22. Jasper
22
JASPER
She sidesteps me, stalking to the other side of my room. She rakes her hands through her hair and whirls around, her dress and hair flying out behind her.
“That is why we need rules,” she breathes out, her gaze trailing down my torso. It snags on my cock doing his best to bust out of these gray sweatpants.
And fuck me do I feel it like a physical caress. Her gaze narrows on me as if she’s anticipating my objection.
I drag my hand over my hair, and if my biceps flex with the movement, well that can’t be helped, can it?
I drag my teeth along my bottom lip and step toward her. She’s tough as hell, I’ll give her that. I don’t think Coraline Carter has ever backed down from a fight in her life, and today is no exception. She angles her proud chin higher, her fists clenched at her sides.
“You think rules will save you from me, baby?” My voice is low, a soft tenor reserved only ever for her.
“I don’t need saving, Jagger,” she practically snarls.
I arch a brow, surprised I hit a nerve so easily. She doesn’t usually show her cards so quickly. But it’s been years since I’ve been this close to her for this long.
Years since she kissed me like that. Since she pressed that perfect body of hers against mine.
The taste of her fucks me up a little bit, wraps around me and goes straight to my cock.
I tilt my head to the side and take another step, keeping my voice low, steady. “You sure about that, baby?” I watch the way her cheeks flush, the red spreading down her neck and across the tops of her breasts. I feel like a starved man, a barely caged beast just pacing the small expanse of my self-imposed cage.
Or maybe it’s one that she put me in all those years ago.
Now it’s her turn to step into me. The tips of her sneakers butt up against mine, the rubber soles of her Vans squeaking against my wood floor. Her brows lower over her gorgeous eyes in dark slashes of accusation. “Are you really going to sit there and throw that shit in my face? I didn’t ask you to help me at the concert. I didn’t need your help three years ago, and I sure as hell don’t need it now, Reaper .”
She spits the club name like it’s something foul in her mouth. And I find that chained up beast perk up at the attention, like she’s speaking directly to him.
I lean in and drag my mouth along the shell of her ear. The only place our bodies are touching. The inches that separate the rest of us fizzle with sparking energy. “You can lie to yourself, baby, but I know the truth.”
She inhales and her nipples brush against my chest. The thin fabric of her sundress doing absolutely nothing to contain them. She sucks in a breath at the contact, or maybe she’s gearing up to lay into me.
I fucking hope she is. Coraline Carter is beautiful, but when she’s mad, she’s fucking magnificent. She’s like some otherworldly creature, spitting fire and burning bridges in her wake without a single care. It’s fucking mad how much it turns me on.
Which isn’t saying much. Seems like everything she does turns me on. Which is a big fucking problem when she hasn’t so much as touched me in years.
Until this morning.
When she came here, looking for me, kissing me.
“You’re unbelievable,” she hisses, her breath warming my neck.
“You fucking love it,” I murmur, dragging my lips over that secret spot behind her ear. It’s a little patch of nerve endings that sends goosebumps cascading down her body.
And sure enough, a shiver skates down her spine a moment later. The purest form of male satisfaction fills me, balloons my ego until I feel like a fucking peacock, ready to strut about.
Her hands slide over my chest in smooth arcs, stopping to rest right over my pecs. My lips part on a silent sigh, my fingertips tingling with anticipation to feel her smooth skin again. And then she shoves, pushing me back a step.
“No touching. Rule number one.”
I blink slowly, unable to stop the crooked grin from spreading across my face. “You’re kidding, right?”
She shuffles back a step and folds her arms across her chest. The fabric of her dress pulls tight, shining a spotlight on those perfect nipples I still dream about sometimes. I didn’t know nipples could be so fucking perfect on a person, but here she stands, proving me wrong once again. It was a running theme for us, back when we had our moment.
I’d be a fucking idiot not to jump at the chance to have another moment with her. It’s all I have to offer, anyway. A collection of moments, not long enough to form any kind of serious attachment. But more than enough time to reacquaint myself with her perfect body. My mouth waters at the idea of tasting her again.
She snaps her fingers in front of my face twice, and I blink, coming back to myself.
“Are you okay?” Her brows furrow low over her eyes, her mouth pinched into a frown.
I drag my palm over the scruff on my jaw. “Sure thing, baby. Just trying to figure out how you expect anyone to believe that you’re my girl if we don’t touch.”
“Stop that,” she snaps, readjusting her weight to her other leg.
I arch a brow and shove my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants. “Being reasonable? Being so fucking handsome? Being smart and kind and charming and thoughtful?”
A disbelieving snort leaves her. “Puh-lease, Jagger. We’re pretending for them, yeah?” She tosses a thumb over her shoulder in a general direction. “But you can’t bullshit me. I know you.”
I ignore the sharp sting that accompanies her words, shrugging my shoulders as if that’ll help it roll off my back. I should be used to that kind of thing though. What was it that my father used to say?
Worthless, lazy piece of shit.
There was more, but it was always the same start. I tuned it out after a while, but sometimes that shit creeps up on me when I don’t expect it.
“Well if you want to sell it, you’re gonna have to get your hands dirty, baby.”
“That,” she says with a snap and point of her finger. “Stop that . Touching each other is one thing, but pet names? No way. No one would believe that I willingly let you call me baby like I’m a child or something.”
I tongue the back of my teeth and shake my head. “How soon your memory fades. I recall many, many occasions where you liked it when I called you baby .”
Like I recalled it from the depths of my memory. An image rolls out behind my eyes. A nearly-naked Cora rubbing that perfect cunt of hers against my cock until she came, soaking her thong and my boxer briefs. Hair thrown back and her hands on her tits. Dry humping had never been so fucking hot.
She begged me to tell her every filthy thing that I wanted to do to that sweet cunt, and she came so hard I thought she was gonna black out.
Her chest flushes and her hand falls to her side with a loud slap. “Rule number two. Stop bringing up the past. I don’t need reminders, I was there.”
Her conviction would be a lot more convincing if she wasn’t so turned on. If her chest wasn’t heaving with labored breaths and her face wasn’t flushed with arousal.
“Counterpoint: reminders of our shared past help build this lie,” I murmur.
“Rule three: put on a fucking shirt.”
“I don’t think you mean that.” A laugh spills out of me, genuine and gleeful. “Rule number one: three weekly dates, two must be public.” I grin when her gaze stays glued to my dick, which he very much appreciates.
I drag my hand down my chest, her gaze zeroing in on it. I take my time, smoothing over every dip and ridge in my abdomen until I get to the waistband of my sweatpants.
She makes a noise, this desperate sort of squeak. Her feet shuffle her toward me a few steps, like she isn’t aware of what she’s doing.
“Fine,” she murmurs, almost like she’s in a trance.
I sink my teeth into my lip to smother my grin as I let my hand sink into my sweatpants. I fist my cock, stroking it a couple of times before rearranging it and sliding my hand out.
“Great. Rule number two?—”
She blinks quickly. “Wait, what? No. You tricked me with your dick,” she accuses.
I press my hand against my chest. “I would never.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’d believe you if you weren’t grinning like that. Whatever, I don’t agree to three dates.”
“Two then.”
“One, and it’s in public,” she counters quickly.
“Deal. Rule two: you have to meet my mom. Video chatting is acceptable, but if she shows up here, then an in-person meal is required.”
“She doesn’t live here?” She tilts her head to the side.
“Nah, she’s in Louisiana. But she’s not gonna believe us if you don’t work on your acting skills, baby.”
The only time she isn’t throwing sass is when my tongue is down her throat. And while I think Ma will be absolutely delighted to see Coraline, so will my hard cock when she’s rubbing up on me. And those two things should never be in the same sentence, let alone the same room.
She purses her lips together, thinking over her options, no doubt. “Fine. What other rules do you have?”
“Just those two. I’m easy, baby.”
She hums under her breath for a moment. “Good. Then here are my rules: No over the top PDA?—”
“What do you classify as over the top? Making out? Ass grabbing? What if I throw you over my shoulders and stalk down the street with my hand on your ass?”
She huffs. “I think you can figure it out.”
“I know that’s not it, baby, so let’s hear ’em.” I raise my hand, palm upward, and curl my fingers in a beckoning motion.
She lifts that proud chin of hers. “No sleepovers, no hooking up or flirting with anyone else while we’re doing . . . this . And absolutely no falling in love.”
I can’t help but grin at the last part, even as it stings. “That’s quite the list. Anything else? Should I make sure to bring you breakfast every morning?”
Her lips twitch, a reluctant smile breaking through. “I’m serious, Jagger.”
“I know you are.” I step closer, my voice softening. “And I’ll play by your rules. Just know, it’s already a challenge keeping my hands off you. The rest of it? I’ll figure it out.”