Her curves pressed to him, woke up his body and then some. The passion that exploded from her damn near took Mo’s breath away. This was it, his instincts said, the real Molly, the one she took great pains to hide. The grounded country girl, the good mother, the loyal sister he respected and was attracted to. The passionate woman he couldn’t resist. And, with everything he was, he wanted her. But she pulled away suddenly, her hands pressed to her cheeks, her eyes round with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. “I don’t know why I did that. I’m really sorry.” Then she turned on her heel and ran up the stairs, leaving him standing and staring in the middle of her kitchen. He felt as if a tank had run him over. He wanted to go after her, wanted to convince her that they both needed more of what they’d just shared. But he was pretty sure her speedy retreat upstairs meant no.
