Jagger (Broken Doll 2)

My eyes fluttered open to find Jag crouching next to me, running his fingers down the side of my face.

“Hey.” I stretched and grinned, happy to see him.

“Why are you sleeping down here?”

I pushed to a sitting position on the couch and glanced around the library. “I guess I couldn’t stay awake. I was waiting for you.”

Jag smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Something really big was happening, something that had everyone in the house on edge. Jag was beyond stressed out and looked exhausted. He had allowed his short stubble to grow out, and there was more gray sprinkled throughout his dark hair than I remembered. This was why I hadn’t mentioned Milo’s behavior to Jag. He was just so damn worn out. I didn’t want to add my petty issues with Milo to the mountain of stress he was already dealing with.

“Well, I’m here now, doll,” Jag drawled. The sensual way his voice rolled off his tongue raised goose bumps on my arms. I hadn’t heard that sweet Texas accent he would slip into whenever he was relaxed or turned on in a long time.

Jag stood and offered a hand. I took it and he tugged me off to my feet. The blanket I had tossed over my legs got all tangled up in my feet and I stumbled into Jag’s broad chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around me, holding me close. I took advantage of the moment and buried my nose into his shirt, inhaling his familiar scent.

“Miri.”

I was lost in a haze of lust. Surrounded by hard muscles while pressed against the front of Jag’s suit, still perfectly crisp even though it was well after midnight. The silk of his tie felt incredible on my skin.

“Miri.” Jag spoke louder while stepping back and gently removing my hands from his body. I blinked up at him, surprised at the intensity of the hurt I felt when he put distance between us. Only, I didn’t think he wanted the distance any more than I did. Jag’s blue eyes were dark, his pupils huge. I watched the muscles in his jaw pulse, straining as if he were holding back the urge to throw me over his shoulder and drag me to his room caveman style.

Wait… why wasn’t he doing just that?

My stomach clenched and I had to muffle a sob.

“Are you… do you not want me anymore?” My breath hitched and my vision blurred. What if Jag didn’t want to touch me? If he found me gross because Raoul had his hands all over me, raped me. I inhaled a shaky breath. “Is it… is it because he…? Am I…? Do you think I’m ruined?”

Jag’s mouth fell open. Heavy hands landed on my shoulders and my tall lover bent to meet me eye-to-eye.

“Doll, what they did to you was unspeakable.” His teeth clenched and once again, I could see him holding back. Only this time it wasn’t lust. It was fury. Jag squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deep a few times before seeking out my eyes. Scanning my face, his expression softened. “But nothing, and I mean nothing, could ever stop me from wanting you.”

I bit my lip, confused as to why Jag pushed me away if he still wanted me.

“I need you,” I said, my voice whiny. It was all I could do to blink back the tears that burned as hot as the blush I felt on my cheeks. I didn’t want to appear pathetic and needy, but it was exactly how I felt. “I-I love you, Jag.”

“Miri…” Jag pulled his hands back and dragged them both down his rough cheeks. “I love you too, which is why I can’t… I don’t want to take advantage of you.” His face was a mixture of pain and anger. “What they did… I wasn’t sure if you wanted…”

Jag’s sentence tapered off and I finally realized what he was saying. He was unsure if it was too soon to touch me in a sexual way. If I was too traumatized to make love.

“I’m okay, Jag.” I stepped into his space and wound my arms around his waist, resting my head on his chest once more. “I need you to take it away. I don’t want the last person who touched me to be…” I sniffed and smothered a cry, my fingers digging into his lower back as I breathed in his comforting scent. “Take the pain away, please?”

Even though I couldn’t see his face, when Jag’s arms surrounded me and held tight, I knew he understood. After a moment, his hands slid up my sides to cup my face. Jag tilted my head back and lowered his mouth to press a soft kiss on my lips.

“You’re not still hurting?” he asked, his sharp gaze running up and down my arms.

Most of the cuts had been shallow and were almost completely healed. Two or three of the deeper ones still burned, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

I nodded as much as I could with his hands still framing my face. “I’m fine.” Not really, but I thought I could be if Jag would replace the horrors my body suffered with new memories and sensations. Pleasure instead of pain. I licked my lips. “I just need you.” It might be too soon considering what I went through, but for some reason, I needed this. I needed him to wash away Raoul’s filthy touch.

Jag breathed out against my mouth, a faint growl rumbling in his throat. I closed my eyes and waited. When he made his decision, I wasn’t prepared. Jag all but attacked my mouth, hungrily devouring it, claiming it. Claiming me. His tongue thrust past my lips in a complete show of dominance and ownership. I melted in his arms, clutching his bulging biceps to keep my legs from giving out. Jag swallowed every one of my gasps, every single moan. It felt as if he took possession of my very soul as I stood in his firm embrace.

Without breaking the kiss, Jag swept his arms under my legs and I was being carried up the elegant marble staircase, like a princess rescued by her knight. At the end of the hall, Jag pushed his bedroom door open, stepped inside, and kicked the door shut. He crossed to his huge bed and gently laid me down on the fine cotton sheets. I whimpered when he moved back, my skin cold from the loss of his warmth.

I didn’t need to worry. Jag didn’t go far. He stood at the side of the bed, tall and intimidating, his hungry eyes never leaving mine. “Strip.” His commanding tone was a full octave deeper than normal, rough and laden with desire.

It took me a second to process, but when I did, I hurried and shed my clothes in record time, throwing them to the floor. Jag watched every one of my moves, mesmerized. A shudder ran through me when I noticed his pupils had nearly eclipsed the brilliant blue. Slowly, so damn slowly, Jag unknotted his tie and slid it out of his collar, the zip of expensive silk against the cotton fabric sending electricity down my spine, making my legs tremble.

He continued staring right at me as he meticulously rolled up the tie and placed it on a padded bench at the foot of the bed. Next, Jag shrugged out of his jacket and carefully hung it over the back of a chair. With practiced ease, he undid his cuff links, one at a time, never once breaking eye contact. By the time Jag unbuttoned his shirt, slid it down his powerful arms, and laid it on the bench. My fingers were clutching the sheets, twisting them in my hands. I was desperate to have his body on top of mine. To touch. To feel. To love.

My gaze dropped to the large bulge straining at the crotch of his tailored pants and I sucked in a breath. Jag chuckled when I licked my lips, hungry for a taste of his beautiful cock.