I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)(30)

Mollie’s breathing quickened just a little, and he felt a surge of male satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to suddenly be struggling to get enough air.

What the hell are you doing? This is Mollie. She’s far too young for you. And you can’t actually want—

But he did want.

Jackson couldn’t explain it, but right now he wanted nothing more than to put his hands on her. He wanted to lower his mouth, and—

There was a knock at the door.

Mollie jumped back a full foot, and Jackson bit back an oath.

“Yeah. What?”

The door opened a crack and Madison poked her head in. “Is everything okay? I just wanted to say that I can leave if you don’t want—”

She broke off, and the look of wide-eyed innocence she’d probably been perfecting in the mirror all day vanished for a split second as her gaze traveled between Mollie and Jackson.

Jackson had to give credit where it was due—though Madison’s gaze hardened briefly, almost immediately she recovered the sweet wounded-doe routine perfectly.

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” she whispered.

“Sure you don’t,” Jackson said, tossing his tie on the bed and shrugging out of his suit jacket. “I didn’t answer your phone calls, so you’ve upped your game and shown up at my f*cking house. Good on you. You’ve got me. So let’s have it. What do you want, Madison?”

“I just want to talk to you,” Madison said, clasping her hands together and stepping into the room with a pleading look. “One dinner. Please.”

He closed his eyes. “If I do this—if I share a damn meal with you—then will you back off? You’ll quit with the calls, the texts…no more surprise drop-bys?”

She hesitated and then nodded once. “If that’s what you want…yeah, I’ll back off. I just need you to hear me out.”

Jackson ran a hand through his hair. A part of him wanted to tell her to get the hell out, but the other part of him remembered how much he’d once cared for her. Hell, was he no better than Mollie? Clinging too hard to a memory of a Madison that no longer existed? Had maybe never existed? And did he really want to be the * who couldn’t manage to sit through one dinner and hear someone out?

“Fine,” he muttered as he strode toward the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

Madison gave a quick sigh of relief before she turned on her heel and headed toward the kitchen, chattering happily about the new short rib recipe she’d perfected.

Jackson started to follow her out into the hallway, only to turn back at the last moment and glance at Mollie, who hadn’t moved.

“Coming?” he asked.

She pressed her lips together nervously before shaking her head. “I—my stomach’s bugging me a little. I think I’m going to lie down. See if it passes.”

Oh, hell no. “Molls—”

His ex-wife’s hand found his arm, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from rudely shaking her off. “She said she has a stomachache,” Madison said. “Let it go.”

Jackson ignored Madison, keeping his eyes trained on Mollie. She gave him an encouraging little smile, but it seemed forced. He searched her face, looking for any trace of the breathy, turned-on woman he’d seen before Madison’s knock had ruined the moment, but he saw only friendly familiarity. Which, once, had been enough. Once, the easiness of their relationship had been his rock. His center.

But now…did he now want more?

Hell.

Madison tugged more insistently on his arm. This time he did shake his ex-wife free. He was long past letting her lead him around.

He opened his mouth to say…what, exactly?

But then Mollie broke eye contact and he knew the moment was gone, although what the hell the moment had been, he didn’t have a f*cking clue. He willed Molls to look back at him, but she refused.

Jackson shook his head and turned away.

A quick glance at the table showed that it was only set for two. Obviously Madison had planned it like this all along, and Jackson felt unbearably trapped. Not so long ago, this would have been his dream vision, but now it felt wrong. It felt all wrong.





Chapter 12


Mollie lay on her back, tapping her fingers idly against her stomach. Sleep would be coming any minute.

Annn-nny minute. She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Waited.

Nope. Not gonna happen.

Her eyes opened again and she resumed staring at the ceiling. She was trying not to do the dwelling thing. She really was.

There was absolutely no reason she should be replaying the events of the evening over and over. They weren’t even events. It had been an argument with Jackson, followed by…something. A moment? Had she and Jackson had a moment? It had sure as heck felt like that, with their breathing all fast, the room all hot, the mood…electric.

But if it had been a moment, it had ended as quickly as it had begun, thanks to Madison’s interruption.

Madison.

Mollie repeated her sister’s name over and over in her mind, hoping that the reminder that Jackson was Madison’s ex would banish all the dirty thoughts that kept racing through her head. What was wrong with her tonight? She couldn’t stop thinking about Jackson. Couldn’t stop thinking about him, and what it would be like to have his hands running over her body. She wanted to feel his tongue slip between her lips. Wanted to see him above her, his eyes locked on hers as he slid forward—