor, pooling around her feet. 

James grinned, staring down at the barely-there bra and panty set that she’d bought earlier in the week. 

“Isn’t that horrible sofa enough?”

“You said my penthouse was dull.  Are you telling me the sofa is the only thing that you hate?”

He lifted her up so that she was perched on the back of the sofa, the cool leather stiff against her nearly bare bottom.  Looking around, she wondered what he was up to, although she could probably guess. 

“Hmmm…well, your dining room table has no personality.  It’s just a polished wood table.  The chairs aren’t ‘Thanksgiving chairs’ either.”

His head reared back slightly while his hands slid up her waist, cupping her breasts.  “Your family has chairs for different holidays?” he asked, then leaned into her so that she had to hold his shoulders for balance or fall off the sofa. 

“No!” she laughed, and yelped when his mouth captured her nipple, teasing it unmercifully.  When he finally lifted his head, he looked into her eyes, although his thumbs continued to tease her nipples. 

“No?  You mean… you don’t want me to keep doing this?”

Molly’s eyes glazed over.  She could have sworn that they were talking about…something else.  But his fingers, his thumbs…and how had he gotten between her legs?!  He reached down and tore off his pants.  When had he gotten rid of his socks and shoes?  Good grief, James was gloriously, amazingly naked! 

“Condom?” she whispered, shivering as he nibbled his way along her neck. 

He fumbled with the condom, rolling it down over his length and Molly knew that he was doing that on purpose.  Every time his fingers moved, they seemed to hit that nub, making her shiver and wiggle.  He even chuckled softly as he grabbed her hips, pulling her forward as he plunged into her heat.  For a heartbeat, they stayed just like that!  Molly sighed, absorbing his beautiful invasion and James groaned as her body expanded around his shaft, then tightened as her body reacted. 

“I love it when you do that,” he whispered, then started moving.  Thrusting slowly, torturing Molly with every slow, slick thrust of his body into hers until he finally started moving faster.  And faster!  They were gasping for air when she shuddered, her orgasm taking both of them over the edge as they held onto each other. 

In the aftermath, James lifted his head and looked around, realizing that Molly was still perched on the back of his black sofa.  “I think I kind of like this sofa,” he admitted, biting her earlobe again before pulling out, then helping her down.  He held her steady while she regained her balance, then kissed her before grabbing a tissue to dispose of the condom. 

“What don’t you like about my bedroom?” he asked, taking her hand to lead her down the long hallway. 

“I love your bedroom,” she replied, still dazed. 

He shook his head.  “No no,” he teasingly corrected.  “You said that my place was dull.”  He pulled her along into his bedroom.  “I’m going to prove that it isn’t.” 

Molly laughed, delighted with his plan.  She loved this playful, daring, loving, and passionate side of James Morgan.  This was the side of him that the public didn’t know about.  It was the side that she felt special to be privileged to discover! 

Eleanor dropped the newspaper in disgust.  Another picture!  That woman, whoever she was, had to be stopped!  Granted, she was wearing a demure dress this time instead of a red tramp outfit or a pair of those repulsive jeans and worn out tee shirt, but James couldn’t be seen with a tramp.  Molly…whatever her name was…simply wasn’t the right image for a man about to win a senate seat. 

Tapping a well-manicured fingernail thoughtfully on the arm of the polished chair, she contemplated her options.  Perhaps it was time to be a bit more active in her son’s life.  Granted, she hadn’t seen or spoken to James in about…well, she couldn’t remember how long it has been.  There hadn’t been any need to speak to James.  He was doing an excellent job of becoming a presentable man, so there’d been no reason to bother with him.

But now…her gaze moved to the picture in the newspaper again…now, there was a reason. James simply could not fall for a tramp, regardless of how much the press loved her and the pathetic community center she ran.  She wasn’t the right type.  James needed someone who knew how to lord over an exclusive “casual” Sunday brunch or a massive formal gala in Washington, D.C. with all of the right people.  And she doubted that this Molly woman knew how to throw the all-important dinner parties with cocktails and socializing that were vitally important for every man’s career. 

It was clear Eleanor needed to intervene.