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She's not wearing a coat, carrying a diaper bag, or Charlie. It's just Lainey.
I stare past her toward the Butterfly House.
"Jagger, it's freezing. Do I get to come in?" she asks.
"Oh. Yeah. Of course. Sorry," I stumble, stepping back. Then fret, "Where's Charlie?"
"With Mama."
Relief hits me. I shut the door and take her in. "You walked over here without a coat?"
"It's thirty seconds away."
"It's snowing."
She rolls her eyes, then tilts her head. She grins and asks, "Are we going to argue about my ability to survive weather? Or are you going to keep me warm like you promised?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lainey
Jagger's surprise burns off his expression, turning to the intense, focused one where I can tell he's already deciding exactly what he's going to do with me.
That look hits me low in the belly in a slow, heavy clench that steals the air right out of my lungs. My pulse trips over itself, hammering so hard, I can feel it in my throat, my wrists, between my legs. Heat floods my cheeks and spreads downward in a rush that has nothing to do with the cold still clinging to my skin.
He steps closer, crowding me back against the door without even touching me yet. The space between us disappears without a single touch. The faint trace of soap and the smoky bonfire still cling to him. His bare chest is exactly as I remember from our night together, broad, solid, and carved with muscle that makes it nearly impossible to keep my eyes on his face. The sharp V of muscle at his hips disappears into the waistband of the boxers hanging low on his waist.
My back meets the door with a soft thud. The wood is cool against my shoulder blades, but every other part of me feels unbearably warm. My mouth goes dry. My knees feel unreliable, like the floor has tilted just enough to make standing an effort. I have to tip my chin up to keep looking at him, and the simple act of lifting my face makes my pulse flutter harder. There's nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
I shift beneath his scrutiny. The confidence I had before I left the Butterfly House dwindles into nerves. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
His gaze drags over me, slow and unapologetic. His jaw flexes, and his blues settle dark and hungry. "I'm cataloging every place I'm about to put my mouth and every sound I'm about to pull out of you."
A sharp, electric shiver runs down my spine, coiling tight in my stomach. My nipples tighten against the soft inside of my sweatshirt. A slow, traitorous heat between my thighs makes me press my legs together.
And damn him, because nothing gets past him.
His gaze drops to my legs, lingering for so long, I shift farther into the door. Then a knowing smile pulls at one corner of his mouth as he leans closer, stopping just short of touching me. "Already squeezing those pretty thighs together, darlin'?"
A heavy sweetness settles in my chest, half excitement and half something far more dangerous. My breath comes shallow. Every inhale brushes the front of my body against the charged air between us.
"Fuck, Lainey." His voice drops to a rough murmur. "I haven't even touched you yet, and look what you're doing to me."
My gaze betrays me, dropping between us before I can stop it. Fire erupts on my cheeks, and I swallow hard as my eyes snap back to his.
The smug bastard catches that, too. His grin deepens.
"You're enjoying this way too much," I mutter.
He chuckles. "You think this is me enjoying myself? I haven't even started."
A warm rush moves through me, and I hate how desperate I feel for him to back up all that cocky confidence. "Jagger—"
He doesn't let me finish. One big hand cups the side of my neck, thumb stroking under my jaw, and he leans in until his mouth is right against my ear. "Jesus, you made me so happy showing up in my home like this, baby girl."
"Like what?" I whisper.
"Like a girl who's finally ready to give herself to me again and turn me into her permanent fucktoy. And I've been starving, baby… So I'm about to feed on your dripping cunt until you understand you're never getting rid of me."
