7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Jagger
We barely spoke in the car.
He’d called it from the club and it was waiting outside the club entrance.
He got in beside me and took my hand, and the whole way uptown ran his thumb over my knuckles and looked out the window like a man holding himself on a very short leash.
I was still in my chef’s whites under my coat.
I still smelled like burnt sugar. My hair was a disaster and my hands had a faint dusting of something on them.
I’d never in my life felt more like I wanted someone, and the silence in the car was so loaded I could barely sit still in it.
Twice he looked over at me. Both times he didn’t say anything. The second time he lifted my hand and pressed his mouth to the inside of my wrist, right over the old burn scar, and held it there for a long moment with his eyes closed, and I felt it everywhere.
The doorman said good evening. The elevator ride felt endless. The second the apartment door shut behind us, Jagger had me pinned against it.
“I’ve been patient,” he growled against my mouth, hands already shoving my coat off my shoulders. “A whole fucking week. I want it on the record that I’ve been extremely patient.”
“Noted,” I breathed.
“I’m done being fucking patient.”
“Good.”
He kissed me like he’d been starving for days.
My coat hit the floor. His fingers worked open my chef’s coat buttons with impatient hunger, pushing it off me.
Underneath I wore only a thin black top, and he groaned low in his throat when his hands found my body, sliding up my sides, thumbs brushing over my nipples through the fabric.
“Fuck, Willa. You have no idea what you do to me.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes dark and intense. “You ran that kitchen tonight like you owned every single person in it. Watching you win like that made me so hard I could barely sit through the rest of service.”
“You liked watching me work?”
“I loved watching you dominate that room. I loved watching you fucking win.” His hand cradled my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “Bedroom. Now. I’m not fucking you against this door like some desperate teenager. You deserve better.”
He took my hand and pulled me through the apartment straight to his bedroom. The moment we were inside he turned me to face him. In the low light from the city skyline he looked ravenous.
“Last chance to tell me to slow down,” he said, voice rough.
“Don’t you dare slow down.” His control snapped.
He stripped my top off in one rough motion, then unhooked my bra and tossed it aside. His mouth was on my breasts instantly, sucking hard on one nipple while his hand teased the other. I moaned, fingers threading through his hair.
“Jagger…”
He dropped to his knees, kissing down my stomach as he pulled my pants and underwear off. He spread my thighs and looked up at me, eyes burning.
“I’ve been thinking about tasting you for weeks.” He buried his face between my legs without warning. His tongue licked broad and slow over my clit, then flicked fast. When he slid two fingers inside me and curled them just right, my knees buckled.
“Oh god… right there,” I gasped.
He didn’t stop. He licked and sucked and fucked me with his fingers until I was shaking, gripping his hair, begging. He kept me right on the edge, then pushed me over. I came hard, crying out his name as my thighs clamped around his head.
Only when I was still trembling did he stand, strip off the rest of his clothes, and lay me back on the bed.
This was the first time I’d been able to get a proper look at him.
Broad through the shoulders, lean, the kind of body that came from a man who had the time and the means to maintain it.
He was all sharp lines and strong muscles, and utterly edible.
I put my hand flat on his chest to feel the hard muscle underneath; his heart was going faster than his face let on, and that did something to me. The calm exterior and the hammering pulse underneath. The proof that I rattled him as much as he rattled me.
“You’re nervous?” I asked.
“I’m not nervous. I’m barely holding it together.” He caught my wandering hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. “I’ve thought about this since the night you handed me a soufflé and told me it wasn’t revolutionary. Forgive me if I’m slightly undone.”
He braced over me, cock heavy against my thigh.
“Still with me?” he asked, voice strained.
“Yes. Please, Jagger.”
He pushed into me in one deep, slow thrust. We both groaned at the stretch, the perfect fit. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to mine.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he whispered. “So tight… so wet for me.”
Then he started moving. Deep, steady strokes at first that gradually turned harder, faster. He fucked me like he’d been holding back for far too long, one hand gripping my hip, the other braced beside my head.
“That’s it, baby. Take every inch,” he rasped against my ear. “You’re so fucking perfect. Look at me.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist, meeting every thrust. He angled his hips and hit that perfect spot again and again until I shattered around him a second time, clenching hard.
“Jagger—!”
He cursed, pace faltering. “That’s my girl. Come on my cock again.”
His hand slipped between us, rubbing my clit, and I broke apart even harder.
He followed right after with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself deep as he came.
Afterward he collapsed half on top of me, breathing hard.
He rolled us so I was tucked against his chest, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist, holding me like he never planned to let go.
We lay there in the quiet for a long moment, hearts slowing together while the city glowed beyond the windows.
“You’re crying?” he murmured into my hair, voice soft and warm.
“A little.” I laughed shakily, wiping at my eyes.
“Tell me why, darling.”
I swallowed hard, searching for the words.
“Nobody’s ever made me feel like there’s nothing wrong with me. Like I’m… a good place to be. Inside my own skin. You make me feel wanted. Safe. Cherished. I didn’t know how badly I’d been missing that until you gave it back to me tonight.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then his arms tightened around me, almost fiercely, and his voice came out rough with emotion.
“You’re the best place I’ve ever been, Willa. I’ve had a lot of nice places in my life. None of them felt like home. You do.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “I realized it tonight watching you own that kitchen, and I’ve been sitting on it for hours. You’re home to me now.”
I turned in his arms to face him. The look in his eyes — open, vulnerable, full of something deep and real — stole what was left of my breath.
“That’s a very smooth line after sex,” I whispered, trying to tease even as tears slipped down my cheeks.
“It would be if I said it to other women. I don’t. I’ve never said it to anyone.” He brushed my tears away with his thumb. “And I’m slightly pissed at how smooth it was.”
I laughed softly through the tears, and he pulled me closer, tucking my head under his chin and wrapping himself around me like he intended to stay exactly there forever.
“Stay,” he said quietly. “Don’t make me put you in a car tonight. I’ve sent you home too many times and hated every single one. Stay with me.”
“I have nothing to wear tomorrow.”
“You’ll wear my shirt. Or nothing at all. I genuinely don’t care which. Just stay.”
“Okay.”
He smiled against my hair and held me even tighter. The last thing I felt before sleep took me was the steady beat of his heart against mine and his lips pressing softly to my temple, whispering something too quiet for me to catch — but it felt a lot like forever.