“Don’t make me wait,” she whispered and, heart trembling, spoke words she hadn’t said to a single person since well before the day her world imploded around her. “I need you.”

“Molly.” Fox pulled her down over his rigid erection, going so deep she felt branded, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her backside.

Molly cried out, found herself kissed with a rough tenderness that devastated her.

“We’ll do this.” Fox’s voice, deep and harsh against her lips. “We’ll make it.” One hand stroking her hair. “Together.”

“Together.”

Into this scary, wonderful journey that had destroyed so many others. Not us, she vowed as Fox’s kiss drew her under. Not us. Fox was hers and she would fight for him.

They were lying on the bench press, Molly on top of Fox, his semi-hard cock still inside her and her breasts pressed against his chest when the woman in his arms stirred. “Beautiful and hot, and mine,” he said, nipping at her jaw, fucking adoring her for claiming him with such sweet fierceness. “Not like property.”

“Sorry.” She shifted to rub her cheek against his, her movements making Fox groan as ripples of lazy pleasure rolled over his body. “I know you don’t think of me that way—and I don’t consider you a lapdog.”

Taking a page out of her book, he ran his hand over her hair. “Sorry. You might have noticed I have a temper.”

He felt her lips curve against his skin, and her response had him smiling even before she said, “I can handle it.”

 “I’ll never say no to being handled by you, Miss Molly.”

“How’s this?” Rising to sit up on his body, she ran her nails over the flat disks of his nipples, a mischievous light in her eyes.

He arched into it. “More.”

She gave him more, her expression telling him she was indulging herself as much as him. “Thank you,” she said after he drew her down to demand a slow kiss that elicited a very female, very delicious sound from her throat.

He chuckled. “I’m that good?”

Sticking out her tongue at him, she tugged playfully at his lip ring. “You do have serious moves”—another tug when his grin deepened—“but I meant for the trust fund. I probably won’t use it for my day-to-day life, but it means a lot to know it’s there.”

She pressed her fingers to his lips when he would’ve spoken, his scowl heavy. “I’ll use it for things like dresses for going to industry shindigs with you, stuff I could never afford on my own and that I’ll need as your date.”

Fox wasn’t happy, but he also knew his woman. “Yeah, okay, but you should know I plan to spoil you. Let me.” He’d never had anyone to lavish with his attention, no one who was his.

Molly bit down on her lower lip. “I’ve never been spoiled before.” A soft confession. “I’m willing to permit it on a trial basis.”

He caught the hint of a smile, knew he was being teased. “Come here, Miss Smart-ass Molly.”

 Kissing and petting her when she laughed but obeyed, he knew that though they’d managed to survive this test, there’d be others that cut deeper, threatened to do more damage. The only thing that might take them through to the other side was the fact they were both proving to be stubborn as anything, willing to fight claw and tooth for what they wanted.

It was on the fourth day that Molly found herself on her own for the first time since her arrival in the country, Fox heading off to attend a meeting about the band’s upcoming tour. “I’m picking up David along the way,” he told her in the garage. “His place isn’t too far from here—we’ll walk over to it one of these days, force him to cook us a gourmet meal.”

“Deal.” Smiling, she fixed his baseball cap so it didn’t shadow those incredible eyes. “Have fun and don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“You have my number, and the numbers of the other guys?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, I don’t think I gave you Tawanna’s.” He took out his phone and sent her a message with the number. “She’s my assistant.” A grin. “My real one.”

“Ha-ha.” She kissed him simply because it made her happy to touch him, to taste his smile. “I’ll probably stay in and go through my e-mails, work on the test pages for my first possible clients.” They’d learned about her via the ads she’d taken out in a few places, then contacted her through the website Charlotte had helped her set up.

So now Anne Webster was (almost) no longer unemployed, Anne being her middle name. If Molly Webster did end up in the media, she didn’t want people to start contacting her for prurient reasons. Anne would quietly go about her work while Molly lived in the spotlight with the sexiest man on the planet.

She kissed that man good-bye, then went up to the poolside patio and knuckled down to work—after first sending Charlotte an e-mail asking her best friend to message her when she was awake and free so they could catch up.

She was just finishing the second set of sample pages when the intercom chimed. Startled out of her thoughts, she walked over to the security panel after realizing someone had pressed the buzzer out by the gate. The chime came again before she’d figured out whether or not to answer. Noah, Abe, and David were all at the meeting with Fox, as was Thea, and Molly didn’t know anyone else in the city.

“Hey, Fox!” came a husky female voice through the speakers. “It’s Kit. I know you’re back! Wake up!”

Molly’s hand froze in front of the Answer button. Who was Kit?

“Hurry up! The damn paps are on my tail.” An infuriated sound. “Dammit, now I’ll have to find the remote you ga—Got it!”

Molly saw the security light turn green as the gate opened, a black sports car with its top down zipping up the drive to halt in front of the house a short time later. Whoever this woman was who had a remote to the gate, she was about to hit the front door—and she might well have a key for that, too.

Taking a deep breath and hoping against hope she wasn’t about to surprise a former lover Fox hadn’t yet told about his new relationship, Molly walked downstairs to open the door. The gorgeous woman on the other side, her skin a deep golden bronze, had a tumbling mass of midnight hair and a flawless body encased in a sleek emerald sheath.

Pushing her Audrey Hepburn sunglasses to the top of her head to reveal striking amber eyes, she blinked. “You’re not the cleaning service.” Lines marring her forehead. “If you’re a stalker, you’re a very not-crazy-looking one.” The statement was followed by the most miniscule pause. “Love the top.” The other woman gestured at the peach top with a softly-tied bow at the throat that Molly had paired with white capris.

 “Are you a stalker?” Molly managed to interject. “A very fashion-conscious one?” The words were meant to give her time to think—because there were few people who wouldn’t recognize the woman on her doorstep.

“Fox wishes.” A snort. “I’m Kathleen Devigny.”

Molly smiled through the nerves going haywire inside her. “I know—I saw Last Flight.” The low-budget adaptation of a heartbreaking novel set in the war-torn Congo had become a global blockbuster, catapulting the actress into Oscar contention. “I’m Molly.”

Kathleen gave her a dazzling smile, perfect and false. “So, Fox isn’t home?”

“No.” Unsure what claim the A-list actress had on Fox, Molly felt acutely uncomfortable—but this was her home now and she had to claim it. “Would you like to come in?”

Kathleen’s hesitation was slight. “Fox’s science-fiction machine does make good coffee.”

 “You know how to use that thing?” Stepping back, Molly closed the door behind the other woman. “I haven’t managed to turn it on yet.”

Kathleen laughed, and it was a rich, warm sound, but instinct told Molly the actress was faking it. Not that Molly blamed her. If she and Fox— Molly cut herself off before she could obsess too far in what might be the totally wrong direction, and showed her size-zero guest up the hanging spiral staircase to the second level, Kathleen’s heels clicking on the honey-colored wood.