CHAPTER TEN #2
“We’re almost done, Rosebush. I can feel it.” A gleam entered his eyes as they narrowed and focused behind his glasses on all the pieces in front of him.
“Rosebush?” I asked, scanning the table for the tailpiece of the jaguar I’d been working on for what felt like forty-three days.
His smirk had me clenching my thighs together, but he didn’t look up.
“Yeah. ’Cause you’re pretty, like a rosebush.
And you smell nice, like a rosebush, but there’s always that possibility that you might also stab me.
” He tipped his gaze to mine just slightly, the corner of his mouth closer to me, lifting higher than the other, giving him a downright diabolical, sexy look. “Like a rosebush.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine. I’ll give you the accuracy on that one.” My cheeks filled with fire. “And thank you for calling me pretty and saying I smelled nice.” My bottom lip rolled inward, and I plunged my teeth into it for a moment. “You, uh … you smell nice too.”
His snort was soft, and I could feel his eyes on me as I studied the puzzle pieces, gasping when I finally located the jaguar’s freaking tail.
We worked in mostly silence for another hour. The storm outside howled, and the rain pummeled the windowpanes. But we remained warm and safe inside. Warm and safe, thanks to Jagger.
My phone said it was five minutes past midnight when the final puzzle piece sat between us on the table. Our eyes locked and a small, playful smile lifted his mouth. “Would you care to do the honors, Ms. Aaronson?”
I stared at the arbitrary piece with green foliage on it.
We’d worked on the puzzle together all day, while also making sure the rest of the guests were taken care of, and Lenora wasn’t overwhelmed.
Jagger chopped wood. We made chili, and we chaperoned a bunch of wild senior citizens.
It was a day that could have a been a disaster, and yet, it turned out to be anything but.
I shook my head and pushed the puzzle piece toward him. “You do it.”
One brow lifted. “How about we both do it?”
The snort of amusement came out of my nose before I could stop it. “Sorry,” I said, covering my mouth with my hand, but still smiling.
“Yeah, it’s corny. But seriously. This day could have been shit. Particularly since we haven’t necessarily been on amicable terms in … years. But we put our differences aside. I think we both deserve to close this day out by putting in the final piece.”
I rolled my eyes, but picked it up and held one side, while his big ham of a hand came in and two fingers gripped the other side. His blue eyes glittered back at me in the lantern light as we carefully carried the final piece to the bottom left, where it needed to go. “On three?” I asked.
“On three? Or after three?” he teased.
“Oh, just put the damn piece in.” Chuckling, I tugged his hand and together we counted. “One … two … three.” Then pressed the piece into place, our fingers touching, his slightly overlapping mine.
I swallowed and tipped my eyes to his. “Thank you. This was fun.”
He nodded. “Thank you as well. I agree. I enjoyed this stranded power outage more than I thought I might.”
We still touched over the now-finished puzzle. Our fingers hadn’t moved an inch, and now we were just staring at each other.
Thank god Jagger had the sense to clear his throat, break eye contact, and remove his hand, because I was frozen like an ice queen in place. Unable to move. And not sure I wanted to.
“I’m going to stoke the stove, then head to bed,” he said, moaning a little as he stood up and stretched his arms over his head, showing off a small sliver of his very ripped midriff when his too tight T-shirt rode up a little. “You staying up?”
I shook my head. “No, I think I’ll come to bed too.”
All he did was grunt as he made his way to the woodstove, put on a few more pieces, and checked the dampers.
I made sure all the doors were locked—front and back—grabbed the lantern and followed the man with the beard, crooked smile, and broad shoulders up the pitch-black stairs to the room we shared.
“You go ahead first,” he said, jerking his chin toward the bathroom door when we entered the slightly chilly bedroom. There weren’t enough bricks for us to take some to bed too, but we figured we’d be fine. The older guests needed them more than we did.
Nodding, I thanked him and closed the door behind me, using the light from my phone to guide me as I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and gave myself a thorough sponge-bath everywhere else.
“Don’t be stupid,” I murmured, staring at myself in the mirror. “Don’t. Be. Stupid.” With an affirmative nod, I exited the bathroom, flicked my gaze to his, tossed on a big smile and said, “All yours.”
Jagger climbed off the bed where he waited his turn and nodded before entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself.
I exhaled through thinly parted lips before hastily changing into a new pair of underwear and my pajama pants.
Nothing was clean exactly, but I never felt right about going to sleep in what I wore all day.
Climbing under the covers, I stared up at the antique floral ceiling tiles. I couldn’t remember seeing those before. Were they there last night?
Duh!
Growling at myself and my stupidity, I clenched my molars. Of course they were there last night. Lenora didn’t have our bedroom ceiling replaced in one day, during a power outage and storm. For fuck’s sake. I had no excuse for my lunacy either. I was stone-cold sober.
I growled again, then started to count the tiles starting from the far left corner.
I’d successfully counted all thirty-eight tiles four times when Jagger emerged from the bathroom. He stalked that monstrous frame with the wide shoulders and defined traps across the room to his duffel bag where he ripped his T-shirt off. “You’re cool if I sleep shirtless?” he asked.
“Uh … yeah.”
“Cool. Thanks. That shirt rubs.” He lifted his arm to inspect the spot, and fuck me, my clit started to throb at the sight of his armpit hair. His motherfucking armpit hair. What was wrong with me?
He ran his hand over a spot I assume was red and slightly tender, but I couldn’t actually see any discoloration because of the dimmed lantern light on his nightstand.
I also actively avoided looking at him. God forbid I got even more turned on by something weird—like a mole on his back or something.
He put his arm down and wandered over to the seating area at the window, gathering a bunch of pillows into his arms. But that just showcased his arms. His well-defined, veiny, bunched and flexed arms.
“Jagger?”
Spinning around with an armful of pillows, he jerked his bearded chin at me. “Yeah?”
“What if I want you to show me?”
I totally expected him to smirk, throw it in my face that he was right, and I was weak and wrong, and he was the winner in this game of sexy chicken. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything for an agonizing moment, he simply stared at me.
I kicked the blankets off, embarrassment making me unbearably hot, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Never mind. Ignore me. I’m an idiot.” Burying my face in my hands, preparing to sleep in the bathtub, I beelined it for the bathroom, but he caught me.
“Raina, stop.”
I still cradled my face, but his arms on my shoulders forced me to stand still.
“Look at me.”
Spreading my fingers, I peered out at him from between them.
Gently, he peeled my hands from my face. “You’re not an idiot. And I’m not going to ignore you.”
I glanced away, up to the top left corner of the room.
All he did was move his body so that he was in my direct line of sight.
“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing.
I still am. Your husband—may he rest in peace, if that’s what you think he deserved—sounds like a shithead.
Like a selfish bastard who didn’t know a good woman when he had it.
I think every woman should know what it feels like to be taken care of—” His gaze turned warning.
“Even strong-headed, independent women like you, Rosebush.”
I swallowed.
“Raina Aaronson, would you like me to go down on you?” His gaze bore into me, but not an ounce of teasing was in those soulful, blue eyes, deeper than the deepest lake, and just as mysterious.
I swallowed again, but nodded.
He gave me a curt nod, took my hand, and led me back to the bed. “Lay down. Pants and panties off.”
“I—”
His brow lifted. “If you want this, I’ll need you to be naked from the waist down.”
My heart threatened to beat clear out of my chest as my fingers fumbled and shook in an attempt to hook into my waistband.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” he said.
“You’re supposed to enjoy this.” He came over, placed one knee into the bed and grabbed the bottoms of my loose pajama pants, then, like a waiter removing a tablecloth without disturbing the fine crystal, he yanked them off my legs in one quick tug, leaving me in just my panties.
I gasped, which only made his smile grow wider. “I have many tricks up my sleeve, Rosebush.”
Swallowing, and more aroused than ever, I tracked him as he crossed the room and went to the bathroom, washed his hands and returned.
“Light on or off?” he asked.
Fuck .
A part of me really wanted to watch. After all, that was my porn of choice, but also, I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing him down there.
I might get too into my head and never get off.
I didn’t expect to get off anyway, but a girl could dream.
Maybe it would be easier this first time if I didn’t watch him.
First time ? Are you planning to make a habit of this?
“Elsa?” he asked, rocking me out of my internal argument. “Light on or off?”
“On!” I blurted out.
He nodded and left the lantern on, dimming it just a little more, then he climbed back onto the bed. His hooded gaze raked me from my face down to my toes, widening just a touch when his scan paused on my simple burgundy briefs.
All I could hear was my pulse raging in my ears as tingles of desire and worry zipped through me. Goosebumps rose across my bare thighs, even though the room wasn’t particularly cold.
“Would you like to remove your underwear, or should I?” he asked, his voice a raspy timber that made my nipples tighten.
“I … you … um …”
“How about we do it like the last puzzle piece, hmm? Together.”
I nodded and, with shaky hands, reached for the top of my underwear. His enormous hands fell over top of mine and together, we removed the thin scrap of fabric.
I chewed on my bottom lip, unable to look directly at him as his gaze drifted down to the small patch of trimmed hair between my legs.
No, I wasn’t a waxer, or a shaver. I used a trimmer and kept a neat little landing strip—not that any man had ever landed there.
When I was with Josiah, I was expected to have a full red bush of fire because only sluts, whores, and harlots groomed their genitals.
The fire crotch was one of the first things to go when he died.
Not that I had a problem with pubic hair in general.
You do you. I had a problem with being controlled.
However, after trying every variation from Brazilian bald, to tidy triangle, I realized I liked a bit of hair. Just a tidy strip. That was me.
Sucking in a deep breath, I held it while he lifted his gaze back to my face with agonizing slowness. “Be your bossy self, okay?”
I blinked.
“Don’t pretend you like something when you don’t. Tell me to stop, or keep going. Or do something else. You are in control here. Not me. I am … yours to use.”
Yours to use .
Oooh, there he went with that lopsided smirk again. He had to know the effect it had on women. On me. He wasn’t an idiot. I’m sure I was blushing. My pupils were probably dilated when he said that, and I was panting like a dog in a hot car—minus my tongue hanging out. But give it time.
I blinked some more.
“If at any point you don’t want to do this anymore, just say ‘stop’ and I’ll stop. Okay? There’s no need for some kooky safe word or anything. Stop will do just fine.”
More blinking.
“Raina,” he said, his voice deep, dark, and demanding. “Tell me you understand.”
“I … I understand.”
He nodded. “Good.”
My chest rose and fell with shallow, quick breaths, and my lower belly was an uncontrolled orgy of butterflies.
“I’m going to start with no fingers. You let me know if you want them, okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Ready?”
Breathing out through my mouth, I nodded again. “Yeah.”
Finally, he chuckled. “Relax, Raina. This is supposed to feel good. You’re acting like you’re going in for a root canal without any anesthetic.
” With that sexy smirk, he scooted down the bed and tried to gently pry my legs apart, but they wouldn’t move.
I had my ankles crossed and my knees glued tight together.
He tipped his eyes up to me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m just … n-nervous.”
Understanding rushed into his eyes. “Okay, we’ll start slow.
” Then he pressed his mouth to the top of my thigh and kissed it.
He did it again, in just a slightly different spot, and again.
He moved across and down each thigh, as his fingers gently snuck beneath my left knee and drew erotic little circles.
Slowly, my muscles relaxed from how good even this felt and with a sigh, I allowed him to uncross my ankles and shoulder my legs apart.
He slid lower onto his belly, still kissing and swirling his tongue, only this time it was on my inner thighs, and closer and closer to where I now throbbed for his touch. He pressed a kiss over my pussy lips and I sucked in a soft breath. “How are you doing so far?” he asked.
“I’m … I’m okay.”
“Just okay?” I didn’t have to see him to know he was giving me that crooked grin of amusement.
“I’m good.”
“Ready for more?”
My response was no more than a whispered, “Yeah.”
“Okay. Remember, you can stop me at anytime.”
“I know.”
Hooking his muscular arms under my thighs, he positioned me so my knees were bent a little, my feet planted on the mattress.
His eyes locked with mine. The reflection of my face in his glasses glinted back at me in the muted light of the lantern. “Try to enjoy yourself, okay?”
I swallowed again. “Okay.”
Then he lowered his head.