“I have been feeling a bit neglected,” she said on a rasp of breath.

“Poor pretty baby.” Careful of her sensitized flesh, he shifted her gently until she was reclining fully on the part of the panel that had no raised switches. Creamy and lush, she was a work of art, one for his personal and very private perusal. “Did you know I have video recording equipment in here?”

Molly’s chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm. “What?”

“Yeah, sometimes it helps to watch the way my fingers move on the strings.” He rocked into her to her soft moan. “Maybe I should turn it on—it might help me refine my technique to watch my fingers move on you.”

Molly’s spine arched up in a sweet curve, her body caressing his in a rush of liquid heat.

“Beautiful,” he murmured and used his forefinger to stroke the slippery nub of her clit exactly as his Molly liked.

Giving a shocked little cry, she came a second time.

“I think,” he murmured after her eyes opened, her body honey in his arms, “you like the idea of making your own sex tape.” He loved how she always cuddled up against him after sex, his personal armful of woman. “Naughty Molly.”

“We are not making a sex tape.” It was a breathless warning. “The next thing you know, it’ll be on the Internet.”

“What if I promise to erase it after a thorough viewing to review my technique?”

“Do I look like I was born yesterday?”

 “I love it when you blush.” The pink flush made him want to taste, and because she was his, he leaned down and laved his tongue over her shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to practice my technique on you.”

He would’ve touched her again between the legs, but she pushed away his hand. “Too sensitive.”

Shifting his hand to her thigh instead, he petted her slow and easy until she didn’t repudiate his next caress of her clit. He kept each stroke featherlight, his kisses on her throat unhurried, building a song, note by carefully chosen note, until her body reached the right melody.

“My beautiful Molly.” Who had fought for him.

Putting together some food after their sexual play, Molly took the plate out to where Fox sprawled at the table by the pool. He’d changed into the cutoff sweatpants he often wore while exercising, his upper body gleaming under the moonlight, the sky midnight blue and scattered with stars.

“I like this robe,” he murmured, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger when she put the food on the table. “I like what’s inside it even more.” His hand lightly cupping her breast, he drew her down for a kiss that felt as affectionate as it was sensual.

Body and heart both melting at the way he touched her, Molly took a seat opposite him, sipping at a cup of chocolate-mint tea while he cleared his plate. “More?” she asked, but he shook his head, his expression unreadable. “What’s wrong?”

“Come sit in my lap.”

Having missed him all day, she didn’t hesitate to obey the order.

“Thanks,” he said, his hand on the bare skin of her thigh.

“For cuddling?” She kissed his jaw. “Careful or your bad boy image will never recover.”

“No, smart-ass.” A squeeze of her hip. “For caring enough to hunt me down.” He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. “Kinda nice to know you’ll come knocking if I go into a bad place.”

Molly hurt for him that he hadn’t expected his “girl” to come knocking. It told her far more about the damage done to him in childhood than any other words he could’ve spoken. “I don’t know what your definition is of a relationship,” she said, her tone gentle, “but mine includes not ignoring it when something’s clearly eating at you.”

Sitting up so she could look him in the eye, she stroked his nape. “Why did you blow up this afternoon? Talk to me.”

“If I don’t?” The balmy night breeze blew a few strands of darkest brown across his face, the moment capturing his wildness and rough male beauty so exquisitely she wished she had a camera.

“If you clam up”—she put on a severe expression—“I’ll just have to tie you down and torture you with nefarious tricks until you spill.”

The barest hint of a smile. “Nefarious tricks, huh? Give me details.”

“Never.” Tracing his jaw as she became aware he was absently tapping music against her thigh, she said, “You know how you’re so protective?”

A gathering scowl. “You complaining?”

 “I was going to say I feel the same way about you.” It scared her how much he meant to her, but that fear stood no chance against the visceral power of the love in her heart. “Let me take care of you, too.”

The silent music went still.

“You should be safe in our home,” he said at last. “You shouldn’t have to fight to get inside, shouldn’t have to deal with those fucking bastards screaming at you, watching you.”

Molly wanted to kick herself—she’d just pointed out how protective he was of her. Of course he’d react badly to the idea that she might feel threatened in any way. “I feel so safe with you,” she whispered. “More than I’ve ever felt, even before the scandal.” To no one had she ever been this important, this precious, worth protecting. “Those photographers? They’re annoyances; gnats. I know I get the deer-in-the-headlights look sometimes, but that’s because it’s all new. I’ll get used to it.”

Fox’s hand clenched on her thigh. “Why should you have to get used to it?” It was a growl. “I want to make music—it’s what I’ve always wanted. When did wanting that mean people have a right to invade our privacy?”

“It’s not fair,” Molly said, “but if we allow that to grind us down, we allow them to win. I’d rather we just live our lives, because one thing is for certain—you and I, we aren’t going to break.” It was a promise.

 “No, we’re not.” Closing a strong hand gently around her throat, he ran his thumb over her pulse point. “But if one of those parasites ever pulls the kind of shit with you that they tried to pull with me today, all bets are off. I will destroy him.”

 “Don’t do anything that’ll get you thrown in jail,” she said, looking directly into his eyes so he’d know she was dead serious. “You leave me and I will never forgive you.”

Fox’s thumb went motionless against her pulse. “You mean that.”

“You know what my parents did,” she said in answer, her mind roiling with memories of her father’s ugly crimes and of her mother’s alcoholism. “Their choices left me alone and nearly broken. I’m trusting you not to do the same thing to me.” It was the biggest trust she’d ever given in her life, and her voice shook with the sheer, unrelenting weight of it.

Fox held the intimate eye contact as he spoke. “You’re more important to me than any pap. I’ll sic the lawyers on them—and I’ll tell the overpriced sharks to bite hard.”

Swallowing the knot in her throat, she touched her fingers to his lips. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for not being an ass.” He gathered her close, and they sat there for a long time, listening to the late-night wind whisper through the trees around the property, the waterfall of the infinity pool a peaceful murmur in the background.

“Tell me about Charlotte,” he said some time later.

“Charlie? Why?”

“She’s your family like the band’s mine. I want to know her.”

Yes, her rock star understood her. In ways no one else ever had. “We met on the first day of nursery school,” she said, his heartbeat strong under her palm. “I remember her giving me her pail in the sandbox so I could build a giant sandcastle. Then she ran around and made sure no one disturbed my creation.”

Her lips curved. “That’s who Charlie is in a nutshell—sweet and generous and loyal.” A woman who deserved a man who understood and cherished the treasure in his arms. “She’s so honest and kind, I’d worry about her, but Charlie sees people for who they are.” Though Molly wished her friend’s innocence about the world hadn’t been shattered as it had been.