I Wish You Were Mine
Page 66

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.