Bad Boy Valentine (9 page)

“I can carry it myself. It’s my fault.”

“I played a part in this, too.”

“Really?” He met her eyes, anger flaring in his chest again. “I don’t remember you being in the car that night.”

“No, but I could’ve been more… I don’t know. Open to talk to. Approachable.”

“What are you talking about?”

Kate sighed. “You were too scared of me to be honest.”

Jagger let out a dry laugh. “Scared of you? How do you figure.”

“Because I’m a perfectionist? A classic over-reactor? You didn’t tell me about the bills because you were afraid I’d freak out and blame you.”

“I was embarrassed. Shit, Kate. A man should be able to take care of his family.”

“A man should have a woman who backs him up,” she said. “We were a team, Jagger. We were supposed to take care of each other. I’m not saying I’m responsible for your choices. Just that it wasn’t all you. All this time, you’ve been carrying around this weight, beating yourself up about letting me down. But maybe I let you down, too.”

“No—”

“Yes. Whether you want to admit it or not.”

He opened his mouth to deny it again, but she pressed her finger to his lips, shushing him. In the silence that followed, she curled up against him, her head on his shoulder, her fingers tracing the ridges of his abs.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, his throat still tight with emotion. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” It was the first time he’d said the words aloud to her—these particular words, for this particular pain—and instantly he felt lighter. Unburdened.

“Me, too,” she whispered. “Jagger, I forgive you. You need to know that.”

His eyes glazed with tears. How long had he ached to hear those words? How long had he convinced himself he didn’t deserve them? Yet here she was, freely handing them over. Whatever happened between them next—or
didn’t
happen between them—he felt like he’d won the Goddamned lottery.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered into her hair. “I never stopped thinking about you, not even for a minute.”

Kate pulled back, looking at him with those big blue eyes. She was open again, unguarded, all the light coming back into her eyes. “Do I seem much different now? Different than you remember?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I mean, you
look
the same. Hot as fuck.”

Kate laughed, and Jagger cupped her face, running his thumb over her smile.

“I’m serious, though,” he said. “You’re an amazing woman. Smart. Dedicated. Your bakery is gonna be famous soon—I know it.”

Kate shrugged. “Let’s go back to the part about you missing me.”

“I did. More than you know.”

“So you thought about me a lot over the years?”

“Every fuckin’ night.” Jagger closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair, remembering all those nights, all those times he thought of nothing but falling asleep in her arms.

And then he remembered the other thoughts that’d kept him from going mad. The red-hot fantasies. The memories of their hottest, dirtiest nights. The taste of her. The sounds she made for him when he’d finally made her come.

When he opened his eyes again, he was rock fucking hard, and Kate’s eyes were dark with unchecked desire.

“Show me,” she said, the commanding, serious tone back in her voice.

Jagger swallowed hard. “I… what?”

“I want to know
exactly
how you thought of me.” She stood up from the couch and unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them down off her hips.

She lowered her eyes to his bulging cock.

“Show me,” she said again.

Jesus fuck.

Kate had always been free-spirited in bed, wild and down for anything. After their first few times, she’d never been shy about telling him what she wanted, telling him what felt good and what didn’t, what she was willing to try, what she wanted to do to him, what scared her, what turned her on.

But she’d never, ever taken charge like this.

Jagger almost came right there.

“Sorry,” she said, fire blazing in her eyes. “Was I unclear?”

Jagger shook his head, a dumb animal at the mercy of her every word. Sliding his hand down the front of his sweatpants, he fisted his cock, freeing himself, his eyes never leaving hers for a second.

“Better,” she said. “Hmm. Maybe you need a little more motivation.” She grabbed the bottom of her sweater and lifted it over her head, tossing it onto the chair. She was standing in front of him in nothing but a flimsy pair of red panties, her hair crackling with static, but Jagger was focused on those soft, perfect tits. He wanted them in his face, in his mouth.

Instinctively, his hand tightened around his cock, stroking it.

Kate moaned softly. “Show me,” she whispered again, taking another step closer. She leaned forward and slid her hands over his bare shoulders, her tits brushing his face.

He stroked himself faster, harder, nosing the soft skin of her breasts, his tongue darting out to taste her nipple. He licked her, grazing it with his teeth, finally sucking it into his mouth and making her gasp.

Kate slid her hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, pressing herself harder against his mouth. He couldn’t take it much longer, the teasing, the taste of her rose nipples, the cinnamon scent of her skin, his fist hot and tight on his cock, his balls tightening…

“Kate,” he growled, his voice tight, the muscles of his abs clenching. “You’re so…
fuck
. I’m—”

“Stop,” she said, pulling away, and instantly, his hand stilled.

“Put your hands on your sides.” She stood up straight again, hooking her thumbs into the sides of her panties and slowly, teasingly, sliding them down to her ankles and kicking them aside. She was fully naked now, her skin glowing in the dim light of the apartment, so fuckin’ gorgeous it almost hurt to look at her.

Kate. His beautiful Kit-Kat. Here. Forgiving him. Wanting him. Even after everything.

“Jagger?”

“What is it, baby?” he whispered, knowing that whatever she asked for, whatever she needed, he’d give it to her, no questions asked.

“That’s Miss Molina to you.” A mischievous grin lit up her face. “And you’re not going to fucking
move
until I say so.”

P
ower surged
through Kate’s veins, making her feel alive and strong. Fierce. Bold. And dirty as hell.

In their own ways, she and Jagger had both chained themselves to their pain, carrying around that anguish and heartache and anger and regret for nearly a decade. They’d finally unburdened themselves tonight, and now there was only one thing left to do: make up for all the lost time.

Maybe there was more to Jagger’s story, to all the wrong turns they’d taken individually and as a couple that led to that night, to everything that happened after. But he’d answered her questions tonight. And she’d said what she’d come here to say.

Kate had forgiven him. She’d made peace with the past, with her part in it. If there was more to know, more to sift through, she’d deal with that.

But right now, she needed this, and she needed it
her
way.

Jagger stared at her with his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide, his perfect cock standing at full attention, all for Kate. She dropped to her knees before him and grabbed his sweatpants, sliding them down off his hips, his legs, and tossing them into the corner.

His cock sprung forward, hard and smooth, and she brushed her lips against the head, a promise of things to come.

Obeying her orders, Jagger remained still, his hands balled into fists at his sides. His knuckles were white.

Kate slid her hands up his muscular thighs, opening her lips, taking him in one slow, tantalizing inch at a time. He was smooth and salty in her mouth, the long overdue feel of his hot skin on her tongue driving her wild. Closing her lips around him, she sucked harder, stroking him with her tongue as she brought him in deeper.

The leather squeaked as Jagger leaned back hard against it, barely keeping himself in check.

They were on equal footing now, naked and aroused, neither sure what would happen next. Finally sliding him out of her mouth, Kate rose and climbed onto the couch, straddling him, her bare breasts brushing against his chest. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips. If Jagger had reached out and touched her, he would’ve felt her heart beating wildly, thrumming inside her chest.

He didn’t move, though. Not an inch, despite her naked body sliding on top of him. His eyes were shut tight, his arms pinned at his sides, utterly paralyzed.

But his breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts, and between her thighs, he was rock fucking hard. His smooth cock—wet from her mouth—brushed against her clit, and she bit back a moan of pleasure.

“I missed you, too,” she said softly, quickly, before she changed her mind again. “Every day while you were gone. Every day still. I never stopped.”

It was a confession that felt more raw and real than an admission of love, more difficult than an apology for some past wrongdoing. The words left her shaking. They floated out from her lips and into the space between them, leaving her feeling even lighter than before. But she was scared and uncertain, too. Anger was toxic, sure. But it was also easier.

For years she’d hated him, cursed him. But now that she’d said those words, laid herself bare before him, Kate didn’t know what came next. She couldn’t handle rejection—not tonight. She couldn’t handle discussion about whether this was sane or possible—she didn’t even want to hear what
this
was.

Right now, all she wanted was to
feel
him.

Sliding her fingers into his thick, silky hair, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

Jagger swallowed hard, finally opening his eyes, and in them she saw the old fire, hot and dangerous. She could tell he was holding back, trying not to spook her. The effort made him hard and tense, his muscles quivering beneath her.

“Touch me,” she said again, fisting his hair with both hands. Her pussy throbbed with desire, aching for him. “I need to feel you on my skin. Inside me. Everywhere.”

Jagger groaned, shifting beneath her weight. Tentatively, he moved his hands to her bare arms, caressing her skin with gentle strokes. When he finally spoke, his voice was gravelly. “Are you sure you want this?”

She grabbed one of his hands and pushed it down between her thighs, letting him feel her wetness, her heat, all of it. All because of him.

“
Fuck
,” he breathed. He slid his hand deeper between her thighs, his calloused fingers brushing her clit, gliding over her slick folds. He teased her lightly for a moment, then finally, blissfully, pushed his fingers inside her.

She whimpered at his touch, so expert, so familiar. He stroked her harder, curling his fingers to hit her at just the right spot as he moved faster, deeper, urging her to match his rhythm with her hips. Kate held onto his shoulders and rode his hand, losing herself in the feel of his touch as he slid his thumb over her clit and tortured her with slow, soft circles.

He always knew just how to touch her, just how to tease her, to work her body with the perfect balance of fast and slow, hard and soft. She arched her back in pleasure, and Jagger leaned forward, brushing his lips over one of her nipples. He blazed a trail of kisses to the other breast, and sucked her hard, worshipping her flesh with his tongue, his teeth.

It felt so fucking good, so hot. But it wasn’t enough.

Her purse was at the end of the couch. She reached for it now and pulled out a condom—
thank you, Georgie!
—and tore it open, rolling it down over his thick, perfect cock. He moaned against her breast, the vibration of his voice rippling across her nipple and sending another bolt of desire to her core.

“I want this,” she said, and he pulled his hand out from between her legs, sliding his fingers into her hair and claiming her mouth in a deep kiss. She guided him inside her, and lowered herself down onto his cock.

Her walls stretched around him, taking him in, welcoming him home. That’s how it felt—home, like he’d always belonged, and would always come back. It was like earlier, on the bike. This was something they knew instinctively, something they were made to do. They didn’t need to talk or ask questions or fumble in the dark.

Jagger rocked his hips, his body rolling and crashing into her like waves against the shore, taking it deeper and deeper with each delicious thrust.

Kate couldn’t remember ever feeling so good, so full. So right. Her knees rubbed against the worn leather of the old couch, her skin hot and slippery from the friction, but she didn’t care. She wanted all of it, every bit of pain and pleasure and heat and lust she’d missed.

She pressed her mouth to his again, seeking the velvet smoothness of his tongue as he rocked harder and harder against her body, his hands sliding around to cup her ass, to feel every bit of her flesh.

Jagger fucked how he lived—never any shortcuts, never any half-ass moves. For better or worse, he was all in with everything he did.

She clamped her thighs around him and slid forward again, bringing him in deeper, losing herself in the hot, wet slide of his cock as their kiss continued to deepen.

Jagger bit her lip, then sucked, tracing it with his tongue as she moaned his name. He gripped her bare ass so tightly it should’ve hurt, but all she felt was pleasure, heat, lust, wanting. Jagger held her like he was afraid she’d slip away, and she didn’t
want
to slip away. Not this time. Suddenly she wanted it harder, faster, more of him, all of him, everything. She shoved her hands into his hair and pulled his head back, growling against his lips.

“Take it hard,” she whispered. “All of it. It’s yours.”

In an instant he flipped her onto the couch, moving on top of her so quickly it made her gasp. He lowered himself on top of her and thrust in even deeper, his weight delicious on her body, firm and solid. She arched her hips up to meet him, their bodies crashing together, slick with sweat. The scent of leather and sawdust and Jagger’s shampoo—same brand he always used—enveloped her, flooding her core with another burst of wet heat. He kissed her face, her jaw, her neck, diving into her pussy, giving her everything she’d so badly missed, everything she needed.

Jagger licked a path between her breasts, then pulled back slightly, sliding his hand between them. His fingers ghosted over her clit, gentle at first, then increasing in pressure, stroking her, teasing her, his calloused fingers gliding in circles over the tight bundle of nerves while he fucked her, slow and deep…
so, so fucking deep…

She felt the first wave of tingles across her skull, spreading down the back of her neck, down her spine, and she gasped.

Jagger groaned into her mouth, his tongue sliding against hers, salty and sweet as he gently pulled back.

“Let go,” he whispered, his eyes full of fire and light and sex and love and fear and hope… God, Kate felt like she could see her own soul reflected there. It made her heart kick up again, banging against her chest.

“Jagger,” she whispered. She wanted to cry. She wanted to laugh. She was feeling so much, everything at once.

“It’s just us,” he said softly. “You and me. Right here. Let go. Let me feel you, baby.”

He kissed her then, slowly at first, then harder, deeper, his breath and tongue and lips completely devouring her. Heat swirled outward from her core, another delicious tingle that spread across every nerve, every bit of flesh until her whole body was warm and buzzing.

Then the real wave hit, the heat and intensity like nothing she’d ever felt before. She arched her back off the couch as Jagger thrust deeper inside, her walls trembling around him as the orgasm crashed through her core, her thighs, her stomach, everywhere all at once, and still Jagger didn’t stop. He fucked her harder, faster, his fingers rubbing her clit and bringing her to the edge a second time, this one even more intense than the first. Kate lost all sense of time, of space, her body floating, her muscles trembling, everything inside her melting away as she screamed his name, over and over and over.

Jagger finally collapsed on top of her, both of them panting and hot, slick with sweat, stuck to the cheap leather couch. They hadn’t even caught their breath yet when the giggles rose up. She bit down on Jagger’s shoulder to step them, but it was no use.

Jagger laughed, too.

“Ah, Kate,” he said, still smiling. He stroked his hand over her head and down her face, letting it linger on her cheek as she continued to crack up. “The girl with the laughing orgasm.”

“I’m a freak of nature,” she said, still laughing.

“No.” Jagger shook his head, staring at her with a sudden intensity that made her hot all over again. He wasn’t laughing anymore when he kissed her forehead and said simply, “You’re perfect.”