Page 28 of Jagger

“What, Jagger? Are you going to make fun of the weak woman who hides behind false bravado? Well, go ahead. I’ve done so several dozen times to no avail.” There was a snap of annoyance in my voice. Butterflies had overtaken my stomach while my legs were shaking and not from the cold.

For a man who I sensed could be brutal and even violent when necessary, his touch was tender as he cupped my chin. He forced me to look into his eyes. The hard shell encasing them had cracked just a little, fading away some of his own hatred and mistrust of everyone around him.

“What I was going to say was that the kind of man who did that to you shouldn’t be taking up space on this earth. He hurt you and that’s just unacceptable. But you don’t need him. You’re the most beautiful and beguiling woman I’ve ever met. Don’t allow yourself to think otherwise because if you do even for a second, then the pain he caused you will fester like a vile illness and may never be cured.”

There was a shared look between us that words could never explain. I found myself leaning into him. The words he’d said meant more than I could make him understand. “Jagger. I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. But I will tell you this. Whoever the jerk is, he better not come around here.”

My throat tightened as much as it seemed my heart was doing. While there was a distinct flutter, my nipples hardening into little pebbles, my mind was telling me this was a very bad idea.

But he wasn’t giving me the option of making that selection. As soon as he slid his hand to cup my cheek, he lowered his head. The first crush of his lips over mine was something I’d remember for a long time to come. He held our lips together, taking his time to open and close them as I pressed my hand against his chest. I struggled between clenching my fist around his shirt and pushing him away.

The scent of timber and citrus tickled my nose while the light taste of whiskey infused my senses. I was tingling all over from the moment, including the way his thick beard scratched against my skin. So much of me wanted to keep him at arm’s length, but I couldn’t do that.

In the last eighteen hours I’d felt more alive than I had in months. The foolish girl inside of me wanted to experience more. There was almost a strange sense of familiarity with being in his arms.

As the passion rose from deep within my system, he pressed his tongue past my lips. I was already lightheaded, the kiss something out of a romance novel. The dichotomy of his roughness and such a tender kiss continued to throw me.

A perfect snowstorm as a backdrop to a romantic setting.

A rugged man in faded jeans and a corduroy shirt.

A warm cabin filled with the scent of a roaring fire.

And strong arms holding me telling me I was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Even if he was lying to me, I’d needed someone like him to remind me there was more out there than jerks. He swept his tongue into my mouth as if he owned me. His possessivenesswas comforting for the moment although it had nothing to do with my personality.

Jagger pulled me closer, rocking me onto my toes. I hadn’t remembered the coffee mug was in my hand until I felt his body stiffen. When he pulled away, the single look of agony on his face drove a squeal to my lips.

“Oh, shit.” I jumped back, slapping one hand over my mouth as my other remained slightly tipped. The rest of the blazing hot coffee trickled down to the porch, instantly melting the snow the wind had blown in from the overhang.

I’d managed to pour more than half down his back.

He didn’t miss a beat, yanking off the soiled shirt from the back of the neck. The moment he exposed his chest, I bit back a moan. This thick material had hidden a chiseled body underneath. His shoulders were so broad, as if he was wearing football uniform shoulder pads. His chest was perfectly symmetrical, his carved abdomen a true work of art. And his arms? Not only did the gorgeous ink extend all the way to just underneath his beard, but the veins on the sides were a clear indication of how physically fit he’d become.

Not from days spent in the gym. I knew better. He was the kind of man who chopped wood as exercise, preferring hard work to steel leg presses.

My mouth had to be open just slightly since he gathered an expression of amusement just before his eyes darkened all over again.

Not from anger.

From a deep, dark craving.

“I’m so sorry. Let me see if I burned you,” I insisted.

His chest was rising and falling.

“Turn around. Don’t be stubborn. The coffee was really hot.”

He did as I asked, but kept his actions slow and methodical, barely taking his eyes off me until he was fully turned around. I gently touched the area, thankful I hadn’t managed to cause even a little bit of redness. As I stroked the area, tiny vibrations drifted all the way to my inner core.

The man was a magnificent specimen.

“I think your shirt saved you. Maybe I have a tee shirt that will fit you. Then I can wash that.”

As he’d done before, he shifted around to face me, taking the cup from my hand and placing it on the porch. When he pulled me into his arms, he slid one arm under my legs, lifting me against his chest.

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