I didn’t even see him drop his trousers. Before I can catch my breath, he rears up and inside me. His thrusts are fast and deep—a man on a mission—and I’m there to take everything he has to give.
Again, a sweet ache detonates, and I come even harder than before with him buried deep inside me. It’s a throbbing pleasure that has me digging my nails into his flesh as the orgasm catapults through me.
“Rachel—fuck—” He goes rigid, suspended right there on the edge of release.
Overwhelmed by the emotions and sensations vying for my attention, I hold onto him tighter, giving him everything I have as he arches up into me. Tremors course through him as he climaxes long and hard.
Sated and trembling, he slips out of me, then we’re sliding down the length of the wall, our bodies entangled, our breathing ragged. Unable to find the words, I hold his head to my chest until my heart rate slows and my breathing calms.
Quietly, he gets to his feet before reaching for my hand to pull me to mine. He pauses to grab the monitor, and a pang hits my chest, and I wonder why I never saw it before—how amazing this man is.
I follow him upstairs, releasing his hand to check in on Molly before joining him in his room. He leads me to his bed. When we lay down, he pulls me into him and wraps me in his arms. The beating of his heart lulls me into oblivion.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
RACHEL
I wake in the early morning hours, unable to fall back to sleep. Olly is sprawled out on his stomach, one leg hitched over mine, his arm around my waist. I stare at him in wonder for a few silent moments. His breathing is heavy, but I’m still careful as I free myself from him.
I creep in to check on Molly, who is now sprawled at the opposite end of the bed. I pull the duvet back over her, and then I grab my bag before slipping out.
Once I’ve relieved myself in the bathroom across the hall, I turn on the shower and strip out of my t-shirt. Under the spray and the steam, I allow my mind to wander.
Before I had Molly, I was only ever concerned about what I could get for myself. That all changed when I had her. I want her to have the best of everything, of course, but not at the same cost as me. I want her to understand the difference between wanting and needing something. To wait for something worth having. Not to be bombarded with material items and hoards of toys. It’s why whenever she gets a new toy, we always donate one to a charity shop. My parents probably still have a loft full of toys they pacified me with over the years, and truth be told, if any of them held any sentimental meaning, I would’ve swallowed my pride and asked for them to pass it down to Molly.
Sometimes nostalgia overcomes me when I think of my grandmother and how she was the best of us. It fills me with longing, grief that Molly will likely never know that kind of love and affection from my parents. Maybe they’ll be different for her, kinder, offer her more of their time rather than their money.
But I don’t want her to suffer the emotional neglect I did. And it’s only now—being a mother myself—that I see how my childhood was unhealthy. It’s why Nan said no to my frivolous requests. And it’s why, even in her absence, I still feel her presence. I want to make her proud.
And then there’s Olly. I’m not blind—I’ve often thought him handsome in ayou-can’t-touch-mekind of way. Like one of those gifts Nan denied me for my own good. Yet here we are.
He broke down my barriers effortlessly and without mercy. I’ve never known anyone like him. And yet I see him at war with a past, a childhood I could never understand. It’s not lost on me, as close as we are becoming, that there are things he keeps buried. And I think it’s what’s stopping me from falling for him completely. It’s not only my heart in his hands now—it’s Molly’s, too.
OLLY
Before I even open my eyes, I know Rachel isn't in my bed. I stretch and blink, checking the time. It's still early.
She shattered me last night when she admitted to being alone for Molly’s birth. My dislike for Marcus is growing, and I hate that he has that power over me. Rachel puts on a good front thatit is what it is, but I saw the hurt in her eyes—even if she tried to play it off.
Marcus has issues, but then, don't we all? I'm no saint. I've done things I'm not proud of, but when Rachel looks at me, she sees me without judgment, and I don't want that to change. I have things from my past I haven't opened up about—not to anyone, not even in therapy.
I don't know what good talking about it will do; it won't change what happened. It won't bring me redemption for what I didn't do. Other than family and my therapist, she's the only other person who knows about me pulling Lottie from the house fire.
I had a carnal need for her last night. It was beyond anything I've experienced before, and I know where she's concerned, I'm already a lost cause.
I check the guest room first. Molly is still fast asleep. How can someone so little take up so much space? The sound of the shower beckons me to the bathroom. I knock on it once upon entering, not wanting to scare Rachel.
She looks through the glass partition and smiles when she sees me. "Morning," she says.
"Morning. Do you want me to wash your back?"
She looks at the door and then back to me. "Lock the door, though. Molly will be up any minute."
I obey, drop my bottoms, then climb into the shower with her. Taking the sponge from her hand, I wash her back and kiss her neck. We swap places, and she does the same to me. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you last night?" I ask.
"Not at all. It was epic," she says, kissing my shoulder.
I turn, kiss her forehead, pull her into my arms. "I don't have to be at the gym until later this afternoon. How about we go for a walk with Buster along the river? They have swans—would Molly like to go feed them?"
