Chapter 9

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Jake was tired of second guessing and usually talking himself out of everything. He knew what he wanted now. Thanks to the crystals, he had clarity, focus and a real place to put it. Maybe Molly was catching up to feeling it, too. It felt like she was, but he had to be sure.

He stepped behind her. "Tell me, Molly. What do you want to do today?" He moved her hair off her neck. He wanted to find that sweet spot again. The one that made her tremble. He started to lower his lips to her neck as the skinny kid behind the table watched with interest. He didn't care, really. Most action the poor guy saw in his entire adult life, if the "bikini inspector" T-shirt was anything to go by.

"Uh, Jake?"

He lifted his head slightly, a little annoyed. He would never find that spot if she broke his concentration. "What?"

"Your hand's on my butt."

"It is?" He hadn't realized it. He had no objection, though. And she didn't seem to, considering she was kind of pressing back against it.

"Could you move it?"

"Sure." He slid it down her hip, letting his fingers graze the skin that met the bottom of her skirt.

"No. I mean..." Her voice faded to nothing as he slid his fingers back and forth just below her hem.

"What do you mean?" He laughed softly, close to her ear. She wanted him, too, he could feel it in how she pressed against him, see it in that blush that seemed to be all over her body. That was the best thing about an Irish girl. They could never lie with any success.

"How much is that?" She gestured at the kid.

The kid shook himself to attention. "What?"

"The trash can, the trash can!" She snapped her fingers loudly.

So she wanted to get out of here as bad as he did. Good.

The kid cleared his throat. "It's technically a vintage collectible wastebasket with only one printing after the initial release in 1968 and--"

"How much?" she growled.

"Fifty?" the kid gasped, looking scared now.

Molly dug in her pocket, jostling slightly against Jake. He didn't mind. The friction was very nice. In fact, if she'd lean back a little more, it would be amazing.

"There." She slapped her hand on the table and stepped to the side.

Jake smiled. Finally! "Are you ready to go?"

Molly didn't answer, staring at him, wide-eyed as she stepped backward down the aisle. She stepped wrong, however, nearly dropping her trashcan.

He rushed forward, catching her around the waist. "Careful," he said with a laugh. "Don't want to destroy the merchandise."

She straightened and pushed his hands away. "Actually, that's exactly what I want to do. Come on."

He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but it sounded kind of hot. Maybe "destroying the merchandise" could be their own personal euphemism.

She turned away, muttering to herself. He stayed right on her heels. "Can't believe it... got me thinking this stuff is... I must be crazy!"

He caught her arm, pulling her back against him as they neared the end of the tables. "You're not crazy and neither am I. This is the clearest I've ever been."

"Jake!" She pulled away again, then turned to him, hissing. "You were just groping my butt in a cafeteria full of church ladies. In what universe is that not crazy?"

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