Never breaking our kiss, I sent my hands skimming up her thighs. God bless the South, she was wearing a fucking garter belt. I fingered the lacy tops of her thigh-highs and had to count back from ten to control myself. She’d reduced me to fifteen again without even trying.
“Fast?” I asked as my fingers inched toward her center.
“And hard.” She slid toward me, bringing my hand to her panties. She whimpered as I ran my thumb just along the edge. “Jagger?”
“Hmm?” I mumbled, my mouth full of the soft skin on her shoulder.
“Don’t wrinkle the dress, okay? We don’t have time to go home to get another.”
The absolute turn-on of taking her out in a dress that I’d personally wrinkled warred with my need to not piss off her dad. The latter won. Kind of. I flipped her in my arms, lifting her dress to lie flush against her back. Then I shuddered, leaning her over the vanity at just the perfect angle. She had on a pair of red lace boy-cut panties with the words “remove before flight” across her delectable ass. They were instantly my favorite pair. “Fuck, Paisley. I thought you southern belles wore good-girl underwear.” The perfect globes pushed back at me, and I couldn’t help but stroke my palms over them.
“I went shopping, and those are the good-girl ones.” She smiled, then leaned back and kissed me hard. “Now, Jagger.”
I kept one arm banded around her waist and lifted her against me. Then I slipped a bunched-up towel in front of her hips so I didn’t bruise her on the granite. “Well, I have to make sure you’re ready for me,” I teased, running my hand up the back of her thigh and absorbing her shiver.
She wiggled, moving my hand to the small scrap of lace covering her. Very wet lace. “Fuck,” I whispered, my teeth grazing her neck.
I slipped my fingers underneath and stroked her, lightly rubbing her clit until she bucked in my hands. She was slippery and swollen, and I was the luckiest bastard on the planet. I made quick work of my belt and unbuckled my pants, pulling myself free of my boxer briefs. “Shit, condom,” I mumbled, reaching around Paisley to the drawer. I tore the package open with my teeth and covered my erection, my hand nearly shaking.
“Please?” She moaned, leaning her head on my shoulder, trusting me to keep her upright. I pushed her panties to the side and slipped one, then two fingers inside her. She spasmed around my fingers, making these little sounds from the back of her throat that pushed me closer to the edge.
“Look at me,” I demanded. Her attention turned to the mirror, watching our reflection. Her cheeks were flushed, her green eyes bright, and her mouth swollen from my kisses. That mouth made the sexiest “oh” as I positioned at her entrance and then pushed inside slowly.
Her breath came in tiny gasps, her eyes sliding shut as I crept into her inch by inch. I gritted my teeth, trying to think of anything besides how perfectly tight she was. “Open those gorgeous eyes, Paisley. I want you to watch me fucking you.”
Her eyes flew open, and I slammed the rest of the way home with a groan. “Yes!” she cried out, the sound reverberating off the tiles. I flicked the fan switch on to help muffle her cries, knowing she’d be mortified if she realized Grayson could hear how vocal she was. Her cries were my favorite thing about making love to her. She lost every inhibition.
I pulled out again slowly, watching the different expressions cross her face, then brought myself in again just as unhurriedly, savoring every nuance of her response. She wiggled her hips, and I grinned at the desperation in her eyes. God, I could do this slowly all day if it made her look like that. I might die, but I’d do it.
“Jagger!” she snapped at me, her eyes spitting fire.
“Say it.” I ran my tongue along her neck. “Say what you want.” I locked my jaw, holding onto my control by willpower alone.
Her breasts heaved against the neckline of her dress, and I almost came just watching her, fully clothed, rocking onto me. She locked eyes with me in the mirror, panting through her red lips. “Please.”
“Please what?”
She pushed back, and I retreated, stealing her leverage. “Ugh,” she whined. “You’re going to make me say it.”
“Yes.” She had to say it soon, or I was going to break, especially if she didn’t stop wiggling.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve never heard you say it.” Come on, Little Bird, say it. Take me. That’s all I need to hear.
She went absolutely still and locked eyes with me in the mirror. Then she dragged her tongue across her lips and raised an eyebrow. “Just once,” she drawled. Who was really in control here? “Fuck me. Now.”
She was.
Holy. Fucking. Hot. My control snapped, and I thrust into her, then pulled out in a driving rhythm. Our eyes never lost contact as I slammed into her, each thrust better, deeper than the last. This was my heaven. Her breaths turned choppy, her keening cries short and high as she arched. “More!”
I ran my hand between her hips and the counter, pulling her even harder against me, then stroked across her clit, alternating rubbing with little flicks. Her legs started to shake, and I pressed down with two fingers. She flew apart in my hands, screaming my name and triggering my orgasm as she clenched down around me. My knees nearly gave out, but I kept us upright, breathing harshly against the skin of her neck. I found her mouth and kissed her gently. “I love you,” I told her as I slid out and lowered her feet to the ground. That was the biggest difference. No matter if it was soft, slow, hard, fast, or even a little dirty, I was still making love to her. I left a piece of my soul with her every single time.
She turned in my arms and returned the kiss. “I love you more.”
I stood there, grinning like a doofus as I cleaned up and tucked everything back in where it was supposed to be. She ran a brush over her hair and made sure her dress didn’t advertise what we’d just been doing. I didn’t need the dress to tell me. It was in the flush in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, her swollen lips.
We were twenty minutes late when we pulled into the country club parking lot. I tossed the keys to the valet and lifted her down from Lucy.
“Can you tell?” she whispered as we walked quickly through the marble foyer toward the dining hall.
She wavered, and I pulled her close, whispering in her ear. “Tell what? That I just bent you over my bathroom counter and fucked you senseless?”
She blushed and playfully smacked my chest with the back of her hand. “Jagger Bateman, you watch that mouth of yours. We’re in public.”
I grinned, considering what she’d just said to me in private. “You like that mouth of mine. On you. Even in public.” She wavered again, and I gripped her waist tighter. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded, but her breath was shallow. “I’m really okay, I promise. I just need to sit.”
“Tell me if you want to get home and rest, okay?” She nodded, and I straightened to a respectful distance as we entered the dining room, keeping her hand tucked in mine. She spotted her parents and waved. The table was set for six. Three of them were already there. Of course he was here. “Hey, y’all,” she greeted them. “Sorry we’re late.”
I pulled her chair out for her, and then shook her dad’s hand. “General Donovan.” I smiled at her mom. “Mrs. Donovan.” And nodded to Carter. “Carter.”
I did my best to ignore the subtle dig, especially since I’d been inside Paisley twenty-two minutes ago. I win. I even sat next to him.
“Will, it’s nice to see you,” Paisley said with a tight smile.
“We have an important guest coming that I wanted to introduce you both to,” her dad answered. “Ah, there he is!”
Her dad left the table to greet the guest, who’d entered behind me, but I was too focused on Carter’s dropped jaw to turn and look. “See a ghost, Carter?” I joked.
“Holy shit, that’s Senator Mansfield,” he said, like he was in the presence of God.
“Ah, so good to see you, Donovan!” The voice ripped through every defense
I’d built in seven years. It was impossible. Not here. Not with Paisley. Not when she didn’t know.
“Jagger, are you okay?” she whispered.
I looked at her and brushed my lips against hers one last time as Jagger Bateman. “Paisley, I’m so sorry.”
“What? Why?” she asked softly, brushing her hand along my jaw. I leaned into her touch for a moment and then leaned back, scrambling to put up the walls that might save me.
He stood across from me, the look in his eyes familiar and calculated as he assessed me. His suit was impeccable as always, his blond hair flecked with enough silver to give him a carefully cultivated mix of youth and experience.
“I’d like to introduce you both to Senator Johnathon Mansfield, the ranking member of the Senate Armed Services Committee,” General Donovan introduced him.
“Ranking for now.” He laughed. “Remember, it’s an election year, and who knows, I might be out of a job come November.”
That’s why he was here—locating the weakest spot in his armor. Me.
“I’ve seen the polls. There’s nothing to worry about there, Senator. Let me introduce you to two promising young men.” He gestured toward Carter first.
Carter stood and shook his hand like he was meeting a celebrity. “I’m Lieutenant Carter, sir. I saw you speak at the academy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Paisley’s eyes flickered to me, undoubtedly wondering why I hadn’t stood up, or so much as acknowledged him.
General Donovan cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows at me. When I didn’t move, he spoke, “Senator, this is another new lieutenant, my daughter’s boyfriend—”
“We don’t need an introduction, General. Do we, Prescott?” The name sliced me to the quick, peeling away the last seven years like they’d never existed and leaving my nerves gaping and raw. “It’s good to see you.”
“Jagger?” Paisley asked softly, her hand coming to my knee in question and support. I sucked a breath in and came to life at her touch. “Who’s Prescott?”
“I am, or I was.” I swallowed and turned my attention, looking him straight in the eye like I wouldn’t have dared seven years ago. “Paisley, meet my father.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Paisley
35. Find out what I’m really made of.
The table fell silent, eyes darting from the senator to Jagger. The resemblance was striking. Jagger’s thigh was tense under my hand. This was the man he’d emancipated himself from? The one who’d left him to fend for himself after his mother’s death? Pieces snapped together in my head, aligning themselves like well-stacked books. His father had worked away from them. He’d visited when it suited or when he needed them to “show their faces.” Jagger’s need to prove himself, to achieve his goals without his dad’s help—it all made perfect sense.
I only knew two things about the man in front of me—that he’d gone to extraordinary lengths to ambush Jagger, and that he’d done something to make the man I loved hide himself.
Every muscle in Jagger’s body locked except for his jaw, which ticked with his accelerated breathing. I needed to get him out of here. “I’m not feeling well, Jagger. Would you mind taking me home?”
His gaze snapped from his father’s to mine, wild but concerned. “Paisley?”
“Ah, that’s right. You go by Jagger now,” his father said as if he’d forgotten.
“Take me home,” I said softly. My heartbeat quickened, my light-headedness returning with such force that I wasn’t lying. I didn’t feel well. I’d stupidly done too much today.
He nodded once and stood, helping me with my chair. “General and Mrs. Donovan, Carter.” He turned to his father. “Senator. I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us.”
“Well, that’s a pity, since I came all this way to surprise you.” His smile didn’t fool me.
Jagger’s hand tightened on mine, but I forced a smile at his father. “I’m terribly sorry, Senator, but something at the table just hasn’t agreed with me, and Jagger is the kind of gentleman who takes care of me when I’m not feeling well. His mama sure raised him right.”
We left the senator with his mouth agape and walked from the dining room, those at the table speechless behind us. “I know you have questions,” Jagger said quietly. “Just let me explain.”
I stopped him in the empty foyer, just under the chandelier. “Default trust, remember? You had your reasons for not telling me.”
He rested his forehead on mine, his shoulders sagging. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, the words coming out strangled.
I squeezed his hands in mine. “It doesn’t matter to me how you grew up. I love you, Jagger Bateman.”
“There’s more that you don’t know.”
I glanced behind him to make sure we were alone. “Would you rather do this in the car?”
“Now. I’m not putting this off anymore. He’s only here because there’s an election soon, and I’m his biggest liability. I…I blackmailed him for my freedom. The only reason he didn’t fight the emancipation was because I signed an agreement that I’d never go public with what really happened.” He paused for three heartbeats. “My mom didn’t just fall off her balcony. She jumped.”
I gasped. “Oh, Jagger—”
He shook his head but didn’t pause. “It was accidental, that wasn’t a lie, but she went over that railing by choice.” He looked toward the chandelier and took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this in a country club with both of our parents in the next room.”
“We’re good at awkward timing.” I took his face between my hands, bringing his eyes to mine. “I’m here. No matter what.” My heart wouldn’t calm, and I struggled to keep my breathing steady and my voice even.
“She was high, but there wasn’t an autopsy done. Mom was into just about anything she could get her hands on. My father couldn’t have that getting out, so he took care of it like he did everything else, and we buried the truth with her body. His greatest liability became his springboard, and he rode the grief boost all the way through the next election.”
“Was there a witness?”
“Yes.” I waited. “Me. I was there. I couldn’t reach her in time.”
“Jagger.” I whispered his name as a tear slipped down my face for what he’d been through. What I was going to put him through. “I need to tell you—”
“Let me just get this out, and then I’m all ears, Little Bird. I didn’t leave him over Mom or his abandonment. Hell, I’d been taking care of things for years while Mom spiraled. I left him because of what he did to Anna.”
“You can’t seriously walk away from me,” his dad called, striding into the foyer.
Jagger’s head snapped up and out of my hands. “I can, and I will.” He turned to face him. “Did you miss that memo when I left? You’re not welcome in my life.”
“Jagger, let’s go,” I whispered. Who was Anna? What did she mean to him? My head spun so fast that I felt dizzy.
The senator smiled like Jagger had said he’d love to join him for dinner. “Why on earth are you still going by Jagger? I thought that phase would wear out. I never should have given in to her on that, but she was determined for your middle name, and I loved her.”
Jagger tensed. “You loved her money. I won’t buy your front-page bullshit.”
“I loved your mother, but she had an addiction. That wasn’t her fault.”
“Yeah, and who gave her the first hit? That’s on you.”
All trace of amusement fell from the senator’s face. “Six years, and this is what you want to bring up?”
“Seven next month, and I don’t want to bring up anything. I want you to leave me alone.”
“Stop acting like a child.”
Jagger laughed, the sound empty. “Like I was ever a child.”
The muscle in the senator’s jaw ticked, just like Jagger’s. They looked so alike—the same blond hair, glowing skin, strong jawlines. Except the senator’s eyes were br
own.
“What the hell do you want from me?” Jagger asked.
“Do I need a reason to see you? At least appreciate the lengths I went to for this to happen. Not that you were that hard to track down.”
“I’ve been careful.”
His dad laughed. “Son, you changed your last name to your mother’s maiden name and didn’t bother with your Social Security number. How careful could you really be? You graduated in May, took a pit stop in Florida, and reported to Fort Rucker after buying a house in Enterprise. Did I miss anything?”
“Why are you here?” he asked again.
“Come on, Prescott. You can’t be that surprised. I raised you smarter than that. How could you possibly think I wouldn’t keep track of you? I knew when you got into CU, when you applied for flight school…” He grinned, and my stomach turned over, nausea flooding my mouth with saliva.
“You had nothing to do with that!” Jagger shouted. “I got here on my own.”
“Are you so sure about that? What are the odds of two lieutenants getting chosen for aviation from the same ROTC class and going to flight school at the exact same time? I’ll tell you what they are—about as common as a senator placing a phone call.”
“No,” Jagger said, his certainty slipping. My heart hammered in my ears, but I ignored it, tightening my grip on his hand.
“This is where you say, ‘thank you, Dad.’” The senator adjusted his pocket square.
“Get the fuck out of my life,” Jagger growled.
His father tsked. “In public? Prescott, we raised you better than that.”
“You didn’t raise me. Mom did, or tried to when she wasn’t wasted or zoned out on her medication.”
His father’s eyes hardened. “Looks like you’re doing well enough, though. Latching on to a general’s daughter was a good move for your career, but gutsy to split your focus while you’re in flight school, don’t you think?”
Eyes Turned Skyward Page 26
