Wrong Man, Right Kiss. Red Garnier
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eluded her, and her thoughts kept drifting toward Garrett. His black hair, those onyx eyes with the sooty lashes, and oh, God, the way he’d kissed her two weeks ago. She remembered that kiss so perfectly that she’d been reliving it nightly, in bed, as she futilely tried to fall asleep.
“I think I’d like to be a spinster,” Molly had told Kate that evening as they stood out on the terrace of the Gage mansion, gazing into the brightly lit masquerade party transpiring inside the sprawling 10,000-square-foot home.
Kate had obviously laughed. “Molls. Why on earth would you say that?” She’d lovingly tousled her hair, which Molly had worn loose for the evening. “You’re beautiful and sweet and any man would be lucky to have you.”
“It’s just that no man seems to live up to my expectations.”
With a dreary sigh, Molly showed Kate the picture of the three Gage brothers she carried in her iPhone. It featured the gray-eyed, responsible Landon, the dark-haired, honorable Garrett and of course the sex god playboy, Julian. As her favorite Gage brother, Julian was everything that a good husband was not.
“I know what you mean,” Kate said softly, staring longingly at the picture.
It couldn’t have been easy for her to play both mother and father to Molly while she herself had been barely a teen. Although Eleanor Gage had been a stand-in mother for both of them, she was a stern woman, and as one did when running on survival instincts, both girls had tried to put on their best behavior and their whitest smiles with the person who’d given them food and shelter. But when alone, Molly would seek out Kate’s warmth and support like she’d seek out a pillow and blanket. Especially during those lonely times when Julian had been sent away. Sometimes Molly even wondered if she wasn’t to blame for Kate’s lack of a love life, a husband and a family of her own. The thought made her stomach feel heavy.
“You deserve someone, too,” Molly whispered.
Kate smiled brightly and winked at her. “Then let’s go find one,” she teased and rushed for the double doors that led inside, but Molly groaned and stayed back, loathing her stupid costume.
She had been dared by Julian to dress as a tavern wench tonight. And of course he knew Molly could never ignore a dare that he delivered. Alas, now here she was. In an outfit so tight she was barely able to breathe, which showcased her breasts in a way that made her feel as if she’d just stepped out of a porn magazine.
She had never felt so exposed in her life, and as soon as she saw Julian, probably dressed like some evil creature, for sure, Molly was going to tell him off for being such a cad. “I’ll catch up in a sec,” she lied to Kate before her sister disappeared inside.
Instead of following, she edged farther out on the terrace, where it was dark and the air was fresh from the gardens and nobody would see her in her corseted wench costume.
A silhouette by the banister caught her attention.
Someone was coming toward her. Zorro? she wondered. Or was it the Phantom of the Opera? Or maybe it was Westley, the dangerously sexy man from Molly’s favorite movie, The Princess Bride.
Whoever he was, he was hot. Clad all in black: black cape, a cloth mask covering both his hair and the upper part of his face. Black boots. And that smile. It just had to be Julian. Nobody smiled like Julian. He smiled like a wolf and made you want to be the lamb he was going to eat; it was very, very bizarre how he pulled that off.
She suddenly caught his glimmering eyes straying to her prominent cleavage and she felt something hot coil inside her belly.
“Well, well, well...” he murmured as he continued to approach.
His voice was thick and slurred, and she wondered how much he’d drunk tonight. He didn’t sound like himself at all.
He smiled again and her stomach tightened under his appreciation.
He had a drink in his hand, and when he raised it to his lips, watching her with those eerily sparkling eyes, she noticed that his glass was empty. He cursed under his breath, shook his head and swung around to leave, murmuring something about being crazy.
She frowned when she realized she would not be getting to tell him off just yet. “You’re going to leave me all alone out here?” she playfully called after him.
He paused for a moment, then turned, set the cup aside, and started for her with sudden purpose. With each long, determined stride, he dived deeper into the shadows Molly had been trying to hide herself in.
He was not smiling now. Something in his approach, in the tension in his shoulders, made her heart begin to pound. And pound faster. Faster. The way he moved, the way he frightened her...
It couldn’t possibly, possibly, be Julian.
She began, “What—?”
He pulled her up against him, so fast that her lips flew open and she sucked in a shocked mouthful of air. In one fluid move, he pinned her hands at her sides, then bent his face to hers, mask to mask. Molly had stopped breathing.
It was too dark to make out this stranger’s eye color, but she could still sense that gaze like a laser beam boring into her being. Her heart faltered when he made a sound, low and completely unrecognizable—a rumbling groan that was so hot and so male her toes curled.
His lips touched hers. The lightest of touches. Just a graze. Like the tiny spark that sets loose a wildfire. And Molly exploded with a rush of wanting so powerful it scorched every inch of her insides, infusing every particle of her being with heat.
Her lips opened as though on their own, and her body melted under his as a strange, embarrassing little moan escaped her. He seemed to like it, for his answering growl vibrated in her mouth as his lips latched firmly over hers.
He kissed her so possessively, a tornado of pleasure shot through her veins and her heartbeat skyrocketed to the ozone layer. His fingers bit into her buttocks as he dragged her up against him. Closer. Closest. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth with a groan of pleasure.
She tasted wine and immediately felt drunk on him. High on him. Wild for him. She was lost to a staggering rush of sensations as their mouths devoured each other with wet, greedy licks and suckles, her skin screaming with delicious agony as his hand stroked up her arms, caressing her. She had never felt so alive, so connected to another human being, as though her body were an extension of his larger, stronger one.
It was like being caught in a deluge of rain, and now she could feel his desire pour over her. Swimming in sensations, she felt the warm metal of a ring sliding upward as he stroked her shoulders, and her eyes jerked open when she realized this man kissing her, this man was...
Garrett?
How could it be?
He rarely put so much as a finger on her, he was so protective. Julian was always pawing her and she loved the little ways his touch made her feel. But while Garrett rarely reached out for her, when he did, Molly always felt this thick, smooth ring anywhere he put his hand. When he grasped her hand in his—ring. When he petted the top of her head—ring. When he secured her elbow to keep her from falling—aha. Ring.
Now Garrett was kissing her as if he was eating her alive, his ring almost like a brand across her skin as his hand greedily stroked her shoulders, then suddenly her throat, down her collarbone, to the top swell of her breast, tracing the shape of her.
He mumbled something, but she could hardly hear him through the roaring of her own heartbeat, his voice sounding alien and lust-roughened as he fiercely bent down to lick the exposed skin.
Rocked with the realization that this man, untouchable to her like all the Gages had been for her entire life, had thrown all caution to the wind and was kissing her as if his life depended on it left her knees in such a weakened state that she clung to him even while she tried to edge back to steal a quick peek at his ring.
The platinum band glinted in the shadows as he fondled her breasts, and yes, it was the same one-of-a-kind ring Garrett always wore,