I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)(56)

Mollie’s hands went tentatively to his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice was gruff, maybe a little embarrassed, and she found herself smiling as happiness bloomed.

“I was making you dinner,” she said, her fingers fiddling with the loosened knot of his tie.

He glanced briefly at the cutting board. “I saw that. Very fancy stuff. What is that cheese, magic?”

She smiled. “Gruyère. Costs way more than cheese has a right to, but I decided you’re worth it.”

He lowered his face to hers, the stubble of his cheek scratching slightly against hers. “Am I?”

“I think so,” she said, trying to keep her tone light, and worried she was failing miserably.

Everything with him seemed to matter too much. It had been bad enough when conversation with Jackson had been enough to tie her into knots for hours, analyzing every sentence for hidden meaning that deep down she’d known wasn’t there.

But now…

Now there was touching, and her heart was getting tangled up in a whole other level of dangerous.

Jackson’s lips found her neck. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m damn excited about this fancy sandwich of yours, but—” His teeth nibbled her earlobe.

“But?” she asked, her eyes closing.

“It can wait a few minutes, yeah?”

Mollie wound her arms around his neck. “How many minutes are you thinking?”

In response, his mouth melded against hers in a hot, heart-melting kiss.

Mollie kissed him back, letting everything—the stress of the day, the grilled cheese, even her anxiety over her sister—drift away as she focused only on him. On Jackson. On the way his lips moved against hers, the way his hands slipped under her shirt, rubbing restlessly over her back.

Mollie slowly untied his tie, pulling it off and letting it slide to the floor. She untucked his shirt as they kissed, her fingers slowly undoing the buttons.

He smiled against her mouth. “Are you disrobing me in the kitchen?”

She smiled and pulled back slightly. “I thought there was a nice symmetry to it. Payback for the time you ogled me while I was in my pajamas.”

“I stand by my argument that those were not pajamas,” he said, helping her as she shoved the dress shirt over his shoulders. “You might as well have been naked.”

“Hmm, shall we test that theory?” she asked, mouth watering as he tugged his undershirt over his head and threw it onto the ever-growing pile of clothes. “Next time you want me naked, I’ll put on my PJs. You can tell me if they’re the same thing as me being naked.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m game. How about…now?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “You want me to get naked now, here?”

He shrugged. “It’s the only way I’ll know, babe.”

“So you’re saying what? This is for science?”

“We’ll call it research,” he said with a nod, his eyes drifting over her hungrily. “Vital research. But damn, be quick about it.”

Mollie had never been particularly uninhibited. She wasn’t prudish, but she’d also never been especially forward sexually. With Jackson, though, it was a whole other thing. She wanted to be naked around him. Wanted to be wild and wanton. Wanted to strip in the kitchen in the middle of making dinner. Wanted to touch, and be touched…

Before she could lose her nerve, Mollie peeled off her jeans and shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra since, being small-chested, she didn’t really need one, especially when she wasn’t planning to leave the house. Jackson’s quickened breathing told her he didn’t mind.

She bit her lip nervously as she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her underwear, suddenly aware just how bright the lighting was in the kitchen.

“All the way, baby. I can’t make a final call until you’re all the way naked.”

“Uh-huh,” she said with a skeptical voice. Then she took a deep breath and quickly wiggled the basic black bikini panties down her hips before kicking them aside. She stood before him, chin held high. “Well?”

Jackson didn’t hurry as his eyes drifted all the way down and all the way back up again. When his eyes finally came back to hers, the teasing was long gone.

“You win,” he said gruffly. “Naked and almost naked are not the same thing.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “No?”

“No. Naked is better. So much better.”

He reached for her, but Mollie grabbed his hands, pushing them gently back toward her sides as she used her body to maneuver him against the granite. She deliberately let her hardened nipples brush against the hard planes of his chest, and he closed his eyes, his breathing raspy.

When he opened them, there was a trace of vulnerability she wasn’t expecting. A hesitancy she hadn’t seen before.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said. “Smooth and perfect and—”

She pressed her mouth to his to stop the flow of words. “You’re perfect too.”

He didn’t respond, and she pulled back slightly so that her mouth could trail downward, over his chin, across his throat, before she nipped lightly at the utter perfection of his sculpted chest.

Mollie trailed her fingers over his stomach until they found his belt buckle. Slowly, purposefully she removed the belt and let it drop to the floor. She held his gaze as her fingers undid the button of his pants and zipper, palming his erection through his briefs. “Shoes off,” she whispered quietly.