Loving Jagger Read online

  LOVING JAGGER

  A Wild Heart Novel

  SHAYNE FORD

  Copyright © 2016 by Shayne Ford

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, organizations and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners and have been used without permission and in an editorial fashion only, with no implied endorsement.

  The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with, approved of or sponsored by the trademarks owners.

  This book is for entertainment purposes only. The author and publisher disclaim any and all responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly in relation to this book.

  This book is intended for mature audiences only.

  Written by Shayne Ford

  www.shayneford.com

  Twitter:@ShayneFordBooks

  Cover Design: http://www.selfpubbookcovers.com/michelleleedesigns

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Also by SHAYNE FORD

  About the Author

  1

  VIOLET

  “Do you think he’s still here?”

  “I’m sure he is... He wants to see you,” Jagger says, running his fingers through his hair.

  He grabs a T-shirt from a chair and pulls it on.

  I touch his arm, and he glances at me, grinning.

  “Is there a reason why you study me?”

  “You’re handsome,” I murmur.

  He snakes his arm around my waist, twirls me in front of him and motions to the mirror.

  “Look how beautiful you are,” he says softly, tilting his head down, his chin touching my shoulder.

  He drapes his arm across my chest and presses his lips on my temple. The other hand slips inside my dress and peels it off my shoulders.

  He slides his palms over my breasts and sweeps my collarbones with his fingers.

  He looks at me and then at my reflection. He has no idea how much different I feel. Long, messy tresses frame my face, my eyes sparkling, my face looking so relaxed.

  We connect eyes for a moment before he buries me in his arms, and as I get a glimpse of us in the mirror, I realize how good we are, how perfect for each other.

  “We’re never going to make it out of the bedroom,” I say, his erection pushing through his shorts against my back.

  He laughs, and tears away from me, his fingers sweeping his groin.

  “You go first. I need another moment. I don’t know how I’m gonna face him,” I say, and motion to the bedroom door, a wave of warmth already dispersing over my face.

  “Just ignore him,” he says.

  He gives me a soft kiss and vanishes out the door.

  I spent a few more minutes getting dressed and disentangling my hair, hoping that a miracle has made his friend’s recent memory go away.

  I crack the door open and listen, their voices drifting from the kitchen. I take a long breath and strut to them as if nothing happened.

  Abrupt silence kills their conversation.

  Arms crossed over his chest, eyes set on me, Jagger leans against the counter and curls his lips into a secret smile.

  Braxton shifts in his chair, now both taking me in. Suddenly, my dress feels tight and not long enough.

  Braxton’s eyes dip one more time, his gaze a bit imprecise, roaming over my waist and hips and chest, turning my nipples into pebbles.

  His teeth scrape the cushion of his lower lip as he seizes me with his blue eyes, a devilish grin curving his lips.

  My gaze falls on his face, and the air stops flowing in my lungs.

  A black, tattooed serpent with artfully drawn scales, coils on his shoulder, the head hidden beneath his hair.

  His eyes lock mine as surprise pours over me.

  “Have we met before?” he says, his eyes laughing, and I wish I had a magic wand so that I could make myself disappear.

  I bite my lip and pull my gaze away.

  A kitchen towel lands on his face.

  “Leave her alone, Braxton. Don’t be a fucking ass!” Jagger barks.

  Braxton peels the towel off his face and slowly tilts his lips, undressing me with his eyes, hell bent on making things as difficult as he can.

  Leaning back, he props his broad shoulders against his chair and smoothly spreads his legs, his hand resting on his thigh, next to his groin.

  As much as I fight my impulse not to look, my gaze starts floating over his body, within seconds registering his chiseled hand, a silver ring sitting on his middle finger, just like Jagger’s, and his jeans-clad thighs.

  His long fingers slide between his legs, his thumb rubbing his fly teasingly, almost imperceptible.

  A flashback from that night comes back to me, playing in my head again. Lust flowing through his eyes, and carnal pleasure glowing over his handsome face, his muscular body, naked down to that woman’s lips.

  I glance up.

  He looks at me, a part of him reflected in his sapphire eyes.

  And then I realize... He’s so much like Jagger, despite being different in some ways. He’s like his mirror image. He may have raven hair and blue-gray eyes, yet the same hunger barrels through his blood.

  He’s as bold as him and arguably just as stubborn.

  And just to prove me right, he slides his hand up an inch, summoning my eyes to his crotch again. I really don’t need more pointers.

  A blind person could see the bulge straining against his fly.

  I shoot my eyes up and give him a stern look.

  Unfazed, he stretches a cheeky grin that sets off his sculpted jaw and plump lips.

  His gaze flows through me, his eyes fucking me relentlessly.

  Tossing his head back, he pushes up to his feet and stretches his hand out to me as Jagger pushes off the counter and stops by my side.

  The air crackles with testosterone. I offer my hand, and he wraps his palm around it, holding it longer than customary.

  “Violet,” I say, barely finding my voice.

  “Violet!” he says, smiling playfully. “That’s a beautiful name,” he says, unable to suppress a flirting grin.

  Jagger’s eyes pull into a line.

  “Enough. Let her go,” he says, shoving his palm in Braxton’s face and yanking my hand out of his friend’s lock.

  Braxton steps back and falls into his chair, smiling mischievously.

  “She’s so sweet,” he says to Jagger as if I’m no longer in the room.

  “I’m here, you know,” I say, wiggling my fingers to him.

  I slip behind Jagger, and head to the coffee machine.

  “How old are you, darling?”

  I freeze and turn to Jagger, who seems to share my surprise.

  “What’s your problem, Braxton?” Jagger barks.

  Braxton’s smirk falls off his face, his eyes widening, his palms going
up in the air.

  “What? What did I say? She looks young. That’s all. Why are you so fucking uptight, man? She just sucked you off, for fuck’s sake,” he says, laughing.

  Seemingly, the man has no verbal filter, and clearly, knows no boundaries.

  Horror slides over Jagger’s face as he waits for my reaction, ready to rip Braxton to pieces.

  There’s a moment of silence as Braxton’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of us, completely unaware of the danger hovering over him.

  Chewing on my lip, I stifle a smile.

  “See, she’s not angry,” Braxton says, reminding me of an eight-year-old.

  I can no longer control myself and start to chuckle.

  A smile fills Jagger’s eyes.

  “Coffee, Braxton?” I ask, trying to de-tense the atmosphere.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Do you want to eat with us?” I ask.

  There’s silence between us, long enough to make me turn.

  They exchange looks.

  “Yes? No?”

  Jagger glances at me.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d love to,” Braxton says, ecstatic.

  As if I had any doubt.

  “Just keep your mouth shut. Okay?”

  Jagger throws him a glare as Braxton holds his hands in the air and shrinks into his chair.

  “All right, man.”

  Braxton’s vintage black Corvette rolls ahead of us. We follow him, driving in silence, Jagger’s eyes concealed behind his sunglasses.

  The wind blows in my hair.

  Threading my fingers through my locks, I brush them away, while clasping the other hand on my skirt, keeping it in place.

  The ocean glimmers in the distance under the scorching summer sun.

  A breeze sweeps the shore, littering the sky with fluffy clouds. House after house paints the same picture of a quiet, summer afternoon, with lush gardens, thick shadows, freshly squeezed lemonade, and children playing in the backyards.

  The silence stretches between us, tense like a sullen guest.

  “What’s wrong, Jagger?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” he says curtly.

  “You haven’t said a word since we left. What’s bothering you?”

  Another moment of silence sneaks between us.

  “Is this about Braxton?”

  He doesn’t say anything.

  “Who is he?”

  He props his elbow on the door and keeps his eyes on the road. The wind blows the top of his shirt, revealing his chest.

  It’s a white, cotton voile shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Leaning my head into my seat, I give him a sidelong gaze and soak him in, drinking in this vignette of him. Young and handsome, his beautiful heart opening to me.

  Sweet emotions flow through me.

  “Are you going to tell me?” I ask softly.

  His lips curve into a small smile, and that’s a good start.

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Why are you mad at him?”

  “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he says, turning his head to the side, trying to hide his mysterious grin.

  He’s not angry, or jealous, yet there’s something else that bothers him.

  I wish I could see his eyes.

  “He caught me naked in your bed. What do you expect?”

  “It’s not only that...” he says, serious this time, and to my surprise a bit nervous.

  He takes in a sharp breath, and for a reason I can’t grasp, my heart begins to race.

  “What is it, then?” I ask, weaving my fingers into his hair, stroking the back of his neck.

  He ponders for a moment, weighing his words.

  “We’ve shared women before... ” he says.

  “Shared? As in double-teamed...?”

  He flicks his gaze to the other side, and I instantly get it.

  “Were there many, um... instances?”

  “Yeah,” he says so softly, I wonder if I heard him correctly.

  “Even the woman from the gourmet store?”

  He clicks his tongue.

  “No.”

  “So, what’s the problem then? There were women before...”

  “It was different.”

  “How?” I ask, suddenly curious.

  “He didn’t like her, and she wouldn’t...” he says and stops, annoyed. “It was complicated.”

  “Because she loved you?”

  “Yeah... no... It didn’t have anything to do with that. None of us were interested. There was no chemistry between us. It was just different.”

  “Okay,” I say, my head spinning a bit.

  I’m not so sure I understand.

  “You think he likes me?” I ask, my heart ramming in my chest.

  He goes quiet, a muscle pulsing in his jaw.

  “You think we have chemistry?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “You’re the one who’s upset. Why are you so tormented? Have you two...?”

  “No, for fuck’s sake!”

  He’s all worked up and so sweet as he grapples with a blush.

  “The mistakes of the past catching up with you, huh?” I say, teasing him, a smile sneaking in my voice.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks, thrown off by my reaction.

  “You.”

  “It’s not funny,” he grumbles.

  “So, what’s the problem?” I ask, my stomach shrunk into a ball.

  I know exactly what the problem is. I just saw it in Braxton’s eyes and smile and pants.

  “I don’t think he understands...” he says, and he’s right about that.

  I also don’t think he told Jagger I walked in on him that night. And I don’t know how to tell him either. It will not make him feel any better if I dish on my… unique visual experience.

  “You think he’ll make a pass at me?” I ask.

  “He might,” he says, serious, and glances at me.

  “And?” I ask playfully, messing with him.

  “Violet??”

  I lean to him, my fingers trailing the side of his face.

  “Can you please slow down, and maybe stop for a minute?”

  Moments later he pulls off the road and parks not far from the beach. I slide his sunglasses off his nose, curl my arms around his neck, and lock his lips. The deeper we kiss, the more relaxed he is. I take his face in my hands.

  “Let me tell you something... I’ve been loyal to a man who in six years didn’t show me as much love as you have shown me since last night. Right now, I’m yours. Whether it’s a week, a month, a year, or a lifetime. I’m in your hands, whether you like it or not, whether you know it or not. I don’t know how else to be.”

  He nods, his eyes shining, enlivened. A lazy smile tilts his lips.

  “I do... but I also know that he likes you.”

  “Why are you so afraid of him?”

  “It’s not him I’m afraid of...” he says, not making much sense.

  “Me...?”

  He shakes his head and looks away, another enigmatic smile flitting through his eyes. I wait a few moments, hoping he’ll clarify.

  “We need to go,” he says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose.

  “Where exactly are we going?”I ask as he cranks up the engine and backs away.

  “His family’s estate.”

  Located on the East End’s South Shore the estate sprawls over one hundred acres, and it’s comprised of one of the oldest and largest vineyards in Long Island, an elegant home, stables, a well-renowned equestrian center, and grazing land for thoroughbreds.

  Braxton greets us as soon as we arrive and gives us, or rather me, a tour of the property. Jagger’s eyes stay on him like a bad flu, and I do my best to alleviate his angst by keeping the conversation neutral and my attitude polite but slightly cold.

  In the end, Braxton shows us to a wine tasting room that opens to the public late afternoon.


  The next half hour or so, we sit at a rustic table on a large terrace that wraps around the house and taste Trebbiano, Merlot, Chardonnay, and Cabernet Sauvignon. A plate of assorted cheeses accompanies the tasting.

  I meet Braxton’s parents, Shirley and Doug Wellington who seem to be a very nice couple. Shirley must be in her forties, an assumption, of course, she doesn’t look older than thirty-five. Braxton inherited his mother blue eyes and dark hair, and also her attractive features. To spice things up, he shares his father’s manliness.

  Doug Wellington, who could easily be sixty, looks at least a decade younger if not more. Fit, and tanned, he flashes a perfect smile. We engage in a conversation, our topics tackling almost anything from stock market to politics and International cuisine.

  Just as we deepen the subject of French cuisine, Jagger slides a hand on my shoulder and murmurs in my ear.

  “I’ll be back.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him following Braxton into the house.

  2

  JAGGER

  “I got it, man. I got it,” Braxton grumbles, and darts to the walk-in closet.

  “Why are you so fucking pissed?” I shout, following him.

  He spins around, his face flushed.

  “Why am I pissed?! Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck is wrong with you, man? I’m not the one who made it such a big fucking secret.”

  He turns his back to me, grabs the back of his shirt and peels it off. Snakes of muscles ripple beneath his skin.

  “It wasn’t a secret.”

  He balls the T-shirt up and sends it flying across the room.

  “How can you fucking say that to me, Jagger? Do I look like a fucking idiot?”

  He straightens all the six foot and some of him. Tall, dark, and angry as hell. And honestly, I’m baffled by his reaction.

  “How long have you been fucking her?”

  My jaw stiffens.

  “It’s not fucking,” I say as calm as I can.

  “Oh, no? Then what is it?”

  His eyes sear me, and then they search mine, widening with surprise as the revelation sets in. He curves his lips into a bitter smile.