“Then be brave again.” A quiet, powerful statement, followed by a fierce one: “Be that fifteen-year-old girl who told Queen B-face to shove her snotty nose in a dark, dark, place.”

Unanticipated laughter bubbled in Molly’s throat. “You mean Queen Bitchface?” she teased her friend affectionately. “I notice you still can’t repeat the words I actually said that day.”

“Sometimes, when I’m alone really late at night, I try to say bad words out loud,” Charlie said with the sharp, self-deprecating humor very few people were ever lucky enough—or trusted enough—to witness. “Once, I even said the ‘F’ word behind Anya’s back… very quietly.”

Molly’s smile deepened. “You degenerate.”

“Thank you.” Charlotte’s voice turned solemn again with her next words. “If you don’t want the same dream anymore, it’s okay, Moll. You’re allowed to change your mind.”

Her heart aching, Molly said, “I still want that dream. So much.” The white picket fence, the suburbs, the blissful ordinariness of being normal, she hungered for it so badly. “Only… maybe I can relax the rules, stop simply surviving and start living.”

Never again would she come into contact with a man as talented, as dangerous, and as fascinating as Fox. While they could never exist in the same world, his life lived on a wild, Technicolor stage that caused her veins to fill with pure terror, he was hers for this one month out of time.

Molly didn’t want to give up that month, not for anything. Especially not because of scars formed by the actions of two people so messed up their toxic relationship had eventually killed them.

Fox powered through the city streets until he hit the winding road that went along this part of the Auckland coast. The yachts and other seacraft had been moored for the night, but the area was vibrant with life as a result of the myriad restaurants clustered in the central section. Frustrated by the slow vehicle in front of him, he throttled back the speed—just as well, because right around the corner was a cop car.

That’d be perfect, getting his face splashed over the papers for racking up a speeding ticket after he’d told Molly he could keep a low profile. Teeth gritted at the reminder of why he felt like a powder keg about to blow, every muscle and tendon in his body stretched to snapping point, he continued to drive until he’d ground down the serrated edge of his temper.

Fox had never had any intention of allowing Molly to see that part of him, but he hadn’t counted on the effect she had on him. He couldn’t keep his distance. The only good news was that Molly hadn’t been the least afraid of him, despite the way he’d snapped. Grown men had backed down before him when he got that pissed, but Molly? She’d stood strong and fought.

He was proud of her spirit even as he was infuriated with her.

Now he had two options: return to his waterfront apartment, leaving the ball in Molly’s court, or drive back to her place and use sex to get what he wanted. He could, of that he had no doubt. Their chemistry was a thing of erotic beauty, his sexual experience a weapon against which she had no defense. Except if he did that, they’d repeat this cycle again as soon as her mind cleared.

And he had no intention, none, of ever again being kicked out of Molly’s bed.

Option one, however, carried with it a good chance she’d run scared. Fox wasn’t about to let that happen. Because their fight didn’t change the reason she’d said yes to a one-month stand despite her fear of addiction—the same reason she’d thrown him out and he’d blown up at her tonight.

And what they got up to between the sheets had nothing to do with it.

Eyes focused on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other on the stick, and his mind on the stubborn woman whose taste still lingered on his tongue, he decided on option three.

His body settled into the bucket seat, anticipation uncurling in his gut.

Seven forty-five the next morning and Molly’s fingers trembled as she looked up the number Fox had input into her cell phone the first night.

“In case you ever need a musician,” he’d said with a smile that had made her want to straddle his hair-rough thighs and claim kiss after kiss while his hands roamed over her. She hadn’t been confident enough to act on that impulse, but she wasn’t going to stay silent this morning.

Regardless of the stuttering beat of her heart.

Initiating the call, she readied herself to wait while he woke up, but it was answered on the first ring. “If you’re a telemarketer, I’ll be supremely pissed,” was the growled warning.

“Fox, it’s me,” she said, then winced. As if he didn’t know a thousand women who had his name on speed dial.

She’d just opened her mouth to identify herself when he said, “Molly Webster,” turning her name into a purring caress. “You often prank-call strange men on Sunday mornings?”

Goose bumps broke out over her skin. “I wanted to invite you to the market,” she said before she could lose her nerve, twisting her fingers in the thin cotton scarf she’d wrapped around her neck because she liked the indigo color against the raspberry of her cardigan. “If you still want to come.”

“Baby, I always want to come.”

Face red-hot, though her nerves eased at the sign he wasn’t still furious, she laughed. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“How soon can you be ready?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his tone.

“I’m pretty much done, but I can drive over and pick you up. It’ll take me about ten minutes at this time of day.” The roads would be all but dead, even in the city. “Is that enough time?”

“Man who needs more isn’t a man, but I don’t even need that.”

“I’ll start driving now.” The butterflies took flight again, her need to see him a scary, beautiful craving.

“Or you could come downstairs to the surface parking lot.”

Eyes widening, Molly ended the call and grabbed her purse. When she left the elevator on the ground floor to step out through the main doors, it was to find a low-slung beauty of a car parked near the exit from the underground garage. A bright, sleek yellow, it was a sexy, powerful intruder in amongst the compacts and sedans. Just like the man who prowled around the car to put his hands on her, her own on his chest a heartbeat later.

“You were so confident I’d call?” Her violent pleasure at his presence slammed up against annoyance at being taken for granted.

“Hell, no.” Smoothing his hands over her hips, his touch proprietary, he said, “But while I might possibly have a temper—”

Molly couldn’t maintain her annoyance in the face of his blunt response. “Possibly?” she said with a small smile, happiness dancing in her at having the heat and power of him so close, his scent in her every breath.

“Possibly.” He nudged her closer between his spread thighs, his hands moving to her butt, the green of his irises brilliant under the morning sunlight. “I’m not a man who gives up when I want something, and I want you, Molly. Under me, on top of me, with your luscious mouth on my co—”

Damp heat between her thighs, she pressed her fingers against his lips. “Stop. We’re going out.” Not back inside and to the bedroom where words weren’t necessary, pleasure and sensation their vocabulary.

A slow smile that turned her knees to jelly. “Yes, ma’am.” Squeezing her butt, he dipped his head, his lips flirting with hers until she wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth. He stroked his tongue deep, the rhythm languorous and she had the thought that if she hadn’t made him leave last night, he’d have moved in her with the same unhurried patience this morning.

“Come on,” he said when their mouths parted, that sexy dimple creasing his cheek and his hand cradling her nape in a way that felt breath-stealingly protective. “Let’s hit this market before I take you up against the wall there.” His forehead touched hers. “I’m not sure your neighbors would approve.”