Madison, who liked to be treated like a princess, unless she was halfway drunk on white wine, in which case he’d always had the sense that she didn’t really care that it was Jackson who was touching her.
But Mollie…Mollie knew it was him.
He could feel it in the way her fingers tangled in his hair, in the way her lean body arched against his, slim and wanting. They both knew this was crazy—forbidden, even—and that made it even hotter.
Jackson released her hair, running his hands down her back until he found the zipper of her dress. His fingers hesitated just for a moment, giving both of them a chance to come to their senses.
In response, she pulled his lower lip between her teeth and bit down.
Jackson growled and jerked the zipper down roughly. He placed his palms against Mollie’s back, meaning to slow things down, but the skin-to-skin contact only ignited them.
They moved toward the bed, their mouths never breaking contact as her fingers tore furiously at the buttons of his dress shirt. She tossed his tie to the side and clawed at his shirt.
“Off,” she whispered against his mouth.
He pulled back slightly, feeling a twinge of pain as he maneuvered his shoulder to pull his shirt off. But it was worth it, because his shirt hit the floor at the exact same time Mollie wriggled, sending her red dress pooling at her feet.
Even as his hands itched to reach for her, Jackson could only stare. He didn’t need a reminder that he was seven years older than she was, but he got one as he took in her flawless body.
She was all lean, smooth curves and perfect skin. There were no battle wounds, no extra ripples. She was too good for him. By far.
He ran a hand over his face. Mollie was twenty-eight-year-old perfection, and he felt like a beat-up old man next to her. She couldn’t possibly want—
Mollie stepped forward, setting both hands against his chest, and his breath caught as he saw the reverent expression on her face as her fingertips explored his skin.
He tensed as he waited for the moment when she touched the roughened skin of the scar from his surgery, but she didn’t flinch. She lifted blue eyes to his and then licked her lips.
The want on her face nearly undid him.
He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this woman’s desire, but no way would he turn it down. Not when his cock felt like it’d tear right through his fucking pants if he didn’t get some relief. Not when he wanted to bend her over the bed, grab that perfect, tight ass in his hands, and—
She dipped her head slightly, pressing her lips against the center of his chest before moving her face to the side. Her mouth grazed his nipple—just slightly, a brief flick of her tongue, but it was enough.
He lifted her up and all but threw her on the bed before launching himself on top of her. His mouth came down on hers hard as she spread her thighs wide, making room for him.
As their tongues tangled, Jackson’s hands moved around to her back, and she arched for him, giving his fingers easy access to the clasp of her strapless bra.
He roughly shoved the bra aside, then forced himself to go slow. To tease them both as he dragged his fingers all over her torso, skating along her ribs, over the slight curve of her waist, up toward her shoulders, and back down again, his fingers flirting with the line of her panties without sliding under.
She pulled her mouth away from his, her breath hot on his cheek. “Damn it, Jackson. You’re killing me.”
“Good.” His lips found hers again, nudging them open so his tongue slid along them at the exact moment he brushed a knuckle over the tip of her breast.
Mollie gasped.
He repeated the motion more slowly, just the slightest touch. Her hips pressed up against his, her long legs coming up to lock around his waist, rubbing the tiny triangle of her thong against the bulge in his pants.
He hissed, then punished her by slowing down his touch even further, pulling back to watch as his knuckle brushed her nipple again and again. Her breasts were small and perfect, her nipples pebbled and hard and begging for his mouth.
He couldn’t deny her. Or himself.
Jackson dipped his head to her, pausing for a long moment, torturing them both before flicking his tongue over the tip of her breast.
She cried out, her hands going to his head. Jackson’s fingers wrapped around her wrists, pinning them on either side of her as his mouth explored her breasts, moving from one to the other with teasing nips before he sucked one nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue as she bucked beneath him.
He shifted his weight slightly, his eyes looking up to her face, loving the way her breath came in hot, desperate pants as he played with her.
Her wrists twisted beneath his grip, and he released her.