Mollie wasn’t much of a cook, but she did have one pretty kick-ass specialty: grilled cheese.

She made a killer grilled cheese sandwich. She knew the secret. See, people thought it was all about the cheese, but that actually wasn’t true. Any kind of cheese was delicious when it was all gooey and melty.

No, the difference between an average grilled cheese sandwich and an exceptional one was the bread.

Mollie was partial to sourdough. Nothing beat a grilled cheese sandwich with freshly baked sourdough and perfectly melted Swiss.

Lucky for her, New York City wasn’t short on bakeries, and it had taken only a couple of minutes of googling before she’d found a bakery that had sourdough bread within walking distance of their apartment. Add in a stop for some cheese, a bottle of wine for her, beer for Jackson, and she was in business—the business of making dinner for Jackson Burke.

She was singing along with a Dixie Chicks oldie, sipping a glass of wine and spreading the perfectly softened butter onto the bread, when she heard the front door open.

“Hey there!” she called as she heard the clink of his keys hitting the silver key tray in the foyer.

Jackson appeared in the kitchen. He tossed his suit jacket on the back of the barstool, his finger already hooking into his tie in the now familiar gesture of loosening it.

Big dope that she was, her heart swelled at the sight of him—at least until she realized that he hadn’t said anything in greeting. Hadn’t even looked at her.

She frowned as he walked to the fridge and pulled out one of the bottles of beer she’d bought him—a local craft brew he’d mentioned liking—without acknowledging its appearance in his kitchen. He flipped the top off and took a long sip.

Her eyes took on a worried look as she gazed at him. This tense, angry Jackson wasn’t the Jackson who’d left her naked in bed this morning. This was the same Jackson she’d met in the bar weeks ago. What the hell could have happened to change him from—

Then it hit her.

Madison.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Madison was the only one who could have done this to him.

Thinking about her next move, she took a sip of wine, then set the butter knife aside. No way was she wasting one of her perfect grilled cheese sandwiches on him until she knew what was going on here.

“Rough day?” she asked casually.

He gave her a sharp look. “It was fine.”

Great. So they were playing that game.

“So I was thinking, how about next weekend for the party?” she said, turning and leaning back against the counter so she could face him. “I know it’s not a lot of time, but that’s probably better. Makes it seem more like a spontaneous get-together among friends, and—”

“Madison came by my office.”

She sucked in a little breath before letting it out.

“She’s in New York?”

His gaze was sharp. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Mollie said, her throat feeling dry. “She didn’t.”

How could her own sister—her only sister—not tell her they were in the same state? Especially after Madison had left last time without saying goodbye.

At least Jackson wasn’t lying to her. That was something.

“Okay,” she said slowly, picking up her wineglass. “Did you, um . . . tell her? About us?”

He met her eyes and shook his head. “No.”

Mollie swallowed, not sure if she was relieved or dismayed.

Relieved, mostly. She wasn’t ready for Madison to know what was going on, but Mollie knew that when Madison did find out, it needed to come from her. And yet she didn’t want to be Jackson’s dirty little secret either.

“What did she want?” Mollie asked.

He grunted as he moved toward her, pulling a piece of sliced cheese off the cutting board. “What do you think?”

“The whole reconciliation thing?”

He nodded. Took another strip of cheese, still not looking at her.

Mollie’s eyes narrowed slightly. Usually he balked any time Madison’s name was mentioned. But he was different tonight. Thoughtful.

Oh my God. Was he considering getting back together with Madison? The thought made her want to throw up. Here she was running all over the city trying to find the perfect kind of freaking bread, and he and her sister were having a heart-to-heart about their marriage.

It hurt. It hurt far more than it had a right to considering she and Jackson weren’t a couple. Not really.

Still, how dare he lead her on when he was going to jump ship the second Madison perfected her innocent routine and—

Mollie forced that train of thought to stop dead in its tracks. What was she doing? Turning on her sister? This was exactly why women should never hook up with their friends’ exes, much less their sister’s.

She turned back toward the cutting board so they were standing shoulder to shoulder, not quite uncomfortable in the silence, but close.

“So how did you leave things?” she asked as she cut off a pad of butter and dropped it into the skillet. “With my sister.”

He turned slightly so that he was facing her, both of them watching as she twisted the burner on and the blue flame clicked to life. There was another moment of silence, and Mollie thought he might not respond, but after another sip of beer he finally spoke.

“I think she’s up to something.”

Mollie felt a twinge of panic and tried to stifle it. “Like what? She’s shacked up with Alec.”

“I think they broke up.”

The panic roared to life. Slowly she turned to face him. “She wants you back.”

It felt good to put the words out there. No use beating around the bush.

He lifted a shoulder and took a sip of beer.

“Oh God,” she muttered, turning back around.

“Hey,” he said gruffly, coming up behind her. “Look at me.”

Mollie ignored him, mindlessly arranging the cheese onto the buttered bread before lowering it to the bubbling butter in the pan. She was reaching for the spatula when Jackson swore softly, his hand snaking across the stove controls and turning the burner off. “Damn it, Mollie, will you please look at me?”

She reluctantly turned her face so that her eyes met his, reading the frustration on his hard features.

His gaze searched her face. “You know I don’t want her.”

You don’t think you do.

His fingers wrapped around her arm as he jerked her up and toward him, so that their chests collided.

His eyes were hot and angry as they burned into hers. “I talked to Madison, and that’s it. I didn’t agree to go on a date; I didn’t agree to get back together. In fact, after a certain point in the conversation, I was having a hard time even paying attention to her.”

She swallowed.

“Why do you think that is, Mollie?” he asked quietly. “What do you think was distracting me?”

Oh God, why does he have to be so beautiful?

“You, Mollie,” he said, pulling her closer. “You were distracting me. You were all I could think about. All I’ve been thinking about.”

Her heart thudded. “Yeah?”

His thumb touched her lip. “You know when you texted me today? Something dumb about whether or not we needed more paper towels? Seeing your name on my cell phone did a hell of a lot more for me than my entire meeting with Madison. Are you hearing me? It was the mere sight of your name that did it for me. That’s it, Mollie. Seeing your name undoes me.”

She sucked in a breath at the confused urgency on his face.

He pulled her closer. “You’re all I think about these days, babe. Madison showing up unexpectedly didn’t do shit to change that.”

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.

He complied, kicking his shoes off, and the second he did, Mollie hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down along with his pants.

She looked up once they hit the floor, and he watched her with an unreadable expression as he let her peel the pants off one leg, then the other, taking his socks off as well.

And then he was naked too.

Mollie smiled. It was the slow, victorious smile of a woman who knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was to make Jackson Burke beg—for her.

Down on her knees, Mollie sat up slightly, so that she was eye level with his cock. Looking up and holding his gaze, she tipped her head forward until her lips touched the tip. Briefly, as though it was an accident, except it wasn’t, and his throaty groan told her that he knew it.

“Mollie—”

She kissed him again, lingering this time, loving the way the smooth tip bobbed against her mouth.

His hands came up to her hair, tangled there.

This time when she kissed him it was slower. Wetter. Her tongue swiped across his tip and his nails dug into her scalp as he let out a low groan. She smiled, then repeated the motion before dragging her tongue all the way down to the base before trailing it back up.

Mollie glanced up, feeling a surge of victory at the panicked lust on Jackson’s face. Holding his gaze, she leaned forward again, opening her mouth as she slowly took him all the way inside. She moved slowly, letting him watch as his cock disappeared between her lips.

He was big, too big to take in all the way, so Mollie wrapped her hand around the rest of him, tightening her fingers as she began to move her mouth in wet, sucking strokes.

“Mollie,” he said, holding her head. “Yes, baby, yes. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

She didn’t stop. Didn’t want to. If someone had told her a few weeks ago that she’d be on her knees on Jackson Burke’s kitchen floor giving him head, she’d have laughed. And probably blushed.

From the way his fingers pressed against her head and the quickening of his breath, she knew he was close. Jackson’s hands moved from her head down to her shoulders, and before she realized what was happening, he’d scooped her up to her feet, his eyes boring into hers before he crushed her against him in a searing kiss.

“Very naughty, Ms. Carrington,” he whispered as he pulled back.

“You didn’t let me finish,” she pouted.

“I have other plans for the QB,” he said.

She snorted. “QB? Tell me we aren’t talking about . . .” She glanced down.

“We are. We definitely are.”

Mollie let out a little laugh, oddly warmed by the fact that Jackson Burke, winner of multiple sexiest-man awards, had a sense of humor in bed. Or in the kitchen. Whatever.

He kissed her again, his hands sliding over her sides to her waist before moving idly back up again until his thumbs found the undersides of her breasts, teasing her with soft strokes before moving up and swiping over her nipples.

Mollie let out a little moan as his fingers toyed with her, twisting the sensitive peaks until she was wriggling against him, wanting to get closer. Wanting more.

Jackson bent slightly, his tongue gliding across the tip of her breast as his hand slid down over her belly until his fingers found the wetness between her legs.

Mollie’s head tipped back as his fingers played between her legs in soft teasing motions. His mouth moved to the other breast as he began to stroke her harder, his finger finding exactly the right rhythm and pressure.

“Yes.” She bit her lip as she braced for the building orgasm.

Jackson had other ideas. He gave her one last circling stroke, slowly, torturously, before he pulled away and straightened up.

She narrowed her eyes, and he winked before setting a hand to her waist and slowly spinning her around so she was facing the granite countertop. He pushed the cutting board out of the way as he moved behind her, pressing her to the counter.

Mollie rubbed against him, loving the contrast between his hardness and the slight scratch of his body hair against her smoothness.

He lifted a hand to push her blond waves to the side, his mouth finding the skin of her neck as he moved even closer, his erection pressing hot and hard behind her.

Jackson trailed kisses over her neck and down to her shoulder. He set a warm palm against her back, easing her forward until she was all the way bent over the counter, her breasts pressed to the cold stone.

“This okay?” he asked roughly, running his hands over her sides.

In response Mollie swiveled her hips back against him, and he sucked in a harsh breath. His hands slid down to cup her hips, angling her as he pressed forward.

Mollie was expecting hard and fast—was craving it. But Jackson surprised her by moving slowly, easing inside her inch by inch.

She arched back again, urging him on, and he groaned. “You are so hot like this.”

He pulled back slightly, then thrust forward all the way, and Mollie turned her head, resting her cheek against the cool counter as he began to move with a firm rhythm.

“I’m going to come, babe. Touch yourself, come with me.”

Mollie slipped a hand between her legs as he moved faster, each thrust causing her torso to rub against the counter, her nipples hard against the cold granite.

Mollie quickened the pace of her circling fingers, her body coming closer and closer until she couldn’t hold out any longer. She let out a loud cry, and the second she spasmed, Jackson joined her, his sharp curses mingling with her soft cries as he emptied himself inside her.

Mollie turned her head, letting the counter cool her heated face as reality seeped in. She’d just been thoroughly screwed on a kitchen counter next to one of her beloved grilled cheese sandwiches. And it had been amazing.

Jackson pulled out, clearing his throat in a way that made her think he was as aware of the rawness of their lovemaking as she was.

Mollie straightened and glanced over her shoulder, giving him a coy grin.

He smiled back. “Well, if that isn’t the smile of a satisfied woman.”

She turned to face him and leaned forward to kiss his shoulder. “Are you not a satisfied man?”

He surprised her by cupping her chin with one hand, lifting her face to his. “I am. And I thank you.”

Mollie gave an incredulous laugh. “Did you just thank me for sex?”

“More like a thank-you for reminding me that I didn’t die in that car wreck.”

He released her face and gave her a playful swat on the butt that belied the importance of what he’d just said.

Jackson turned away and began picking up their clothes, and Mollie put a hand to her hammering chest.

Objectively she knew that this was just sex. He’d fucked her against a counter, for God’s sake.

But something about his face just then . . .

Thank you for reminding me that I didn’t die in that car wreck.

“I’m gonna shower,” he said, holding his clothes against his chest with one arm as he held out hers. “You wanna come?”

“Nah.” She shook her head. “I’ll make dinner.”

“Okay.” He leaned forward, kissing the top of her head before heading toward his bedroom, whistling along with the music she just now registered was still playing quietly in the background.

Mollie waited until his door closed before she wandered toward her own room for fresh clothes.

“It’s just sex, Mollie,” she muttered to herself minutes later as she walked back into the kitchen, tying the string of her sweatpants. “Just really, really good sex.”

But as she cleaned the counter and resumed making her grilled cheese sandwiches, she couldn’t escape the nagging thought that just sex wasn’t supposed to leave her feeling quite so happy.

Or so terrified.