“Right, that’s right. I—” Charlotte broke off as the deep male voice returned in the background. When her friend came back on the line, she sounded half-strangled. “He just said we’re going out to dinner so I can bring him up to speed on ‘certain issues.’”

Molly decided she liked the new boss. “Go.” Make Anya look bad, she added silently. It infuriated her that Anya—all gloss and impeccable style—dumped her work on Charlotte, then took the credit, with Charlotte too shy and reserved to push herself forward. “Order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

“I’ll probably throw it up,” Charlotte said morosely. “I better go—he said five minutes.”

“Good luck.” Hanging up, she stared at the gorgeous man who’d made her bones turn to honey with his kiss and felt the butterflies in her stomach take flight again.

Terror, anticipation, near-painful desire… Molly wasn’t sure what she was feeling, what she was doing, but when Fox turned to look at her with a half-smile on those bitable lips, she knew she wasn’t going to renege on their agreement.

One month. A single, passionate month out of a lifetime. Surely fate wouldn’t begrudge her that?

Fox saw secrets in Molly’s eyes. His instinct was to demand she share them, demand she let him in, but he knew damn well that would never work. For this battle, he’d need patience when patience was the one trait he’d never been accused of possessing. Putting away his phone, he walked over to take her hand, tug her to the door he’d found while he’d been placing the order.

A single push and it slid open to showcase a minuscule balcony—but one with a clear view of the city skyline. The fall air was crisp, the temperature having dropped since he’d entered the building. It cooled his skin, did nothing to chill the heat in his blood. Allowing Molly to go first, he waited till she turned to face him, then pinned her against the railing with his hands on either side of her body. “Food’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“Oh. Good.” Her voice was a touch husky, her eyes not quite meeting his.

Fox fought the urge to haul her to the bedroom, strip her to the skin, take her deep and long until all distance was erased. Sex was easy. He didn’t want easy. He wanted Molly.

Deliberately pressing so close she had to tip up her head to look at him, he said, “Was that your friend from the party? The tiny blonde with glasses?”

Her eyes widened. “You noticed us?”

“I noticed every damn thing about you.” Giving in to temptation, he kissed the line of her throat, her jaw, suckled on her lower lip.

Molly’s heartbeat had accelerated under his caresses, her pulse thudding beneath her skin. Yeah, sex might be easy, but he had no problem using it to tie Molly to him while he worked on what he really wanted. “How long have you been friends?”

Her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, Molly’s eyes lingered on his mouth and on the lip ring he’d figured out she loved. He felt his mouth curve. “Molly,” he said, pitching his voice low and deep, his entire body primed for her until it was only his grip on the cold metal of the railing that kept him from petting and stroking and seducing her right on this balcony.

The color on her cheekbones darkened, her lashes coming down to shade her eyes. “Since nursery school,” she said after almost half a minute. “We should go inside. It’s cold.”

Wrapping her up in his arms, he spoke against the shell of her ear. “Is this better?”

Molly didn’t answer, but her arms came around him a few seconds later.

It felt… right.

Rubbing his cheek against her temple, he suddenly remembered his stubbled jaw. “Sorry. I don’t want to mark up your skin.” Not quite the truth. He liked seeing her creamy flesh reddened by his kisses, his touch, intended to rub his jaw along the sensitive inner skin of her thighs in bed tonight before he tasted her.

“I don’t mind.” A quiet murmur, her breasts pressed against his chest, her hip dangerous temptation under his hand. “Do you want to—I mean, should we—” Her fingers clenched in his T-shirt. “I suck at this.”

Enjoying his soft armful of woman, Fox stroked her from the top of her spine to the sweet curves below. “I think you’re perfect.” Natural and unaffected and with an open desire that made him her slave, if she only knew it.

“So, should we…”

Fox knew she was attempting to wrench this night back under control, push them into the bedroom where it was safe. He could even guess at the reasons why she didn’t want to become any further involved with him. Hell, he wouldn’t date himself. Not with the reputation he’d earned as a young musician, a rep that had never quite worn off—and that didn’t take the relentless media attention into account. No sane, intelligent woman would want to be caught up in his world, her every action scrutinized, her life put under a microscope.

Fox had nearly punched out a reporter last month, and he’d been living this reality for years. So yeah, he understood. He just didn’t plan on allowing any of that to get in the way of his pursuit of Molly and the nameless but increasingly powerful thing between them—because he’d protect her. She wouldn’t be thrown to the wolves, would be safe with him and the band.

“Takeout,” he reminded her instead of speaking his thoughts aloud. The instant he did, Molly would realize he’d never actually agreed to her one-month time limit and pull away. He couldn’t allow that; he needed the time to coax, cajole, and pleasure her into trusting him. Enough to give them a real shot.

An hour and a half later, Molly found herself uncertain of what to do. She’d never had a passionate affair before, felt gauche and lost.

Closing the distance between them, Fox took her hand, led her into the bedroom. “Such big brown eyes.” He cupped her face between those rough-skinned hands that felt so exquisite against her skin. “What’re you thinking?”

That voice. Hard rock and pure sin, it made her breath catch, her stomach somersault. “That I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, since he already knew the exact breadth of her experience.

Fox rubbed his thumb over the plump flesh of her lower lip. “We do what feels good” was his simple answer. “First”—his eyes intent on her face—“you tell me if I need to wait till tomorrow.”

It took her a second. Then, fingers curling on his T-shirt, she shook her head. “No, I think it’ll be okay.” Her muscles ached, but there was no pain.

“You just say stop if it isn’t.” His mouth was on hers as soon as she nodded, his kiss intoxicating.

By the time their lips parted, her hands were under his T-shirt and on the hot skin of his back, her nipples rasping against the fabric of her bra. She was acutely aware of his hands on her backside, the hold blatantly sexual. When he shifted to undo the button and zip on her skirt, she allowed the black piece of clothing to drop to the carpet, the style loose enough that it didn’t catch on her hips.

Nudging away her hands, he tugged her sweater over her head himself. “Beautiful.”

Molly knew she wasn’t beautiful, not like the starlets and models who lived in his world, but he made her feel that way, his voice gritty with appreciation. Clasping his hand over her nape again, he drew her in for a kiss as wet and as demanding as the need between her thighs. “Take off your bra for me, baby.”

Shivering at the sound of that voice meant for sex and sin, she pulled the straps down her arms, then undid the hooks to drop the black lace bra on top of her skirt. It left her dressed only in matching panties and the thigh-high tights Fox looked at with a smile of pure male approval. It set her skin afire with nerves.

His hands on her. No warning, no hesitation, his palms covering the bare mounds of her breasts. Shocked into a moan, she arched into him, shuddering at the feel of his rock-hard body against the softness of her own. When he released her needy flesh after a single squeeze, she wanted to whimper, beg for more.