Hurt the One You Love Read online

  "Who’s they?" Molly demanded. "Preachers? Advice gurus?"

  "People like that."

  "You listen to that bullshit?"

  Elliott shook his head. "No."

  "Well, you listen to me, you hear me? You can't hold on to hate. It will eat you up inside and leave you full of holes you can't ever fill." Molly sighed, closing her eyes and laying back on the pillows. "You're a man all grown, now, and you still don't have anyone. Nobody to love you, or for you to love."

  "I love you, Molly. And you love me."

  She cracked open an eye and frowned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

  "What if I just got a dog?"

  "Dogs are stinking, slobbering bags of unconditional love, but they are not a substitute for a person. Damn, I miss Harry." She shifted around again with a grimace.

  "Do you need some meds?"

  "No. I'm fine. Just tired of being in this bed. Tired of feeling this way, though I guess on the days I don't, I'm so out of my goddamned mind I'd have no idea about it, so why should I care?" Her smile was even smaller this time, quick as a flash of light in a shadowed pond.

  They sat for a few minutes after that without saying much. She was fading, though not quite asleep. She wouldn't let go of Elliott's hand.

  "How do you stop hating?" he asked quietly, finally, when he thought maybe she'd at last drifted into dreams.

  She hadn't. She didn't open her eyes, but she did answer him. "You try really, really hard."

  "What if you can't?"

  "Find something to love," she told him with a barely tight squeeze of his fingers. "You won't have time to do so much hating. You should find someone, Elliott."

  He thought of Simone, of course he did. "I'm seeing someone."

  He'd surprised her enough to open her eyes, though only for a second or so. "Since when?"

  "Since . . . not long. It's not very serious."

  Molly's laugh turned hoarse. "The fact you even mention her at all means it's at least a little serious, sonny. You still making your lists?"

  "Yes. Sometimes."

  "Would she be on one?"

  He didn't answer right away. "Yes."

  "You think you found someone to love. That's good for you. I'm happy."

  Simone had worked her way inside him, that was for sure. "How would I know?"

  "If it scares the shit out of you, that's probably a good way to tell. You scared?" Molly's breathing slowed, and her head settled harder into the pillows. Her grip loosened and, finally, fell away.

  "Yeah. Absolutely."

  She laughed, a little, though he was certain she'd at last fallen asleep. She'd held on to at least a tiny bit of consciousness, though, because when he got up to go, her lips moved. She spoke on a whisper, but he still heard every word.

  "We might spend our whole lives dying," Molly muttered, "but that doesn't mean it's not worth every single second."

  Chapter 28

  Elliott's hands.

  His mouth.

  Oh, god, that lean, tight belly. Those long, long legs. His jaw. His thighs.

  Simone was in a fever of remembering every part of his body. It felt like a fever, literally, her body temperature a few degrees above normal as she tossed and turned in her bed and tried to convince herself not to get in a cab and go to his house.

  He'd open the door for her, if she knocked. He would let her inside. He would let her put her mouth on him, all over him, and at the thought of that, another shivery series of shudders trembled through her. There'd been things in her life that Simone had desired more than she wanted to take Elliott's cock in her mouth, but just then she couldn't think of a single one.

  She'd taken a cold shower, but all that had done was get her nipples erect and her clit pulsing. Now, flopping back against her pillows with the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead to dry her off before she got dressed, all she could do was close her eyes and think about pushing him back onto his bed and climbing up his body to center her pussy over his eager, waiting mouth.

  The air on her body felt so amazing, she didn't want to put on clothes. Simone ran her hands over her breasts, tweaking the nipples even harder. It had been a month since the last time she and Elliott had fucked, a couple weeks since that first date when she'd lost her mind and said good night without fucking his brains out.

  They had another date tonight.

  "You did the right thing," she told herself aloud as her hands roamed over her body. "You're loco for this dude. You need to slow it down or you're going to end up on his doorstep at three in the morning with mascara running down your cheeks, sobbing and asking him why he doesn't love you."

  That had been one of Aidan's ex-girlfriends, the one from just before he and Simone had started dating. The woman had shown up at his apartment without fail two Saturday nights out of the month, drunk and morose and a hot mess. Simone hadn't been jealous or threatened by her, but damn, had she learned a lesson about self-esteem and the importance of maintaining it.

  She'd vowed she would never be that girl. She knew for a straight-up fact that Elliott was an emotionally unavailable mess. She could fuck him until they were both raw. She could let him take her out to dinner and concerts. She could even spend hours with him on the phone, laughing so hard she thought she might pass out from lack of air.

  But she could not, would not fall in love with him.

  She hadn't lied to him when she'd said she didn't think fucking him meant she had to be his girlfriend, or even that she wanted to be. That had been true for almost every relationship she'd ever had after that first awful freshman year of college love affair that had burned her so deep and hard she'd thought she'd never get over it. She had, of course, and in far less time than she'd thought she could. But she'd learned a valuable lesson about herself and sex, and what was important to her in a relationship. It had never meant that she'd sworn off love or never had another boyfriend. It meant she'd learned to be careful about losing herself inside of someone else.

  She was going to lose herself in Elliott Anderson if she wasn't careful.

  "You did the right thing," she whispered as her hand slid between her legs, teasing her clit. The other one twisted a nipple until she let out a long, slow sigh. "You like him too much. . . ."

  Ridiculous. Like him too much to fuck him? They'd already fucked, and spectacularly, she might add, and there was absolutely no reason for her to hold herself back from him. Why? Because he'd done a turnaround and decided that she was the one woman who could make him want to date more than a couple times? Because she'd changed his mind?

  Because she was special?

  Danger, danger, her mind said. Be careful, her heart said, but her hotsy-totsy pussy didn't want to listen.

  Simone groaned, edging herself close to climax but easing off. Tonight, she and Elliott were going to the movies. They'd be in the dark. He'd probably hold her hand and do that insane thing with his thumb that would have her on the edge of her seat the entire time, unable to concentrate. By the time he brought her home, her panties would be soaked. She'd want to attack him, and why shouldn't she, other than she was trying her best to keep herself from falling head-over-heels in love with him.

  "Shit," Simone said aloud.

  If she came now, she might be able to resist her urges later. It seemed like a good plan. At least with her hand moving between her legs, fingers dipping deep inside for a moment before circling her clit, she could convince herself that this rapidly approaching orgasm wasn't a luxury but a necessity. To keep herself on track. Not that they would never fuck again . . . oh, god, no. The idea of that was too horrible for her to bear.

  She couldn't possibly go much longer without riding Elliott's thick, perfect cock. Or his mouth. Or his hand.

  "Oh, fuck," she breathed, edging again. Everything became the feeling of her hand between her legs, her fingers pinching her nipple, the soft sheets under her ass as she writhed. Imagining him. Wishing her hands were his. "Oh, fuck, I want him. I want him. I wa