I Wish You Were Mine Page 44


She let out a sinful moan. “Yes. There. Like that. Faster.”

Jackson was all too happy to comply, releasing one of her wrists so that his arm could hook around the back of her knee, holding her open as he circled his hips.

Mollie—his beautiful, responsive Mollie—came apart beneath him with a sharp cry as she contracted around his throbbing cock.

He thrust once more, hard, before he came with a roar he didn’t even recognize as his own. Jackson’s free hand clenched in her hair, probably too hard, but he was far beyond rational thought as he emptied himself inside her.

As Jackson’s brain slowly returned to earth, he registered her fingers absently stroking the outside of his hip, her lips lightly brushing against his shoulder, her heart pounding against his chest.

He forced himself to leverage himself upward, looking down into her face as he wrestled with two equally momentous feelings.

One: it had quite possibly been the hottest, most necessary sex of his life.

Two: it had happened with Mollie.

Mollie.

She gave him a bittersweet smile, as though reading his thoughts. “Want to make a pact to not talk about it until tomorrow?”

He pulled a strand of hair off her face where it had stuck to her lips. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Jackson shifted to his side, pulling her back against his front, marveling at the way her long body lined up perfectly with his.

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers before folding his hand in hers and tucking it under her chin.

True to their pact, neither said a word about what had just transpired.

But they thought about it. Long, long into the night.

Chapter 18

When Mollie woke up, she was entirely focused on the most basic of human needs.

Coffee.

She opened one eye. Then the other. Sniffed, just to be sure. Yep, definitely coffee.

Mollie rolled onto her back, wondering why she felt so deliciously loose and…She bolted upright in bed and glanced down.

Naked. She was naked.

Last night came back in a rush of images and sighs and…

Mollie flopped back on the bed, throwing her arms over her head, burrowing her face in the crook of her elbow.

She’d slept with Jackson Burke. She’d slept with her ex-brother-in-law, and the sex had been positively epic.

Which normally would be worth celebrating. Hell, normally it would be worth repeating.

But Mollie felt a stab of regret, hot and low in her stomach. How could she ever face her sister again? Hell, how could she face Jackson?

“Well, that’s a pretty view.”

Her eyes flew open. Jackson. Very slowly she lowered her arms to tug the sheet upward, heart pounding as she wondered how they were going to play this.

She sat up, tucking the sheet under her armpits, as Jackson walked into the room. He looked far better than any man had a right to, considering he was wearing a basic white tee and blue checked pajama pants, but that could be because her mind was addled by the two coffee cups in his hands. Mind-blowing sex, plus coffee in bed the next morning? The man was a keeper.

Well, your sister certainly thought so.

Mollie’s arm jerked just as she was about to take the coffee from his hand, and he lifted an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course!” she said brightly, wrapping two hands around the mug.

She took a sip and sighed. Caffeine. Then she glanced up at him. “Actually, no,” she blurted out. “Everything is not okay.”

He sat on the bed beside her, giving Mollie a steady look over the rim of his own coffee cup as he took a sip.

She bit her lip and stalled. “Are you okay?”

He gave a slight smile. “After last night, it’s hard not to be a hell of a lot better than okay.”

“Right. Because of the sex.”

She glanced down at her cup again, watching the steam rise, because it was easier than making eye contact.

“Mollie. Jesus. Just spit out whatever’s got you all muddled.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” she said with a little groan. “It’s complicated on so many levels. I slept with one of my best friends. Complicated. I slept with my roommate. Complicated. I slept with my sister’s ex-husband…is there even a word for that?”

She glanced up on that last one as her voice went all shrill.

“All true,” he said quietly. “But maybe we start by focusing on the parts that aren’t complicated. Did you enjoy it?”

She looked away.

“Mollie.”

“Yes, of course I enjoyed it,” she said, meeting his eyes once again. “You know I did.”

His eyes seemed to darken. “Do you want it to happen again?”

“It’s not that simple—”

“So make it that simple, Mollie. Either you want to do it again or you don’t.”

She took a sip of coffee. “I wouldn’t mind.”

His eyebrows lifted. “If that’s the most enthusiasm I’m getting, I want a do-over. See, in my fantasies, this conversation involves you begging me to do you again.”

Mollie giggled. “Do me?”

“Is that not what the kids are saying these days?”

Mollie burst out laughing, some of the tension easing.

“How about ‘shag’? ‘Coitus’?”

She punched his shoulder. “Say the word ‘coitus’ again, and I pretty much guarantee you’ll never get any. Ever. From anyone.”

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