Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(35)

Halle-fucking-lujah.

“Want to know the thing that’s really been messing with me all week?” she asked. “I can’t help but think Mom was onto something. Not about you. You were right, she’s never liked you, and I’m honestly not sure why.”

“Because I have a different opinion than her one hundred percent of the time,” I muttered.

She smiled. “True.”

“What was the great Dr. Deborah onto then?”

Molly looked to the floor. “That we’ve been doomed from the start.”

Her words were like a knife to my heart. “Doomed? You really think that?”

“Well, we are divorced.”

Yes, we were.

“I won’t let Mom get inside Kali’s head,” she promised. “And I’ll try to stop letting her get inside mine too.”

“Good.” At least one good thing would come from that letter. I bumped her shoulder. “I am sorry about the letter.”

Her eyes came up to mine. “Thank you.”

We kept our gazes locked and my heart trilled a beat faster. It would have been so easy to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her. Even divorced, there weren’t many times when I didn’t want to kiss Molly.

I leaned down an inch, her soft lips drawing me in.

She stayed perfectly still, her eyes holding steady as I came even closer. The minute my lips brushed against hers, her breath hitched. She didn’t pull away.

I pressed against her, firmly running my tongue over the small crease in the center of her full bottom lip. She opened for me, leaning in so I could get a deeper taste.

I sighed a moan as I wrapped my arms around her, bringing her even closer.

Molly relaxed into me, letting her tongue sweep into my mouth. Her fingers gripped my T-shirt, one hand in front and the other at the back, pulling it from where I’d tucked it into my jeans and belt.

My cock jerked behind my zipper, wanting the chance to lay Molly across this desk and take her hard and fast. But the clanging sound of metal bowls drove us apart, a reminder that Poppy was outside.

“What are we doing?” Molly whispered as she stood up. Her hand went to her lips, wiping them dry as she paced the office.

“It was just a kiss.”

She stopped pacing. “Why are we kissing?”

Because I couldn’t stop. Kissing her was as natural as breathing. “Do you want to stop?”

She shook her head but said, “Yes. We should.”

I stood from the desk and rounded on her, framing her face with my hands. “We should.”

My lips crashed down on hers again, this kiss hotter and harder than the first. When her lips were wet again and she’d yanked my T-shirt completely out of my jeans, we finally broke apart.

Molly smoothed out the hair around her temples that I’d ruffled. I tucked in my shirt, making sure my belt was straight and the bulge behind my jeans wasn’t too noticeable.

“No more kissing me today,” she ordered.

“I was going to come over tonight and work on the yard.” And spend the night in her bed.

Her cheeks flushed. “Then no more kissing me until it’s dark.”

I chuckled. “Okay.”

I’d gone years without sex, but this past week had been torture. Was this how addicts felt? Once they fell off the wagon, how did they get back on?

“I’d really like to know who’s sending these letters,” she said.

“Me too.” Especially because then I could get them to stop. If Molly didn’t like reading this letter, she was really going to hate some of the others. “What about one of the kids?”

She shook her head. “We have brilliant children, but that’s giving them a lot of credit. Do you think it’s Poppy?”

I took a step toward the door. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Wait.” Molly’s hand shot out and caught my elbow. “We can’t go out there. Look at us. She’ll know exactly what we were doing in here.”

A part of me wanted to walk out there and proudly show off the lip gloss I’d stolen from Molly. But it would only make things more complicated. “I have to leave at some point.”

“Here.” She hurried around the desk, grabbing a napkin from a drawer. She tossed it at me while she went to her purse for a compact mirror. “Ugh. My lips are all swollen.”

I hid my smile in the napkin as I wiped my lips clean. “Five minutes and they’ll be back to normal. Let’s just hang out for a few.”

“Okay. So how do you want to do this with Poppy?”

“Let’s just ask her.”

She gave me a flat look. “If it is her, she’s not just going to come out and admit it. She’s gone to a lot of trouble to hide this.”

“It’s her. I know it’s her.” There was only one person more devastated by the divorce than the kids, Molly or me, and that was my sister. “She’s at my house on a regular basis. She probably stumbled on the box where I was keeping them and thought . . . well, I’m not exactly sure what she thought.”

“Probably that the letters might get us back together.” Molly sighed. “I don’t want to get her hopes up. The letters might force us to deal with some old wounds, but we’re not getting back together.”