“I would have taken you.”
“I know, but I didn’t know where you were or whether or not you were coming back so . . .” I shrug, licking my lips. His eyes go there, so I look away, my face burning with memories.
“You regret last night.” His voice is low, but hard, and when I look at him his jaw is tight and his eyes are cloudy and I know he’s pissed.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to.” He faces forward and before I can say anything else, the professor starts speaking.
The entire class, I have a knot in the pit of my stomach and I hate it. I hate that he thinks I regret it. I want to scream that I don’t regret it at all, it’s just . . . it’s a tricky situation and I don’t want to develop feelings for him. He’s a master at casual hookups and I’m a novice. I just need time to catch up. When class is over, Jagger bolts out of the room like his feet are on fire and I don’t get the chance to remedy what happened. My phone buzzes and I see Lawrence’s face on the screen. I push the side button to ignore the call and sigh heavily. I still haven’t signed the paper.
The bar is a blur. Marissa keeps talking to me about some guy she’s dating, a slightly older guy who’s in the middle of developing a start-up and may move to California.
“He asked me to go with him,” she says as she pours one of the beers on tap for tonight.
“Are you going to?”
“Why the hell not?” She shrugs a shoulder. “I’m waiting tables here. Might as well wait them there.”
“I guess that’s true.” I smile. “It’ll be an adventure.”
“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. He’s still working on it. He wouldn’t leave till next year and who knows what will happen from now to then.”
I think about that the entire car ride to my dad’s practice. A year is a long time. This time last year, I was rooming with Kelsey, my first friend here and teammate, and we were arguing over empty cereal bowls. I was with Lawrence the majority of the time and truly thought we had a future together. Of course, that was before I found out he was a lying cheater. If you’d asked me then, even despite my annoyance at him half of the time, I would have still told you I might marry him. I mean, that’s what you did, right? You got into long relationships with that end goal in mind? I didn’t know anymore and now I knew less. When I get to Dad’s, Donna is walking out.
“You’re leaving?” I look at the time on my phone. “This early?”
“I am.” She smiles. “Your father’s in his office. Lock up when you go inside.”
“I will.” I frown as I walk in and do as instructed, then shut my eyes momentarily before walking over to Dad’s office. He’s on the phone, so he holds a finger up to me.
“Is he there now?” he asks whoever he’s speaking to. “Where’s Barnes? Are you fucking kidding me? Yeah.” He sighs, glancing at the Rolex Mom gave him for his birthday last year. “Yeah, I guess I can make it. Prep him.” He hangs up and I stop biting my lip.
“Surgery?”
“Yep. It was Barnes’s day, but he felt sick, left, and tested positive for the flu.”
“Oh, no.” I frown. “So you’re working late?”
“Unfortunately.” He stands with a heavy sigh as he sorts out paperwork. “Jagger should be coming in tonight, but I won’t be able to help, so he’ll have to come back another night.”
“I’ll let him know.” I nod.
“Do you remember your stretches?” Dad walks around the desk and walks toward me. My eyes widen. He can’t possibly be asking me what I think he’s asking.
“Dad, no way.”
“Just teach him the ones he can do at home. You don’t have to stretch his arm for him if you’re not comfortable with it, but you’ve been through it, so if you are comfortable . . . ” He tilts his head slightly as he leans in to kiss the top of my head. “I love you, J. See you this weekend. Lock up when you leave.”
“Okay,” I call out, too shocked to fully comprehend what he’s just asked of me.
What I should have done was ask if stretching Jagger’s arm will let me off the hook of cleaning the floors, but I just . . . I take a deep breath and go from room to room to see which one I can use. Not that I need a room to teach him a few stretches. I can do that right here in the hall. Still, I can’t help the feeling of importance that seeps in as I think about playing physical therapist for the day. I decide room four is the best one. It’s small and doesn’t have all of the high-tech stuff the other ones have, but it’s the room I rehabbed my shoulder in five years ago and it’s cozy. I’m walking back to the main area when I hear the knock on the door. My heart picks up speed as I walk over and unlock it, opening it for Jagger. He’s wearing black basketball shorts and a baby blue T-shirt with a football on it.
“My dad had to leave,” I say, but Jagger is already walking past me and into the practice. I shut the door and lock it, turning to face him. “He’s in surgery now so he told me to teach you some stretches or help you stretch your arm. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Whatever I’m comfortable with?” His eyes are alight with humor when he turns to face me.
“Yeah. I mean I’m okay with it if you are.”
He chuckles quietly, shaking his head as he looks at the ground.
“I don’t see how that’s funny.” I start walking to the available room and hear him walking behind me. When we get there, I walk in and shut the door behind us, then think better of it, but leave it shut anyway.
“It’s funny,” he says, taking his shirt off over his head with a wince. “Because I had my fingers and dick inside of you just last night, so I don’t understand why I’d be uncomfortable with this.” He raises an eyebrow at me as he tosses his shirt onto the chair across the room. “You on the other hand are full of regret.”
“Oh my God.” I feel every word pound into me just like he did last night and busy myself with the table he has to lie on, ignoring the way I’m blushing furiously.
Lawrence was never a dirty talker. Not like this. When I’m ready, but still blushing, I turn to face him. It’s a mistake. He’s not wearing a shirt and seeing his ripped body like that on full display is a reminder of what we did, a reminder that makes my fingers shake because of how badly I want to reach out and scratch every perfect cut as he reams into me. God help me. Jagger starts to close the distance between us, his gaze heating with each step. When he reaches me, he lifts my chin up so that I’m looking at him.
“Tell me you don’t regret me.” His words are a low growl.
“I don’t regret you,” I whisper, unsure of why tears are suddenly springing to my eyes.
Maybe because all those years ago when I walked out after we had sex, I had the awful feeling that he would think I regretted him. Maybe because all these years that’s the reason I’ve dodged him, because I couldn’t face the fact that I definitely wanted him more than I cared to admit and didn’t want to look in his eyes to see whether or not there was hatred there, or worse, pain.
“Tell me what you need, Josephine,” he says, bringing his hand from my chin to the nape of my neck.
I tilt my head back and he kisses the exposed curve of my neck, he traces wet kisses up and down slowly. My nipples pebble in my shirt and my hands fly to the waistband of his shorts. He pulls away, desire clouding his eyes, igniting a fire inside me that makes me feel exposed, feral.
“I want you,” I manage.
“Hm. How do you want me?” Another growl, this time as he kisses me, his lips soft, his tongue lashing as hard as the grip he has on my hair.
“Any way. Any way I can have you.” I whimper, but I don’t want him to stop.
I lean into him, against him, wanting more, begging for more. Anything to douse the fire and sate this ridiculous need for him. With his free hand, he starts undoing the button of my jeans. He’s still kissing me as he lowers them and only pulls away to take my shirt off quickly before his lips attack mine again. He takes off my bra quickly and lo
wers it slowly, reaching for my nipple and tugging it. I moan at that, pushing against him, needing more. He pulls away again and lets go of the hair on the nape of my neck, backing up an inch to study me.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, like it’s a curse, like he’s upset.
I huff out a laugh because I could say the same about him. I’m just scared to say anything at all right now, not wanting to break this spell. He dips his head and pulls my breast into his mouth, licking, tugging, making me squirm. He uses one hand to steady himself on the bed behind me and runs the other down my stomach and into my panties. A sound elicits from his lips, the guttural vibration of it against my nipple is almost too much. I grab a fistful of his full, messy hair with one hand and his hand beside me with the other. He lets go of my nipple, a soft pop in the otherwise quiet room, and makes his way up to my neck, burying his face there as he begins to stroke my folds with his fingers.
“So wet. So fucking wet,” he groans against me. “Get on this thing.”
I comply, kicking off my jeans and pulling myself onto the patient bed behind me. The white paper that covers it scrunches beneath my fists and Jagger lowers himself to his knees, pulling my thong to the side as he settles between my legs and licks along the seam of my folds. I grip the paper harder, letting out a huff of a breath.
“So good,” he murmurs against me, biting the inside of my thigh before sucking on my clit.
“Oh my . . . don’t stop.” I buck toward his mouth, letting go of the paper with one hand, and grab a fistful of his hair.
He groans against my clit and brings his hands up to grip my ass, pulling me against his mouth as he moves hungrily, his tongue unyielding. I can barely breathe, my heart quickening more than ever before as the shock of the orgasm hits me. Jagger continues licking, teasing, biting my thighs as I come down from ecstasy. When he stands, he’s already pulling down his basketball shorts and briefs, freeing himself between us. I reach out and wrap a hand around him, stroking as he gets closer to me. He hands me the condom wrapper and I take it, letting go of him only to slide it on slowly. With the way his muscles are all tight, I know he’s doing everything he can not to pounce.
He reaches behind my neck and pulls my face close to his as I position him at my entrance, and he kisses me deeply as he slides inside of me slowly. He doesn’t fuck me fast and hard today, but takes my breath away nonetheless. His thrusts are shallow at first as his tongue dances with mine. His fingers pinch my right nipple and when I moan into his mouth, he begins to move a little faster, a little deeper, his girth stretching me to invite him in fully. My hips tip just slightly, meeting his thrusts, which become harder, but still languid, and I reach around his neck to maintain balance. He pulls away from the kiss tentatively, his dick still sliding in and out of me as he meets my gaze, and it’s a lot, too much. I kiss him again so that I don’t have to look into his eyes and try to decipher what’s there and what’s not. So that I don’t have to have my heart broken again just yet, not by him, not by anyone. So that I don’t have to end this in fear of that, and when I deepen the kiss with a gasp because I’m coming again, he fucks me even harder.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jo
“We’re going to a party tonight.”
“Another pre-med frat party?”
“No. A regular frat party.” Misty laughs in my ears. I have earphones on while I clean up the bar for the night shift.
“I work until ten.”
“That’s fine. I’ll pick you up at eleven-thirty. Don’t worry, we’ll Uber.”
“Is it a Duke party?”
“Actually, it’s on your side of town.” She laughs. “Dylan invited me, which means Bobby will be there.”
“Which means you’re playing with fire because when Mitch finds out he’s going to have a cow.” I smile as I say the words because my sister doesn’t care if Mitch has a cow or a herd, she’ll do what she wants just the same.
“Mitch and I are history, Jo. Over. Period. Besides, Dylan and I are super casual. I’m not getting involved with another baseball player.”
“True.” I bite my lip. I still haven’t told her about Jagger and I don’t think I’m quite ready to yet. “So where’s the party? By my house?”
“Like two blocks away, but we’re wearing heels and short dresses so we’re not walking.”
“What?” I stop wiping the counter. “You picked out my outfit?”
“Dude, yes. I don’t want you wearing skinnies and a band T-shirt yet again.”
I keep frowning, but I understand what my sister’s getting at, so I don’t even comment. I don’t mind dressing up. I think of Jagger and wonder whether or not I should tell him about the party, maybe invite him? No. I shake my head. This is casual. Inviting him to a party feels like I’m expecting more and I don’t want to come off as the girl who falls for the guy just because she had amazing sex with him twice. This is yet another reason I should tell my sister what’s happening. I sigh heavily.
“What?” Misty’s distracted. “If you want to wear a damn band T-shirt, fine, but you have to at least wear a skirt.”
“No.” I laugh half-heartedly. “It’s not about that. I’ll wear a dress. I just . . . I have to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
“I hooked up with Jagger,” I whisper, looking around as if I’m not completely alone at the bar. The kitchen people are here, but they never come out front.
“What?” she asks loudly. “Wait. What? When?”
“It’s happened twice.” I bite my lip.
“And?”
“And what?”
“How was it?”
“Good. Really good. Better than good.” I stand up straight, catching myself before I say anything else that makes me sound like I’m falling for him. “But it’s casual. We both agreed.”
“Well, yeah, it’s casual. Jagger doesn’t even date.” She laughs, then stops. “Does he?”
“Apparently not.”
“Are you feeling okay about it?”
“I am.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Shocking, right?”
“Not shocking. That’s what happens when you decide to take matters into your own hands and do what men have been doing for centuries. Have fun with it. Don’t get invested.”
“I’m doing that.”
“So you’re allowed to see other people since it’s casual and all? Have you spoken about that?”
“Yeah. He says he doesn’t care if I date.”
“Okay, good because Dylan just texted saying that Bobby’s coming with, so it’ll be a very casual double date.”
“That’s fine. I guess.” I put the used cloth in the bucket where all the dirty rags go, take out a clean one, and walk toward the door, unlocking it and pulling the cute Sangria sign my aunt drew for it. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
“Be ready by eleven-thirty!”
“I will.”
My shift is slow. Normally on weekends it picks up, but for some odd reason there are only five tables here tonight, all drinking beer and watching a Tottenham soccer match. I know this because I had to look for the television channel while they yelled for me to stop when I found it. They’re nice though, so there’s that. Marissa gets to the bar at nine and makes a face when she sees how dead it is.
“Has it been like this all night?” She punches in her code to clock in.
“Yep and unfortunately this match is almost over, so soon enough it’ll be completely dead.”
“Ew. That sucks.” She glances at her phone. “Oh, wrong. There’s a pep rally tonight. I guess they hadn’t done one in like ten years. This should start getting lit in like half an hour.”
“Well, I leave in like thirty minutes, but yay for you!”
Thirty minutes later, as if on cue, the door starts opening and people start piling in. I shake my head and laugh, looking at Marissa, who’s laughing right back.
“Unbelievable.”
“When is Patrick
coming in?” I stop undoing the apron I’m wearing and realize I may not be able to leave after all.
“He’s in the back,” Marissa says. “He hadn’t had lunch or dinner, so he’s eating back there.”
“So you don’t need me?”
“You can go.” She smiles. “Have fun at the party. Live a little!”
The house is quiet. Too quiet. I don’t like it. I’m about to text Jagger, but decide against it. This is casual. I can’t just text him because I miss him. I gasp at my own thought, setting the mascara down. I miss him. That’s okay though because that’s normal. He’s my roommate and it’s quiet. I’m allowed to miss him even though he’s not mine to miss. Right? Right. My phone buzzes with a text from Misty telling me she’s outside. I pick up my phone and shove it into the crossbody bag I’m wearing, and walk out the door. The moment I step out I shiver. It got chilly.
“It got chilly,” I shout out, turning around to see my sister in the back seat of the Uber, a black SUV.
“Hey, Jo,” Dylan calls out.
“I’ll keep you warm.” Bobby lowers the window of the front passenger seat.
I laugh, then look at Misty. “Should I get a jacket?”
“We’re going to be inside, so no, you’ll lose it. you lose everything.” She rolls her eyes, opening the door for me. “Get in, loser!”
“You know, you don’t have to say that every time,” I say, but laugh anyway, because it is funny. “Hi, guys.” I smile and wave at each of them, suddenly feeling shy.
“You look incredible,” Bobby says, turning fully in his seat just as the driver starts driving.
“Thank you.” I feel myself blush.
The two of them are wearing long-sleeve button-downs and jeans, so I’m assuming this frat party isn’t your typical kegger. I don’t ask though, because it doesn’t matter. I’m going anyway. They start talking about baseball—or keep talking about it, judging from the murderous glare my sister suddenly has—pretty quickly, and I relax into my seat. I don’t understand men. Supposedly all they do is think about sex when they’re not fucking us, but instead of focusing their attention on trying to woo us so they can get laid, they’re talking about . . . fucking baseball. And Mitch Cruz, no less. I grab my sister’s hand and she squeezes it back with a grip that screams get me the hell out. Luckily, we arrive at the house and spill out of the car. When I look at the house, I realize this is the house. The house. The one I hooked up with Jagger in that first time. My entire body goes hot so I busy myself with what my sister is doing, which is sending Dylan half of the money for the Uber we just took, which makes me roll my eyes harder until Dylan’s phone chime and he looks up at her wide-eyed.
The Heartbreaker Page 12
