I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2) (21 page)

Mollie breathed out. “Mm-hmm, there is that. But as far as talking about it, I don’t even know what to think, much less what to say. I’m half eaten up with guilt, and half the happiest I’ve ever been. It’s confusing, to say the least.”

“Well, if you want my opinion…,” Riley said loudly.

“No,” Emma said. “Did you hear anyone say, ‘Riley, what’s your opinion?’ ”

“I like you way better than your sister,” Riley announced.

“Riley!” Julie exclaimed. “You don’t just say that to a person. And you’ve never even met her sister.”

“True. But I watched every single episode of the
Housewives
seasons she was on.”

“Yeah, because that’s the same thing,” Emma said.

“I know everyone thinks that Madison and Jackson were, like, a couple for the ages or whatever, but there was something shifty about that woman.”

“Riley.” This time Julie’s voice was gentler, but with a warning undertone. “You’re talking about her
sister.
”

“It’s all right,” Mollie said a little sadly. “Let’s just say the past few weeks have been eye-opening when it comes to Madison and Jackson’s relationship. It’s not quite the saint-and-sinner scenario I’d been led to believe. Not that it makes me love her less. I’m just…How the heck did I let myself get into something this complicated?”

“Could be worse,” Riley said, pointing her finger at Emma. “
This
one hooked up with a dude she once left at the altar.”

Emma batted Riley’s hand away. “You know full well I didn’t leave him at the altar.”

“I know. But you should tell it that way. It’s better,” Riley insisted.

“Anyway,” Julie said, shifting her attention back to Mollie, “does your sister know that you, um…”

“That I’m having a fling with her ex? No. That’s a
big
no,” Mollie said, taking a gulp of wine.

Emma Sinclair was studying her closely. “It’s more than a fling, though, isn’t it?”

To Mollie’s absolute and utter horror, her eyes filled with tears.

It was so much more than a fling. If she thought she’d been in love with Jackson Burke at twenty, that had been nothing compared to what she felt for him now. He was someone she could talk to. Laugh with. The sex was amazing, true, but she could no longer let herself pretend that Jackson Burke was a glorified booty call.

He was more. He’d always been so much more.

“Oh, sweetie,” Riley said, rubbing Mollie’s arm. “Does he know?”

Mollie shook her head. “We haven’t really talked about what we are. Where we’re going. I mean, we can’t go
anywhere,
right? It would be the end of holidays with my sister. The end of
everything
with my sister. I can’t even imagine the level of awkwardness. And if the press finds out he’s hooked up with me…”

“But maybe that doesn’t matter as much now, right?” Julie said. “I mean, he’s still famous, but that will fade the longer he’s out of the spotlight. He may never be able to go completely unrecognized, but eventually the media will find someone else to focus on.”

“Julie’s right,” Emma said. “It won’t be easy at first, but if you two wanted to make it work, eventually people would accept it.”

“I don’t know,” Mollie said. “Even if I could mend things with my sister, wouldn’t I always be the girl who broke up America’s golden couple, or whatever?”

“Probably,” Riley said bluntly, in what Mollie was quickly realizing was her default manner of speaking. “So then I guess you’ll have to decide.”

“Decide what?” Mollie asked warily.

“If loving him is worth it.”

By the time they’d seen the last of their friends out the door—the last being a chattering Penelope who wanted to know what Jackson had been thinking on every play he’d ever called—Mollie was exhausted.

While she’d enjoyed herself thoroughly, there’d been a lot to keep straight. Names, who worked where, who was partnered with whom.

That, and Riley’s question, which continued to weigh heavily on her.

Was loving Jackson worth it? Was it worth the risk of her reputation? Of
his
? Or the risk of losing her sister? God, she couldn’t even think about that.

And perhaps most gut-wrenching of all, w
as it worth breaking her heart?

Because not once had Jackson implied they were anything other than friends with benefits. And temporary ones, at that. She knew that he cared about her—she’d never doubted that. But in terms of him feeling the big L? There’d been no hint. No sign. No talk of tomorrow, much less next week or a year from now. And certainly no talk of forever.

Give the guy a break. He’s recently divorced, and this thing with you is new.

They had plenty of time to figure it out.

Jackson closed the door, and the slight downward dip of his chin told her he was as exhausted as she was.

He flicked his hazel eyes to hers. “Clean up tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she agreed enthusiastically. “I’m so glad you suggested renting the stemware. Otherwise I think my entire weekend would have been spent hand-washing all those glasses.”

He winked. “Not my first rodeo.”

Just like that, Mollie’s happy elation vanished. Of course it wasn’t his first time hosting. He’d done this dozens of times. Probably hundreds of times.

Just when she was starting to feel like a grown-up, patting herself on the back for having a cocktail party worthy of
Sex and the City,
he had to go and remind her that this was nothing new to him. He’d done it before. With Madison.

Mollie closed her eyes. How many of these moments would there be if they tried to make this work? How many of his firsts would have been not just with another woman but with Mollie’s sister?

Could she survive it?

Could
they
?

Jackson’s hands slipped around her waist as he pulled her toward him. “Hey now. Where’d you go?”

Mollie opened her eyes and lightly rested her hands on his shoulders before sliding them down slightly over his biceps, relishing the feel of his muscles beneath her palms.

He’d showered and shaved before the party, and while she was putting on her makeup he’d asked her to pick something for him to wear. The casual intimacy of the request had made her heart squeeze.

She’d chosen dark jeans and a black dress shirt, which he’d rolled up to his elbows within seconds of putting it on. He looked both casual and urbane, cowboy and city, and breathtakingly handsome.

“Why is your body so perfect?” she whispered, sliding her hands all the way down his arms, then moving to his torso, letting her fingers explore the hard planes of his abs through the fabric of his shirt.

“Funny, I’ve been thinking the same thing about you all night.” His hands glided from her waist to her back, his fingers touching the skin exposed by the straps of her dress, and Mollie shivered.

“Cold?” he murmured.

She shook her head.

“Ah. Let’s see what happens if I…” His words trailed off as he dipped his head to her neck, slipping beneath her hair to drag his lips along the column of her neck.

She gave a soft moan as his mouth opened there, softly sucking the skin between his teeth before soothing it with his tongue.

“I love the way you taste right here,” he said, his hand coming up and trailing a finger along the side of her neck. “You taste clean. And sweet. You taste like Mollie.”

Mollie’s eyes closed as he dipped his head again, pressing hot kisses to the sensitive skin of her neck.

He pulled back, framing her face with his big hands, waiting until she opened her eyes and met his gaze.

“Come to bed with me.”

She smiled. “Haven’t I been doing that for weeks now?”

Instead of responding, he moved his hands over hers restlessly, a little urgently.

Something was wrong. She could
feel
it.

“Jackson—”

His mouth closed over hers, his lips nudging hers open so his tongue could sweep in and claim hers. It was a possessive kiss. His hands were greedy as they cupped her face, his fingers moving back to tangle in her hair.

Jackson caught her bottom lip between his teeth and Mollie moaned, giving herself over to him. Whatever they needed to figure out—and there was plenty—they’d figure it out tomorrow.

He kissed her for long minutes, claiming her mouth—claiming
her
—until he finally gentled the kiss and then pulled back. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his jaw tense, as though suddenly doubting the wisdom of his own plan.

Mollie didn’t give him a chance to change his mind. She reached for his hand and led him toward the bedroom. She headed toward her room, but he pulled her to a stop outside the master bedroom.

Mollie glanced back in confusion. They’d always slept in
her
room. She didn’t know if it was because that was where their first time had happened or because the guest room had a temporary element that they’d both needed, but she’d never slept with him in his room. Not for sleep, not for sex.

Tonight, however, Jackson apparently planned to change that.

He tugged her into his bedroom, hooking a hand behind her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw before he kissed her softly, lingeringly. As though he was trying to tell her something.

But what?

Moving toward the bed, they left the lamps off, letting the twinkling lights of the Manhattan skyline guide them.

Jackson gently turned her around so that her back was to him, and she gasped when she felt his lips brush the exposed skin of her back as he kissed around the straps of her dress.

His hands skimmed down her body, finding the hem of her dress and dragging it slowly upward. Mollie lifted her arms over her head as he pulled it off and tossed it aside, so she stood only in panties and her high heels before him.

“Mollie,” he whispered, resting a warm palm against her stomach, pulling her back against his chest as he buried his face in her neck.

His hands slid up to cup her breasts, his fingers toying with her nipples, and she cried out his name.

“Yes,” he whispered, giving her a light pinch before turning her around to face him.

Together they removed his clothes, kissing in between buttons.

Mollie sat on the bed to remove her shoes before scooting back to the middle as Jackson set a knee on the bed and followed her.

He held her eyes as he hooked his fingers along the waistband of her thong, tossing it aside so they were both naked and longing.

Jackson’s eyes locked on hers, and Mollie lay back as he climbed over her. Her breath caught at the intensity in his gaze—at the intensity she felt.

He levered his weight to one elbow, lifting the other hand so that his fingers could touch her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“What are we doing?” she whispered.

He gave her a sexy smile. “Well, we haven’t done anything yet.”

“No, I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” His fingers slid down to her chin, holding her face steady so she had no choice but to look at him. “What we’re doing—it’s been crazy. Maybe a little reckless. And I sure as hell didn’t see it coming. But I can tell you that these past weeks, they’ve been…they made me feel alive. More alive than I’ve felt in a long time.”

Mollie’s eyes watered. As far as declarations went, it was a long way from
I love you,
but it made her heart soar all the same.

She pulled his mouth down to hers, pouring into her kiss all of the emotion that she couldn’t put into words.

He kissed her back, slowly and hungrily.

He slipped a knee between hers, and Mollie spread her legs as he settled his weight between them.

His cock nudged her opening, and he groaned. “Baby—”

“Now,” she whispered against his cheek. “Please, now.”

“But—”

She dug her nails into his back to urge him forward. Tonight she didn’t need extended foreplay. She didn’t want to tease and play. She wanted him. Had been ready for him since the moment he’d reached for her.

He tilted his head back to watch her face as he slid into her, his jaw clenching when he was settled all the way inside her.

Jackson dipped his head forward to her shoulder as he began to move. Mollie wrapped her legs around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust, their pace riding that fine line between urgent and patient, as they struggled to make it last even as they reached for ecstasy.

His hips began to move faster as he lifted her arms over her head, pinning her upper arms to the bed with his palms before dipping his head and running his tongue along the tip of her breast.

Panting, Mollie pulled her legs up, arching toward him, knowing she was making desperate pleading sounds but too far gone to be embarrassed. She went over the edge with a keening cry, her body stiffening in exquisite pleasure as her orgasm overtook her.

Moments later, Jackson’s fingertips bit into the flesh of her arms as he slammed into her and came with a roar against her neck.

He collapsed onto her, his hands sliding up slightly until they were palm to palm. Jackson’s fingers linked with hers as their pounding hearts began to slow, their pulses returning to normal.

Mollie closed her eyes, losing herself in the perfection of the moment. Of feeling the man she loved completely spent. Completely hers. At least for tonight.

Eventually he pulled away, gently coaxing her around so that her head found the pillow. He pulled the covers over both of them as she snuggled against his chest, her fingertips resting above his heart.

Jackson kissed her forehead. “Night, baby.”

His voice was sleepy, and Mollie felt a stab of panic. Panic that they’d go to sleep, and when they woke up, this would all be over—before she had a chance to say what was on her mind.

In her heart.

“Jackson.” She tilted her head up. “Jackson.”

“Hmm?” He didn’t open his eyes.

Maybe that was better. Easier. “Jackson, I just…I need you to know. I think that I—”

His eyes opened, locking on hers, and her words broke off in confusion at the turmoil she saw there.

He lifted a hand and touched her cheek gently before resting his fingers over her mouth. “Don’t, Mollie. Please don’t.”

She swallowed dryly.

He held her gaze a moment longer, his eyes begging her to understand. She did. She really did. And yet she wanted to ask him to be brave. Wanted him to—

His eyes drifted shut again, and although Mollie’s brain tried to tell her that he was just tired, her heart knew better.

Her heart knew that he had just rejected her love.