Chapter 24 Violet #2
Good? Am I good? Not exactly. I feel kind of tongue-tied, which is pretty out-of-character for me. I’m no Lexie, but—oh. He’s talking about my face looking like bruised plums and tomatoes.
“Uh, yeah?” I offer. “Yeah, I’m good. Sore, but good.”
His chin dips. “Makes sense. I’ll grab you some more pain killers.”
He goes to step around me, but I stop him. “I already took some. Listen.”
“Yeah?”
Just get this over with so you can leave and go back to everything being normal, I silently remind myself.
“Can we…can we talk?” I ask.
His frown deepens. “Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?”
Okay, so he’s pretty freaking adorable when he’s confused. And the idea of him caring whether or not he’s in the doghouse is pretty freaking cute, too.
“You’re not in trouble,” I tell him.
“Okay?” A divot appears between his brows, and a drop of sweat rolls down his temple. “Come here.” He ushers me into the hallway. Once we have some semblance of privacy, he says, “Okay, I’m ready. Tell me how I’m not in trouble.”
““I just, I want to say thank you.”
The divot between his brows deepens. “You don’t need to thank me, Violet.”
The man’s joking, right?
“I do, though,” I argue. “For a lot of things, actually.” Say it, Violet.
Say it, so you can get out of here. “For last night. That’s a pretty big one.
And for the haunted house.” I let my attention slip from his face to his chest, hoping it’ll be enough to keep my train of thought on the right track for more than two seconds, but it doesn’t work.
The man’s toned chest is as distracting as his stupid face.
“I know I can be stubborn,” I force out.
“I know it would’ve been a lot easier for both of us if I’d listened and followed your instructions in the haunted house.
” I hesitate, soaking up the heat emanating from him.
“I wouldn’t have made it out of that room without you.
” My lips bunch on one side. “And I mean it in a very literal sense. I don’t, uh, I don’t like…
water. Or swimming. Or any large body of…
liquid.” I shake my head. “I’m getting off track.
I just, I feel like you should know that I know I owe you now, and, uh, I’m grateful.
Add in last night, and…if you ever need anything, I’m more than happy to help. ”
There. I said it. I thanked him. I offered to pay him back so I’m indebted for the rest of my life, and—
“Help,” he repeats.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Why’d you take the right door?” he asks.
My brows bunch, and I force myself to look up at him again. “What?”
“Why’d you take the right door when I told you to take the left? In the haunted house.” He moves even closer, closing the workout room door behind him until we’re one-on-one in the hallway. “Since you brought it up.”
I did, didn’t I?
Man, it feels like a lifetime ago, but it was only yesterday.
The haunted house. The adrenaline. The fear.
Should I tell him the truth? It sounds so…
calloused. Especially when taking into account last night’s turn of events.
But I suppose he’s earned it after jumping in and saving the day.
Twice now. “I guess I, uh, I guess I questioned whether or not you had my best interest in mind,” I murmur.
He pulls back, surprised by my answer. “Glad you think so little of me.”
“Surprised you care how I think about you in general,” I reply. “I was wrong. Clearly.” I force a smile. “You’re, uh, you’re not the guy people think you are, Jagger Harden.”
“Wrong again,” he counters. “I’m exactly the guy people think I am.”
“Not to me.” My eyes fall to his mouth. “Why is that?”
I don’t mean to say it, but the question tumbles past my lips despite my best intentions. I didn’t come down here to ask why he helped me, only to thank him for said help. But now that I’ve said it, I can’t help it. I kind of want to know.
“Good question.” He squeezes the back of his neck. “If I figure it out, I’ll let you know, yeah?”
“Sure thing.” I roll my eyes, but part of me is kind of grateful for his deflection. It keeps this safe. It keeps the boundaries clear. I’m not an exception. Only a…minor breach of character.
“First, we should focus on helping you feel better,” he decides, eyeing my bruises like a concerned doctor would. He’s right, though. My injuries are exactly what I should be focusing on.
With a sigh and a one-shouldered shrug, I reply, “Outside of pain meds, I’m not sure what other options there are unless you want to kiss it better.” I snort. “Kidding.”
Another bead of sweat drips along his sharp cheekbone and down the side of his face as he watches me.
He smells good. Sweaty, but good. I didn’t know sweat could smell good.
Honestly, it shouldn’t. But whatever’s clinging to Jagger’s skin and radiating off him until it reaches my nostrils, well…
for a girl who’s not used to waking up in a guy’s bed, let alone being cared for by said guy, it’s confusing as hell. Seriously, I need to get out of here.
“Kiss it better, huh?” he finally questions.
“I said I was kidding,” I remind him, touching the side of my nose again. “Although, if you have any actual suggestions, I’m all ears.”
“Well.” Slowly, he lifts his hand. His fingertips graze the side of my face, and he bends closer. “Let’s see.”
“What are you doing?” The words come out breathy and forced, but I can’t help it. He’s so close. Too close. Because if I turn my head an inch, maybe two, his mouth would meet mine, and that would be bad. Very bad. I’m not sure why, but…
Like wisps of smoke, my logic dissipates until all I can focus on is him. Jagger Harden. In all his sweaty, manly, half-naked glory.
“I’m making it better,” he murmurs. With the same gentleness Jagger showed me last night, he brushes his lips against the bridge of my nose before shifting to the right, then the left, peppering the softest of kisses against my bruising.
“Jagger,” I breathe out.
“Worth a shot, right?”
My heart flutters in my chest as I stand motionless, unable to think or move or reciprocate, begging my lungs to cooperate so I don’t pass out altogether.
Is this really happening? How is this really happening? How is Jagger Harden kissing me better? My bumps and bruises and—
“Where else?” he whispers.
“What?”
His breath kisses my cheeks as he lifts his head enough to meet my gaze. “Where else does it hurt?”
I lift my face a little higher, showcasing my split lip.
He kisses the side of my mouth. With his hand on my chin, he guides my face to the opposite side, then mirrors the movement, kissing the less tender edge while finally broaching into safe—and totally uninjured—territory.
My core clenches on contact, and it shocks the hell out of me.
This isn’t even a kiss. This is…I don’t even know.
All I know is my body’s reaction to such a simple—and pretty freaking innocent—touch is enough to make me lightheaded.
Unable to help myself, I turn toward his mouth.
But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he kisses me fully.
It’s just as soft and sweet and hesitant.
The heat of his mouth and the gentle dip of his tongue as it slips between my lips makes my knees weak.
I press my hand to his chest, searching for balance, my eyelids fluttering in disbelief as his hands find either side of the wall behind me.
I’m caged in, surrounded by all things Jagger, and damn, if it doesn’t leave me reeling.
The kiss is salty from the sweat clinging to his skin, making my craving for him grow, so I open my mouth wider, desperate to taste more of him.
His tongue sweeps against mine as he pulls away.
“Where else, Little Thief?” he rasps against me.
Oh, boy, could I name another place or two screaming for his attention. My core pulses with anticipation at the prospect alone when the door to the gym pushes open, and I jerk back.
“Shit, sorry.” Hawke closes the door again, blanketing us in privacy. But it’s too late. The moment’s ruined, and reality is a fickle bitch.
I lift my hand from Jagger’s chest, carefully pressing my fingertips against the side of my mouth. It does nothing to erase the tingling from his kiss.
Holy shit. I just kissed Jagger Harden.
Yeah, that’s not problematic at all. Especially considering who Jagger Harden is.
He’s used to getting girls. Flirting with them and hooking up with them and discarding them like last night’s sushi.
Which, let’s be real, is exactly what I am.
“I should, uh...” I lower my hand and peek up at him. “I should probably go.”
“Violet—”
“Thanks again, Jagger,” I breathe out, both grateful and a little annoyed by the sudden shift in the air.
Then again, it’s for the best. It’s for the best. “I owe you one.” I smile.
“Two, actually. If you count the haunted house and then…” I glance up toward the ceiling as if pointing to his bedroom upstairs, though I’m unable to actually say it out loud.
Instead, I clear my throat. “See you around.”
Darting under his arm still pressed to the wall beside my head, I hobble toward the front of the house like a wounded bat out of hell, terrified that if Jagger had kept going, I’d turn into Persephone and never leave.
“Don’t forget your appointment,” he calls.
Stopping short at the front door, my hand hovering over the ornate handle, I frown. “What did you say?”
“Your appointment. Something about…housing?” He rubs at his jaw as I look over my shoulder at him. “Guess you’ll have to pack your shit after.”
“How did you…” I shake my head and pull my cell from my pocket.
There’s only two percent battery left. Perfect.
But what’s worse is the time staring back at me.
I knew I slept later than I normally do, but I didn’t think I was this late.
Why the hell didn’t I confirm the time when I decided to track down a half-naked Jagger and almost make out with him in the hallway?
Wait. Because he was half-naked and sexy as hell.
That’s why. Patting my pockets, I complete a mental checklist of everything I brought with me, grateful I thought to snag all my things from Jagger’s room when I walked out of it.
Even if I leave now, I still might be late for my appointment with Ms. Thomas, and if I don’t get my keys today, I’m seriously going to be so screwed.
It’s fine. Everything will be fine. I’ll just grab my keys from Ms. Thomas, meet my new roommate, then go back to The Drift and grab my things.
See? Totally fine. I just need to hurry.
“See you around, Little Thief,” Jagger calls.
Ignoring him, I head outside, praying Ms. Thomas is a patient woman.