I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)

by Lauren Layne

  And perhaps most gut-wrenching of all, was 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.

  Chapter 27

  When Mollie woke up the next morning, there was no Jackson beside her. No bracing smell of brewing coffee.

  A glance at the clock showed her why. It was well past ten, and she’d learned that Jackson rarely slept past six. He’d likely made coffee hours ago.

  She sat up and blinked groggily before crawling to the side of the bed. A quick scan showed that he’d picked up her dress and panties, setting both on the dresser.

  Grabbing her clothes, she slowly opened the door of the bedroom. “Jackson?”

  Nothing.

  She darted across the hallway to the safety of her own bedroom, where she pulled on underwear, sweatpants, and an ancient tank top.

  Heading toward the kitchen, she made a beeline for the coffeepot, smiling when she saw he’d set it so that all she needed to do was hit the button to get a fresh pot brewing.

  She was grabbing the water pitcher from the fridge when she saw his note on the counter.

  At the gym. Tried to wait for you, but you looked dead.

  J

  Mollie rolled her eyes. Well, that was romantic.

  While she waited for the coffee to finish, she headed into the living room, where she’d left her cell on an end table.

  She gave a happy little jump when she saw a text message from Grace Malone, the wife of one of Jackson’s colleagues. Mollie had assumed when the group had insisted on getting her number last night it had just been out of politeness, but Grace had invited her to their girls’ night on Thursday. Mollie quickly typed back a happy acceptance.

  Her smile faded when she saw the next text. It was from her sister.

  Hey. Sorry I’ve been busy lately. Forgive? Also, I’m in NYC again—new club flew me and the other Housewives gals up to attend their opening. Not busy till later though. Can u do lunch? I want to catch up with my baby sister!

  Mollie blew out a breath. On the plus side, at least Madison had told her about being in New York this time.

  On the other hand . . .

  It was time.

  No, it was past time to tell her sister what was going on. Especially after last night. Mollie had almost dropped the L-word, for God’s sake. She owed Madison the truth. Her sister deserved it.

  Plus Jackson deserved more than to be someone’s dirty little secret.

  And Mollie deserved . . . She didn’t know what she deserved. She only knew that the secrecy was tearing a hole in her heart.

  Still, this was not going to be an easy meeting—not at all.

  Sure. What time? she texted back.

  Madison’s response was immediate. Noon. Fig & Olive on Lex?

  See you there, Mollie texted.

  Setting the phone aside, she waited for a surge of panic, but felt oddly numb.

  Deep breaths. You can do this. You’re an adult—accept the consequences of your actions.

  An hour and a half later, Mollie had had too many cups of coffee and was jittery, her palms sweaty, as she walked the few blocks to the restaurant.

  Mollie blew out a long breath before she opened the front door to Fig & Olive and stepped inside. For the hundredth time she wondered if she should have warned Jackson what she was doing—that she was coming clean.

  Ultimately she’d decided against it. What she and Jackson had was important, but right now it was about her and Maddie.

  About the fact that she loved Jackson and her sister. And they both deserved more than lies.

  Mollie stepped into the restaurant.

  “Hi,” she said, forcing a smile at the hostess. “I’m meeting someone here at noon. Madison Burke?”

  The young woman glanced down at her screen. “Yes, of course. The rest of your party is already seated.”

  Great. Fantastic. So much for having a few more minutes to gather her thoughts, to figure out how to tell her sister that she’d been bumping uglies with her ex.

  Madison grinned in greeting as Mollie approached, her smile so warm and friendly that Mollie’s stomach twisted in dread.

  “Oh my gosh, that blue dress looks amazing on you,” Madison gushed, standing to give her a quick hug.

  “Hey, Maddie,” Mollie said, hugging her sister maybe a moment longer than necessary.

  “Ugh, that nickname makes me feel twelve again,” Madison said as they sat down. “Although, come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind going back in time. I found another gray hair today. And I’m officially addicted to Botox.” Madison gestured at a mostly perfect forehead.

  Mollie smiled. “You look beautiful. You are beautiful.”

  “You’re twenty-eight,” Madison grumbled as she picked up her menu. “Just wait until you’re creeping up on thirty-five. Stuff’s sagging and creasing all over the place. Soon the boy who was once wildly in love with you becomes the man who can’t wait to boot you out of his office.”

  Mollie paused in the process of taking a sip of her water. She’d thought she’d have at least a bit longer before the conversation turned to Jackson, but then, that was the entire reason Madison was in New York. For Madison, it was always about Jackson. Even though they were no longer married, he was still front and center.

  “Did Jackson mention that I dropped by?” Madison asked, shutting her menu and leaning forward.

  Mollie took another sip of her water. “He mentioned it.”

  Madison shook her head. “It was weird. It’s like he’s intentionally holding himself back from me. For a minute there we were connecting. We felt like the old Madison and Jackson. But then he kept look
ing at his phone, acting all weird.” She shrugged. “Any ideas?”

  The server came over to get their drink order, and Madison caught Mollie’s eye and lifted an eyebrow. “Wine?”

  Hell yes, she could go for some wine. Or tequila shots. Whatever would make this conversation easier for both of them.

  They both ordered a glass of white wine, and Madison picked up the conversation the second the waitress moved away. “So talk to me, Mollie. What the heck is going on over there? I thought he and I had reached a turning point when I made him dinner, but now I can’t get him to even respond to my text messages, much less meet with me. I keep thinking if I could just get him into bed, maybe have some angry-ex sex, he’ll remember how good things are.”

  “Why do you want him back?” Mollie blurted out.

  Madison blinked, looking surprised at the question. As though it should be obvious, she replied, “He’s my husband.”

  “He’s your ex-husband. You filed the papers.”

  Madison rubbed her temple, as though the conversation was beneath her. “Mollie, we’ve been over this, like, a hundred times. You don’t understand—”

  “Right, I know, I’ve never had a big love like yours and Jackson’s,” Mollie said, not bothering to keep the impatience out of her voice. “But it’s just . . . hell, Mad, did you cheat on him? Early on, I mean, before everything got broken?”

  Madison’s head snapped up. “What?”

  Mollie fiddled with her fork but forced herself to continue despite her sister’s furious gaze.

  “Jackson said he saw you. With Tyler. Said you guys were . . . you know.”

  The anger had faded from Madison’s eyes and been replaced with cold shock. “He told you that?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “That ass,” Madison hissed. “That was his and my private—” She broke off as the server brought their wine over.

  “Ready to order?” their perky waitress asked with a wide smile.

  “A few more minutes,” Madison said, her voice all sugar as she smiled prettily at the server. “Still deciding.”

  Mollie felt a tiny stab of disdain. Had Madison always been like this? So easily able to go from furious to sugary sweet? And had the sweet part ever been genuine?