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Once, Again, Always

Page 79

by Amanda Gayle

Molly suppressed a shudder as a thrill rode her pulse. He leaned close, mouth hovering beside her ear as the entire length of his body pressed against her back.

“Let me help,” he offered, voice low. Molly physically jerked as the muscles along her spine snapped tense. The predatory smile he gave her in the mirror forced her to clutch the countertop.

And then he pulled back, having secured her braided bun with a hair tie.

With only the smallest quake in her voice, Molly appraised his work. “That’s no better than when I did it.”

She almost wished he would surge forward again. She wanted to be touched, by him, and desperately. She wanted to gasp, to keen, to feel the hard edge of the countertop digging into her back and not mind in the slightest because of whatever wicked and wonderful things his hands and mouth could do.

Instead, he leaned against the wall behind them and crossed his arms.

“No, it’s not. But I did get to push the boundaries of that schedule of yours, so I’m counting it as a success.”

Molly fought a smirk, but it forced its way to her face regardless. Half-heartedly, she tried smoothing down some of the frizz around her ears.

“Stop fighting it,” Aster said, watching her intently. “I think you look beautiful.”

“I think you’re biased.”

“I am.”

She turned to face him, cramped in the small space. “I’m nervous.”

“To see those degenerates I call my friends? Impossible.”

“Evidently, I’m friends with them too. And I haven’t seen them all at once before. So far, they’ve been . . . a lot . . . to handle individually. Except for Bentley, he seemed lovely.”

Aster cracked a grin. “Since this evening was your suggestion, you are welcome to make any changes to the agenda that you wish. But if it’s any comfort, you handle them beautifully. Having your own sidekicks there usually seems to even the playing field some too. Plus, if you run out of steam and want to call it a night, just send me the signal.”

“What, do we have a code word to escape unwanted social situations?” She was half joking. She didn’t know if she considered those sorts of couples to be codependent, adorable, or codependently adorable.

With a wink, Aster said, “Just a little sign. Tap three times. It’s become a very handy request for help, especially at boring parties.”

“Is that . . .” A memory—a recent one, one she knew—rose in her mind. “You did that at the bar, after that terrible dinner for Roy’s promotion, didn’t you?” It had been so distinct, the way he’d tapped three separate times, a desperate plea in his expression.

Aster’s face twisted. “I needed help. And I didn’t know how else to ask for it. A bit silly, I know. But desperate times, as they say.”

With a thump behind her breastbone, Molly reached out to catch his hand in hers, entwining their fingers as they stood together. “Eli would be very disappointed in us if we were late because we got all gloomy.”

She had only a split second to register Aster’s growing smirk before he ducked, leaned forward, and hoisted her up over his shoulder. “We better get going then.”

“Oh my God, oh my God—Aster, I—” Laughter stole Molly’s protests as she swatted his back, dangling helplessly over his shoulder.

He paused at the hooks by the front door. “Could you grab the keys for me, please?”

“I can think of much easier ways to get them,” Molly said, giving him another playful smack before reaching to snatch the car keys from their designated hook.

Once she had them, Aster lowered her back over his shoulder, her body pressed firmly to his as she slid to the floor. He leaned, and her back made contact with the wall, pinned by his sturdy form.

With an unsteady breath, she held the keys up between them, their soft jangle ricocheting around their suddenly silent apartment. Only the keys, their breathing, and an echo inside Molly’s head existed in that moment. Not quite a memory, but a sensation so familiar she knew it even in the absence of everything else.

“You know,” she started. “The closest I come to remembering is with you.”

Aster plucked the keys from her fingers. “Is that so?”

No man should ever look so good while also looking so smug.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” She couldn’t help but match his smile. “I’m just trying to be honest.”