CHAPTER 37 #2
He groaned against my neck, and his teeth grazed my pulse. “Say it again.”
“Jagger,” I cried out desperately.
He rewarded me with a harder thrust, his hips snapping forward until I was pressed fully against the window, breasts flattened, and my breath fogging the glass in short, frantic bursts. The city sprawled beneath us, and I somehow felt powerful . . . wanted . . . seen.
His hand slid from my throat to my jaw, turning my face so I could see him in the reflection. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, but there was something softer there now—something that looked almost like awe.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped. “Look at you. Naked against our window, taking my cock like you were made for it. Like you were made for me.”
I moaned and pushed back harder, chasing the stretch and the fullness .
. . the way he filled every empty place inside me until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.
His free hand slid down my stomach, and he found my clit and circled it with ruthless precision, slow at first, then faster, matching the perfect rhythm of his thrusts.
I arched my back, pushing my ass higher, taking him deeper. “Jagger . . .”
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded. “Tell me how bad you need to come on my cock.”
“I need it,” I gasped. “I need to come. Please . . . don’t stop.”
He snarled low in his throat and fucked me harder, his hips slamming forward with bruising force. “Come for me,” he ordered roughly. “Come all over my cock while the whole fucking city watches you fall apart for me.”
The orgasm didn’t crash. It built like a storm gathering force—starting as a tight coil in my core that unraveled outward in slow, shuddering ripples, each one pulling him farther inside with greedy insistence.
My body gripped him in deep, insistent squeezes .
. . long, rolling contractions that locked around every ridge, every vein, refusing to release until the friction turned electric.
His piercing scraped that sensitive bundle of nerves with each retreat, amplifying the build until my thighs quivered and my toes curled against the floor.
I moaned, and my fingers scraped the glass, my nails leaving faint trails in the condensation as pleasure surged through me like liquid fire, heating my blood until it felt as if it might boil over.
My hips bucked involuntarily, grinding back against him, drawing out the sensation until stars burst behind my eyelids and my breath came in short, desperate hitches.
Jagger kept thrusting through every shuddering aftershock, drawing them out until I sobbed from the overstimulation, until my legs gave out and he had to catch me with one arm banded around my waist.
He suddenly pulled out, leaving me achingly empty. Before I could catch my breath, his hands were on my hips, spinning me around with effortless strength. My back hit the cool glass as we faced each other fully.
The city lights washed over his face in shifting gold and blue, and I could see everything in his eyes: raw hunger, fierce need, and something deeper, something that made my chest ache with how much I felt it mirrored inside me.
He thrust back into me, his eyes locked on mine so I couldn’t look away. His hands slid under my thighs, lifting me higher, pinning me between his body and the window as he moved.
Our lips met . . . and it was like our story had already been written somewhere between us and he was just sealing it into place.
When he finally pulled back, he didn’t go far.
His forehead rested against mine, our breaths mixing in the small space between us, his eyes searching my face as if this moment mattered more than anything else in the world. “I love you,” he said quietly.
“I love you so fucking much, Eden.”
For a second I could only stare at him, the weight of those words sinking in, spreading through me until it felt like my heart might burst.
And suddenly hearing them from Jagger Thatcher made me understand something that should have been obvious all along.
I had never loved anyone before.
Whatever I had felt for Ryan had been something that fit neatly into the life I thought I was supposed to have. It had never filled me up like this or made my pulse race or my chest ache or my whole world tilt on its axis.
This—Jagger—was different.
This was overwhelming.
All-consuming.
This was the kind of love that made everything else in your life rearrange itself around it.
My hands slid up into his hair, and I pulled him back down, kissing him hard enough to steal his breath the way he had stolen mine.
“I love you, too,” I whispered against his mouth, my voice trembling under the weight of it.
“I love you, Jagger.” His name felt sacred when I said it, and I brushed another kiss across his lips. “Always.”
He exhaled as if the confession had punched the air out of him. His thrusts slowed even more, changing into long, rolling strokes that let me feel every inch, every pulse, every shudder that ran through him.
Jagger reached up to cradle my face. “I’m never letting you go,” he murmured against my lips. “Never.”
“Never,” I echoed.
He buried his face in my neck as he spilled inside me, and I clung to him, my legs tightening around his waist as we rode out the aftershocks until we were both trembling.
“I love you,” he said again as he carried me down the hall to our bed, still buried deep, like he couldn’t bear even an inch of space between us.
We collapsed onto the sheets together, our hearts beating in the same frantic cadence.
And for the first time in my life, a man’s promise didn’t feel like something fragile.
It felt like something unbreakable.