Saving 6: Boys of Tommen #3

OCTOBER 3RD 2004

AOIFE

“THIS IS A BAD IDEA, Molloy. A really fucking bad idea. Jesus, how did I let you talk me into even considering this?”

Standing in his driveway, with my hand firmly clamped in his, Joey glared at the bricks of his house like he was sizing up a mortal enemy.

“Every instinct I have inside of me is demanding that I get you as far away from shithole as possible.”

My heart broke.

This wasn’t easy for him.

In fact, this was quite possibly the most riled up I’d seen him behave in a while.

It was unsettling, and I offered him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not.” He shook his head sadly. “You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for with those people.”

I looked up at him. “Those people?”

Nodding grimly, he glared down at me. “My parents aren’t your parents, Molloy. They won’t welcome you with a hug and a roast dinner.” A visible shiver racked through his tall frame, and then he was moving, turning away from his house, and doing his very best to take me with him. “Fuck it. Forget it. Let’s just go back to your place.”

“I’m doing this, Joey,” I warned, digging my heels into the gravel. “It’s been almost nine months. I’m meeting them whether you take me inside there or I go in alone.”

“For fuck’s sake!” He blew out a harsh breath. “Why is this such a big deal for you?”

I didn’t flinch or shy away when I said, “Because I want to look that bastard in the eyes and show him that you have someone ready and willing to go to war both with you and for you.”

“Jesus.” Running a hand through his hair, he muttered, “Now you’re definitely not going inside that house.”

“You won’t talk about what happens inside of that house, and I don’t push,” I stated calmly. “I never push you, Joe, even when I see the bruises, even when you keep me completely in the dark, and especially when every fiber of my being demands that I do something to protect you.”

His eyes flashed with fear. “You swore—”

“I know and I won’t call them,” I hurried to assure him, remembering the epic fight we had the last time he showed up to school with a bloody lip and I made the mistake of asking if we should call the Gards. “I told you I wouldn’t, and I won’t.”

Releasing a shaky breath, he whispered, “Okay.”

“But I will stand beside you,” I told him, reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck. “I will do that, Joey, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop me.”

He stared back at me for the longest time before relenting with a frustrated growl.

“It doesn’t matter what they say, or how they react,” I whispered, reaching up to press a kiss to the curve of his jaw. “I won’t run.”

“He might be home,” he warned, tone thick now. “He might…“

“I won’t run,” I vowed, stretching up to kiss him. “I’m not leaving you, and there’s nothing he can say or do to change that.”

“Don’t make me do this, Aoif,” he whispered then, tone begging.

His plea hurt because he used my first name, and that meant that he was reaching out to tell me just how serious he was.

“It’s going to happen someday,” I whispered back, stroking his nose with mine, desperate to give him comfort. “It might as well be this day.”

After a long moment, the imploring look in his green eyes morphed into reluctant acceptance. “Stay with me,” he told me, as he kept a death grip on my hand. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Fear washed over me.

Jesus, what the hell was he living with?

Sucking in a steadying breath, I followed Joey inside, not stopping until he had walked us past the outdated living room, through the small, run-down hallway, and into the kitchen.

“Is he here?” were the first words he greeted his mother with.

Daydreaming at the kitchen table, his mother’s head snapped up, and she stared wild-eyed for a moment before schooling her features. “Who?”

“Dad,” came Joey’s flat voice.

“No,” his mother replied softly. “He’s, not back yet.”

I wasn’t sure if the shudder that racked through Joey’s frame was one of relief or fearful anticipation, but I didn’t have much time to think about it, because he quickly pulled me forward.

“Mam, this is Aoife Molloy,” he announced, keeping a tight hold on my hand. “Aoife, this is my mam; Marie Lynch.”

“Uh, hey?” I offered a small wave with my free hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Lynch.”

“I remember you.” Recognition flashed in her big blue eyes. “You were the girl with Joey’s school bag.”

“Yeah.” Nodding, I smiled. “That’s me.”

Joey roughly cleared his throat before adding, “Aoife is my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend,” his mother repeated with a small shake of her head. “I didn’t know that you were in a relationship with anyone.”

“Yeah.” Joey shrugged his stance defensive. “Well, now you know.”

“Now I know,” his mother said, eyeing me carefully. “This is your girlfriend.”

“For his sins,” I joked, but she didn’t laugh.

Ah crap.

Quickly sobering my features, I added, “It really is lovely to see you again, Mrs. Lynch. I’ve heard a lot about you.” God, I was such a bullshitter. “Joey speaks very highly of you.”

“It would be nice if I could say the same,” she said, before adding quietly, “But Joey doesn’t speak about you at all.”

“Mam,” Joey said in a warning tone.

A small tremor rolled through his body, and I gave his hand a gentle squeeze, desperate to give him reassurance.

That this was okay.

That I could exist in both of his worlds.

That I wouldn’t run.

My act of support was awarded with a smile, as his green eyes locked on mine, searching my face for something he would never find.

He was looking for my trepidation.

It didn’t exist.

“When did you both meet?” she asked then, dragging my attention back to her.

“First year,” I told her. “We’ve been in the same class ever since.”

Her eyes widened. “So, this… relationship has been going on for a long time?”

“Well, we’ve been friends for—“ I began to say, but Joey quickly interrupted when he said, “you could say that.”

“And is it serious?” She looked at her son. “Are you serious about her?”

“You could say that,” was all he replied, but it caused my heart to hammer with pure unadulterated joy.

He wasn’t denying how he felt.

He didn’t play it down or brush it under the rug.

‘You could say that’ was all but a declaration of love when it came to this boy.

“Mam!” a voice screamed from somewhere above us then. “He’s blocked the fucking toilet again.”

Startled, Mrs. Lynch literally jerked before releasing a small shudder. “Tadhg, mind your language, will you?” she called back. “We have company.”

“Like I give a crap,” came the voice again. “That dope of a son you call Oliver doesn’t seem to understand that he doesn’t need to use an entire toilet roll to wipe his hole.“

“Tadhg!” Mrs. Lynch shouted, but it was a pitiful attempt, sounding more like a defeated sigh, as she reached for her cigarettes. “I told you to mind your language.”

“Ollie plugged the toilet,” Tadhg shouted again. “And I need to take a—“

“I like to make sure I’m clean,” a younger male voice called out. “It’s high-gleam-ick.”

“It’s hygienic, not high-gleam-ick!” Tadhg screeched. “And you’ll be far from high-gleam-ick when I take a shit on your—“

“Jesus Christ, I’ll sort it,” Joey barked. Releasing my hand, he shook his head and moved for the hallway. “Anything to shut the pair of you up.”

“Sound, Joe,” I heard Tadhg call back.

“See,” I heard Ollie cheer. “Told you Joey would fix it.”

“I’ll be right down,” he called over his shoulder, while he bounded up the stairs. “Just give me two minutes to sort these spanners out.”

“You’re going to need more than two minutes,” Tadhg called back. “Ollie might be small, but he sent a man-sized salmon up the river. It’s blocked solid.”

“Fuck my life,” I heard Joey groan, as he disappeared up the staircase.

“Take your time,” I laughed. “I’ll wait.”

When he was gone, I remained by the fridge, feeling a little unsure of his mother and a lot unwelcome.

If I thought Joey was closed off, it was nothing compared to the woman in front of me.

“He doesn’t do much of that, you know,” Mrs. Lynch said, flicking her cigarette ash into the already overflowing ashtray in front of her. “At least not these days.”

“Much of what?” I replied evenly, unsure of what to make of the broken woman in front of me.

I wanted to hate her so bad for allowing Joey to suffer for as long as he had. Instead, all I felt in this moment was pity.

“Smile,” she clarified. “He doesn’t smile often.”

“He’s smiling a lot more lately,” I told her. “More than he used to, at least.”

Offering me a weary smile of her own, she exhaled softly. “You must mean a great deal to my son.”

“I hope so.”

“You must.” With a small shrug of her frail shoulders, Mrs. Lynch took a deep drag from her cigarette. “He’s never brought a girl home before now.”

That statement should have thrilled me, knowing that I was the only girl that Joey had brought home, but to be honest, why would he want to bring anyone here?

Certainly not to meet the parents, that was for damn sure.

“Yeah, well, he means a lot of me, too,” I told her.

She arched a brow. “A lot?”

“An awful lot,” I clarified, unwilling to be ashamed of how I felt. “I’m in love with your son, Mrs. Lynch.”

“I thought you might be.” Something that looked a lot like sadness flickered in her blue eyes then. “I could see it written all over your face when you walked into the room with him.” She blew out a shaky breath before asking, “Are you being safe?”

I just stared at her, unsure of what to say.

“Is he protecting you?” she pushed.

“I’m on the pill,” I heard myself admit. “But we’re not sleeping together.”

She didn’t look like she believed me. “Be safe,” she replied. “Protect yourself if he won’t.”

“He always keeps me safe, Mrs. Lynch,” I told her, needing her to know how epic her second born was. “Your son is an amazing person.”

“My son is a loose cannon,” she corrected sadly. “Just like his father was at that age.”

“Yeah, that’s not even close to being true,” I shot back heatedly, her words irking me. “Joey is nothing like your husband.”

Surprise filled her eyes.

“Yeah,” I bit out, staring right back at her. “I have eyes. I know what happens in this house.”

“You don’t know anything,” she whispered.

“I know a lot more than you think,” I shot back. “So don’t you dare tar Joey with the same brush as him.”

“I understand the need to defend him,” she whispered sadly. “I understand the temptation. I was your age once. I understand all about the temptation that comes with loving a boy like my son. He’s handsome, and talented, headstrong and protective, wild and reckless. But just remember that protectiveness can switch to possessiveness in the blink of an eye. Headstrong can switch to commanding, and, well, recklessness can lead to more than just addiction.” She sucked on her cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke and asking, “You do know that don’t you?”

“Know what?”

She looked so sad when she said, “That my son has an ongoing battle with addiction.”

My heart plummeted.

“He used to,” I corrected, thinking about how good of a handle Joey had gotten on things since his slip back in September. “He’s okay now, though.”

“You don’t really believe that,” she replied softly. “Someone like my son, with the kind of habit that has been going on for as many years as it has, can’t make it go away overnight, and as powerful as first love may seem, it will never be strong enough to overcome his demons. He will never want you more than he wants his next fix, Aoife. That’s the sad truth of my son’s life.”

Instantly, my back was up. “You’re wrong.”

“I wish with all of my heart that I was,” she said. “But I know I’m not. It’s only one flick of the switch away at any given time. And if I could give you one piece of advice, it would be to run for cover before my son explodes like his father and you’re swallowed up in the riptide.”

Stunned, I gaped at the woman in front of me and just shook my head.

How could she think about her son like that?

How could she have so little faith in him?

“You know, I’m really trying hard to think of something diplomatic to say to you, but I’m coming up empty.” I shook my head, unable to hide my disgust. “How can you say that about your own flesh and blood? You’re supposed to be his mother.”

“I am his mother,” she agreed, weary. “And that’s how I know that he will break you.” A shiver racked through her slender frame. “He will chip away at your heart, gnawing and gouging at it, tearing away at it strip by strip, until there is nothing left. Until you are nothing. He will break you because that’s all he knows. It’s all he’s ever known.”

“He loves you,” I bit out, feeling my eyes burn with tears of devastation for the boy who kept me company at night. “So much, and you speak so badly about him.”

“I love my son, Aoife. I do.” Exhaling a cloud of smoke, she took another deep drag from her cigarette. “I have six children and make no mistake when I tell you that I love each one of them equally. But there’s only one of my children that frightens me. Only one of my children is the walking reincarnation of his father.”

Horrified, I shook my head. “Why are you telling me this?”

She looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Because nobody told me.”

“I managed to unclog the toilet,” Joey said then, re-joining us. “But you’re going to need to get someone to take a look at that cistern, and the piping behind the bowl, Mam,” he continued, moving to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “That leak is worse than ever and it’s starting to rot away at the floorboards beneath the lino in the bathroom.”

Grabbing a bottle of generic branded washing up liquid from the windowsill over the sink, he soaped up his hands, oblivious to his mother’s words of warning.

“If we don’t get a handle on it, it’s only a matter of time before the floorboards give way.” Shaking his hands, he reached for a tea towel. “I could try and replace the piping at the back, but it would be a patch-up job at best.”

“Thanks, Joey, I’ll get your father to have a look at it later this evening,” his mother replied.

“Why?” Joey shot back defensively. “He doesn’t know shit about plumbing. I’ve already told you what the problem is. Once I get paid on Friday, I can get the parts for you.”

“And I’ve told you that I appreciate your help, and your father will sort it when he comes home.”

“When he comes home?” Joey sneered, tossing the tea towel down. “You mean when he’s pissed off his head and falling through the door, looking for a warm body to either fuck or fight with?”

Moving to stand beside him, I slipped my hand into his, desperate to show him the support he needed.

“That’s enough, Joey,” Mrs. Lynch whispered. “I don’t want to—“

“Hear the truth?” He balked. “Well, you’re going to.“

“Fight,” his mother corrected. “I don’t want to fight.”

“What’s going on?” a soft voice said from the doorway, and I swung my gaze around to see Shannon standing there. “Is everything okay, Joe?”

“Everything’s grand, Shan,” he was quick to placate. “I was just—“

“About to show me your room,” I blurted out, unable to spend another second with his mother, but even more unwilling to run like I’d promised I wouldn’t.

Joey swung his surprised gaze on me. “I was?”

His mother watched him as he watched me, and I felt this swelling resentment build up inside of me on his behalf.

“Yeah.” Nodding, I squeezed his hand and smiled, letting his mother know that her words had fallen on deaf ears. I would only ever leave this boy if I was dragged from him kicking and screaming. “You were.”

I made a point of dutifully ignoring the decaying plaster on the walls, and the general dilapidated condition of their home, as I followed Joey up the staircase and straight into his bedroom.

The minute the door was closed, I watched as he twisted a key in the lock

“Don’t ask,” was all he muttered, when he dragged a chest of drawers across the room and set it in front of the locked door.

“I won’t,” I whispered, watching as he kept his back to me, with his head bowed, and his hands resting on the chest of drawers.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Be real here, Molloy.” He hissed out a pained breath, giving me his back. “My life is a fucking mess.”

Yeah, it was.

I couldn’t deny it.

Everything about this home and the people inside of it screamed messy.

Still, I chose to remain right here, playing with fire and willing to get burned. “Talk to me,” I instructed calmy. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“I’m mad,” he bit out, keeping his back to me. “I’m pissed the fuck off, Molloy.”

“With me?”

“Yes.”

“For making you bring me here?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Because you’re afraid you’ll blow up?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I replied calmly. “Then you be mad for as long as you need.”

Because I’m not going anywhere.

Quietly, I took in my surroundings, eyes wandering around the meticulously clean bedroom that housed a wardrobe, nightstand, chest of drawers, and a metal bunk bed with a double on the bottom and single on top.

Forcing myself to ignore several make-shift bunks scattered around his bedroom floor, I let my gaze land on the big-ass stereo in the corner of the room, and I honed in on it.

Flicking through a bunch of CDs, I waited until he was ready to talk it out.

After another five minutes, he was.

“I hate that you’ve been here,” he finally broke the silence by admitting.

“Because?”

“Because I don’t want your pity.”

Tough, it’s already yours. “Good,” I said instead. “Because you don’t have it.”

“What are you doing?”

“Putting some music on.” I slid my chosen disc, Damien Rice’s O album into the CD player, and then browsed through the listing on back of the case until I found the number of the track I wanted to play. Delicate. I pressed play and then I clicked the repeat button, knowing that this was exactly the song I wanted playing when I made my next move.

“Music? Seriously?” He swung around to glare at me. “What kind of game are you playing here, Molloy? It’s pretty fucking obvious I don’t live in a house we can hang out and listen to music in!”

“I know.” Breath hitching in my throat, I shakily reached for the hem of my t-shirt and tugged it over my head. “I’m not playing any games, Joe.” Then I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. “I swear.”

“Then what…” He shook his head, and I watched as a look of tormented confusion filled his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“It’s okay.” Unsnapping the button of my jeans, I pushed them down my legs, and then kicked them off, right along with my knock-off converse

His eyes burned with head and his nostrils flared. “Molloy.”

“It’s okay,” I repeated, slowly pushing my thong down until it landed with the rest of my clothes. “I want this.”

Joey stood, frozen as a statue, watching me as I walked over to his bed and sat down on the bottom bunk. “You want what?”

“I want you to have me,” I told him, heart hammering with nervous anticipation, as I lay naked on his bed. “All of me.”

“No.” He quickly shook his head, refuting my offer. “You don’t want this. Trust me – and especially not here.”

“Yes, Joey, I do,” I urged. “And it has to be here.”

He looked so lost when he choked out the word, “Why?”

“Because I want to put one good memory of this house in your head.”

“Molloy.” Raw emotion flashed in his eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want you to take my virginity, Joey,” I breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m offering it to you, right here, on this bed, in this house, just us.”

“I told you before,” he warned gruffly, running a hand through his hair. “The next time—“

“The next time that I begged you to fuck me, you wouldn’t say no.” Exhaling a shaky breath. “Yeah, I heard you, and here I am.” I patted the mattress. “So, are you going to make good on your promise, or do I really have to beg?”

“Fuck me.”

“Exactly, Joe,” I breathed. “Fuck me.”

I watched him watch me, his gaze trailing down my body. When his eyes locked on mine, I swear I saw something shift inside of him.

His lips tipped upwards, eyes returning to mine, asking me a million unspoken questions.

I answered them all with a small nod.

“Jesus, Molloy.” I watched as he reached a hand behind his back and dragged his shirt off, revealing a tanned, toned stomach, with the most gorgeous, indented v on his hips, and a glorious treasure trail of golden-brown hair that disappeared beneath his waistband. His arms were seared with permanent black ink; more visible to the naked eye than the perpetual mark he had carved inside of me.

My breath hitched in my throat when his hands moved to the button on his jeans, and I watched through hooded eyes as he pushed them down his legs and then kicked them off.

His green eyes were locked on mine as he stood before me, in only a pair of grey boxers, that couldn’t conceal his bulging erection.

“This isn’t one of your tv shows.” His tone was laced with heated warning as he closed the space between us. “This is real life, Molloy.” I felt the mattress dip and he moved to settle between my legs. “And in real life, it’s going to hurt.”

“Good.” I licked my lips and pulled up on my elbows to press a kiss to his neck. “I want the pain.”

Settling between my legs on his knees, Joey placed his hands on the curves of my hips and shook his head. “I can wait.”

“I thought you said that you wouldn’t try to talk me out of it?”

“Yeah, well, maybe I care enough to give it another shot,” he said thickly. “I mean it, though; I can wait. I don’t have any problem with waiting.”

“I know you can wait,” I agreed, sitting up so that our chests were flush together. “But I don’t want you to.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” I exhaled a ragged breath and nodded. “You’re what I want.”

His lips came down on mine, moving with such certainty, that I just laid there beneath him, my body alight with an illicit trepidation, because I was in no way naïve enough to believe that having him inside of my body wouldn’t hurt.

But I wanted this.

I wanted him.

His lips were everywhere; my neck, my breasts, my navel, between my legs.

Awakening that familiar yearning that I’d only known with him, I gave my body over to him, trusting him with the only thing that still remained mine, because God knew my heart was his.

“I don’t have anything,” I heard him growl a little while later, as he knelt between my quivering thighs, and rummaged through his wallet. “Fuck!” Hissing out a pained growl, he tossed his wallet across the room and swore like a sailor. “Jesus fucking Christ, this is not happening.” Looking a little devastated, he leaned back on his heels and glared at his naked dick like it had personally insulted him. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay, Joe, I’m on the pill,” I strangled out, reaching up to pull his face back to mine, desperate to have his skin on mine again. “It’s all good. I’m covered.”

“Molloy.” He looked at me with uncertainty. “I don’t.” Blowing out a ragged breath, he confessed, “I’ve never not used a condom.”

“Good.”

Reckless, I wrapped my arms around his neck and forced him to come with me as my back hit the mattress. “Then this is a first for you, too.”

Kissing me deeply, I felt his hand come around my thigh, as he hitched my leg around his waist, and settled in deeper between my legs.

I could feel his hard dick probing my wet folds, as he continued to fuck me with his tongue. His hand slipped between us then, guiding his erection to my entrance.

“Just relax, okay?” Joey whispered against my lips.

And then he pushed inside of my body with one sharp thrust of his hips.

And the pain that emerged from the act?

Oh, sweet merciful baby Jesus, the pain was horrendous.

Crying out against his lips, I felt the stem of tears prickling my eyes, as my entire body locked tight from the sheer shock of it all.

“It’s okay,” he coaxed, claiming my mouth with his once more, as he held perfectly still inside of me. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, nuzzling me with so much affection that I felt like I would drown in him. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Stroking his nose against mine, he leaned in close and pressed a kiss to where a tear was trickling down my cheek.

Inhaling a shaky breath, I wrapped my arms around his neck and clutched onto his big body for all I was worth.

Slowly, the pain began to subside, and the tight pressure eased up enough that he was able to move again.

With my legs spread open, he buried himself to the hilt inside of me, and the horrendous pain from moments before changed to a dull throb which grew stronger and more addictive with every thrust of his hips.

My cries had morphed to moans, and my hands moved wildly, touching bare inch of his skin, as he continued to ignite the most fantastic ripple of heat inside of core.

“Fuck me,” I heard myself croak out, urging him to chase after that amazing sensation that only grew with each thrust of his cock.

Every time he stopped, the flame would dim, and it was driving me close to madness.

Jerking my hips restlessly, I clawed at his hips, and tried to pull him closer. “Please, Joe.”

“Don’t beg,” he bit out. “You’re so tight, and I can feel you so much better without a condom … I’m trying really fucking hard not to cum, Molloy. Please don’t fucking beg me.”

Beyond reasoning, I grabbed the back of his head and dragged his face down to mine. “Don’t you dare cum yet.” Biting at his bottom lip, “I hissed. “Fuck me, Joe, fuck me hard and fast.”

“Jesus,” he rasped, plunging his tongue into my mouth, as his hips bucked wildly against my inner thighs, as he stretched me to the point of pain.

If the hurling ever failed Joey Lynch, he would make a mighty fine porn star.

The boy certainly fucked like one.

Reveling in the sensations he evoked from my body, I shook and jerked beneath him, feeling my legs tremble uncontrollably, as the familiar roll of pleasure threatened to wash over me.

“I’m coming,” I cried out, shivering violently as my entire frame clamped up in ecstasy when he pushed me over the ledge with the most amazing thrust of his hips.

Clenching my eyes shut, I shuddered and shook beneath him, as he upped his pace, fucking me so hard that the headboard clattered loudly against his bedroom wall.

“I’m going to cum,” he groaned, hips still thrusting almost manically. “Tell me if you want me to pull out.“

“Don’t you dare,” I groaned, reaching around to grab his ass and drag him in deeper. “Stay in me.”

“You sure – ah fuck!” A flood of heat washed through me then as he released the sexiest, guttural groan I’d ever heard in my entire life.

He was emptying himself inside of me, I realized, and the sensation caused several mini ripples of pleasure to wash over me.

“Jesus,” Joey panted above me, breathing hard and fast, as he looked down at where our bodies were still joined. “Are you okay?” Breathless, he leaned heavily on one arm, while using the other to push my hair out of my face. “You good, Molloy?”

“I think so?” I nodded weakly as my body continued to tremble beneath his. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Nodding, he leaned in and kissed me. “I’m good.”

I could feel him hardening inside of me again and I tensed. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m not,” he laughed, still a little breathless, as he slowly pulled out. “It just happens. I can’t help it.”

“Lovely,” I replied and then groaned when my gaze fell on the blood smeared all over my thighs and his dick and pubic hair. “That’s not embarrassing at all.”

“Huh.” He grinned back at me. “I’ve never taking anyone’s virginity before.”

“And you’ll never take anyone else’s,” I warned him. “That’s your lot, Lynch. Your first, last, and only virgin. You just signed your dick away in a blood oath, buddy.”

“You’re so strange.” He threw his head back and laughed. “I love it.”

“You mean you love me,” I teased, grinning up at him.

“Yeah, Molloy.” His eyes burned with sincerity when he said, “That’s exactly what I mean.”

Finally!