Loving Jagger Read online

  “That’s why you kept it a secret, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe...”

  He looks at me as if I stole his dog. His hands grip his hips.

  “Maybe??”

  “Yeah... Maybe. I know you, Braxton... and your wandering dick...” I say jokingly, trying to lighten up the atmosphere and mitigate the tension.

  Sadness fogs his eyes, and my smile fades away.

  He turns his back to me, and starts riffling through the racks of clothing and then the drawers. He pulls out a shirt and a different pair of jeans. The silence stays with us for a few more moments before I speak again.

  “I’m sorry man... I didn’t think it would matter to you,” I say with a different voice, and his eyes flick to me, steely blue, spearing a dagger through my heart.

  He pulls his jeans up and closes a couple of buttons on his shirt, his eyes grilling me.

  “How long have you known me, Jagger?”

  “Seriously. I just... I didn’t think it was so important. I just hooked up with her. I didn’t even know if it would amount to anything, and I still don’t...” I say, trying to defend myself, but then I realize it’s all in vain.

  “What wasn’t important? Fucking her or telling me about her?”

  Pressing my lips into a line, I look straight into his eyes.

  “Telling you about her. I couldn’t tell you something I didn’t even know.”

  “Isn’t she the neighbor who crashed your party?”

  A smile escapes my filter.

  “Yeah... She is... So now, you fucking know,” I say.

  “That’s not the point,” he says and whooshes by me.

  I spin after him and walk into the study room.

  “Then what is the fucking point?” I ask, crashing on a couch, my arms folding over my chest.

  “Don’t give me that fucking smile,” he snaps.

  “What smile?” I ask, stretching my smirk.

  “You think I’m fucking jealous?”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “You’re not?”

  “Go fuck yourself, Jagger,” he says, serious, the pain in his eyes killing my grin.

  “You don’t see it, do you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, puzzled.

  “You never hid anything from me, Jagger,” he says, and the air begins to thicken with tension.

  “I just told you.”

  He lets out a scoffing chuckle.

  “You just told me...? I walked in on you and her... You knew you’d bring her to my house. Why was it so fucking hard to tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t know how you’d react... ”

  “You were afraid I’d want to fuck her?”

  “It crossed my mind.”

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  “Yeah, I fucking am... And I was fucking right. I saw how you looked at her.”

  “I looked at her that way because she’s fucking hot, and I fucking found her in your bed, butt naked, her fucking tits on display, her legs spread apart, facing the fucking door.”

  My lips start to tremble.

  “Don’t give me that fucking look, Jagger... How am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me?”

  I clench my jaw and crush my lip beneath my teeth, stifling a retort.

  “Oh... suddenly you’re annoyed,” he says, puffing again.“How many times have we fucked the same woman, Jagger? Whether she was mine or yours? Huh? You want me to remind you?”

  “No, I fucking don’t...” I growl. “That’s exactly why I was telling you she’s different...”

  “No, no... What you told me was to keep my hands off her before you even cared to tell me you wanted to be exclusive with her. All you needed to do was to talk to me. But, no, no... You were mad I got a hard-on when I found her in your bed and then you were pissed I looked at her in a certain way. What the fuck? You want me to stay away, I’ll fucking stay away, but don’t fucking act as if I want to fuck her behind your back, since you know I’ve never done that. I’ve never shattered your trust,” he barks, angry.

  I raise my hands in the air.

  “Okay, okay... You’re right. It was my fucking fault,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “I didn’t know there's a good way and a bad way to tell you something. I thought you could fucking handle it, Braxton.”

  His eyes taser me.

  “I can stay away from her if that’s your fear, but you damn well know it’s not me you’re afraid off.”

  My eyes flick to him. We clash stares for a moment before I peel my gaze away.

  I rub my eyes.

  “Yes, I fucking know... But she is different, and she’s very traditional.”

  “She didn’t look traditional to me, with your dick shoved in her mouth.”

  My hand shoots up, my teeth gritting.

  “I can’t afford to lose her. You don’t know anything about her. I barely convinced her to give me a chance,” I say with a softer voice. “She’s not that kind of woman, man. And also, it’s me. I feel differently this time. I’m sorry.”

  His eyes lock mine, and everything in the background slips out of focus. The bookcase stretching across the wall, the eighteen-century paintings, the antique furniture, the flowing silk curtains.

  It all becomes a medley of fuzzy gray, a stark contrast to his cerulean eyes.

  “How do you know she’s not?” he asks, his eyes boring into mine.

  “I just know. She’s not like the others, and I already told you it’s more than fucking,” I say, irritated.

  “Then, why are you so afraid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his broad chest and leaning against a table.

  I look away.

  “So, I was right... It’s not her, or me. It’s you you’re afraid of,” he says, sounding disappointed and relieved at the same time.

  A long exhale leaves my lips as I rake my fingers through my hair again.

  “Let’s not talk about it... Okay?”

  He lets out a small puff, and by the time I raise my eyes, he swings his gaze away, his neck tense, his muscles hard. He clenches his jaw, and when he looks back at me, a torn smile sits on his lips, his eyes bleeding so much sadness.

  “So she’s the fucking one,” he says, the bitter smile clinging to his lips.

  Pain claws at my chest.

  “How the fuck do you know? You just met her,” I say, restless and nervous, trying to ignore the tension building between us. “How do you know, man?” I ask again.

  He sinks into an armchair and plops his feet onto the coffee table.

  “I know you, Jagger... I don’t need to know her. We wouldn’t be here fighting because of her...” he says, coldness creeping in his voice.

  He tosses his phone on the table and runs his fingers over his lips, and that’s what he usually does when he gets really nervous.

  “What scares you, man?”

  My question takes him by surprise, bringing a rush of blood to his cheeks. He flicks his eyes to me, their color shifting, now looking like a rainy sky.

  I catch them a split second before he swings his gaze to the window.

  “Scared?! I’m not scared. You’re the one who acts as if you just fell face-first into pussy,” he says, trying to sound detached. He shakes his head, still evading my eyes. “No, no... It’s not me. Don’t pin your shit on me, Jagger.”

  “It’s not my shit. All I’m saying is––”

  His hands shoot in the air.

  “Cool. I told you I’m all game. I don’t give a damn,” he says, rushed, his voice and eyes telling me something else.

  He threads his fingers through his hair and rubs his lips again, before he whips his eyes to me, and pushes out of his chair.

  “Nothing will happen. Chill, man... I’m happy for you,” he says, keeping his composure, but his voice drips sadness.

  “Nothing will change, Braxton. I’m not pushing you away.”

  He smiles softly.

  “Don’t worry. I’m fine.
It’s nothing,” he says, gently brushing me off, and I catch a glimpse of his glistening eyes.

  A hole forms in my heart.

  “I’m serious,”I say, searching his eyes.

  “I believe you. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  He curls his arm around my neck and pulls me to the terrace. A soft smile brushes his lips.

  “Come. Let's take her riding.”

  VIOLET

  Jagger’s flushed face comes into view first, and then Braxton’s lips, curved into a soft smile.

  They drag me to the stables, and despite my protests, a few moments later they have me saddled on a big brown horse. It was my idea to try new things, but balancing on top of a mammoth was not one of them.

  “Can he go slower, please?” I ask.

  Balancing awkwardly, I clutch the reigns and fight to regain my equilibrium, feeling as if I’m about to fall at any moment.

  Jagger throws me an amused look.

  “Slower than that is when he sleeps. Relax, all right?”

  He rides with me, and I feel a little better until he and Braxton launch into a competing gallop to the far end of the vines and I lag behind.

  They’re both good riders. I can tell. They have the kind of skill you acquire when you’re a kid, and you know no fear. They’re natural riders, easily manning the horses and becoming one with them too.

  Sadly, I can’t enjoy the sight much as sweat starts rolling down my back. We keep walking in whichever direction my horse sets his mind to. Although Jagger has given me some pointers on how to make him stop, I’m afraid I might give myself away on how clueless I am. And that’s not a good idea, Jagger also said. Not even horses like that.

  As they vanish out of my sight, I begin to question if trying new things isn’t a bit overrated, especially now that the riding path turns into a slight slope that leads to a small stream, and now I’m facing a big decision.

  Oh, shit.

  As my mind tries to come up with solutions, I inadvertently squeeze my thighs. On cue, my horse darts toward the stream and jumps over it. Luckily for me, I hold onto him, out of desperation more than skill.

  As soon as we get to the other side, I tilt back and pull the reigns, finally remembering how to bring him to a stop.

  Once he halts, I make a clucking sound, and squeeze my legs, gentler this time. To my delight, he starts walking again. We repeat the steps a few more times until I become comfortable enough to let him walk, and I finally relax. A smile rolls on my face as Jagger and Braxton come into view, galloping straight to me.

  The sunset casts a glow over the field, the dark green vines sprawling in the background. A wall of trees lines the sides.

  Shielding my eyes against the light, I gape at them.

  Tall in their saddles, they keep their sparkling eyes on me as my gaze sweeps their wide shoulders, and corded muscles, their flushed faces, and tousled hair.

  If I’d be pressed to describe my personal heaven, they would be in it. They both smile. To me. And then, they start to circle me, making me feel like a princess.

  Jagger glances at the creek.

  “How’d you get over it?”

  “We jumped,” I say, leaning forward, stroking my horse’s neck.

  “Really?” he asks, smiling proudly.

  “Yes,” I say, grinning like a fool.

  Braxton’s eyes set on us, furtively studying me. The glowing dusk brushes his raven hair and light complexion, making his irises look like sparkling silver. He catches me examining him, and arching an eyebrow, he gives me a small smile.

  He’s more reserved since Jagger talked to him, yet he observes me with the same curiosity and restlessness, once in a while pushing back a mysterious smile.

  We leave the horses at the stables and head for the tasting room, and as soon as the estate opens its doors to the public, the terrace fills up quickly.

  There’s live music, good food, and some of the best wine I’ve ever tasted. The atmosphere is relaxed, and we spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying ourselves in the company of friendly people.

  A soft breeze rustles the trees as the balmy evening sets in.

  I near one of the food tables, scan the large variety of snacks and scoop up a canapé.

  A horse whinnies nearby, prompting me to glance over my shoulder.

  A young woman straddles a tall, brown stallion, her feet bare, her delicate frame clad in a pair of unraveling shorts, and a plaid shirt tied at her waist. Long, curly brown hair tumbles down her back.

  I shift my focus back to my plate when her voice rips into the air.

  “Jagger?”

  My ears perk up. A piece of cheese slips through my fingers as my head whips in his direction.

  Across from me, he talks with one of the guests at the other side of the terrace. He doesn’t react, most likely because he didn’t hear her.

  She dismounts, hands the reigns to a man who takes the horse to the stables, and walks to Jagger. Her face brightens with a smile as he finally notices her.

  She’s tall and slender, the ringlets of her long hair framing a pair of blue eyes. She reminds me of Liv. While my friend is more of a flower power girl, this woman has the grace and seasoned confidence of an heiress. Looking around me, I realize I might not be so far from the truth.

  He opens his arms, and she melts at his chest, pressing her body against him. Braxton’s hand goes in her hair, and brings her face to his chest, giving her a quick embrace, the resemblance of their features telling me they’re siblings.

  A different kind of light makes her eyes glitter as she shifts her focus back to Jagger. Captivated by him, she splays her fingers over his chest and brushes the bangs away from his face, every little tender gesture searing me inside.

  She cups his cheek, her fingers tracing his jawline, her lips curling into a soft smile.

  A strange sensation courses through me, and then a painful revelation. Everything I was afraid of turns out to be true. I see it so clearly now. It’s a glimpse of the future. His future. And mine.

  It’s right there. On this girl's face and in her eyes. I can see it from a mile. She’s in love with him. Braxton’s sister is in love with him.

  Half turned to me, he seems genuinely animated by her presence. Perhaps even infatuated with her... I can tell from the way he flicks his head back and pushes his chest out, and the way he touches his face. Everything gives him away, and he doesn’t even realize how smitten he is with her.

  The sky gets darker, and more lights come on.

  I shift my eyes away from them and press my palms on my stomach, suddenly feeling sick.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  A silver-haired woman gives me a puzzled look, her eyes filled with concern. I nod and rush away, looking for his car. I jump in and search for the keys. Maybe he left them here. I find them, start the engine, spin the car around and head for the cottage, a bad feeling pouring over me.

  I finally wake up from this beautiful dream and get a taste of the harsh reality, the bluntness of it crashing down on me.

  This is an illusion. Us was never supposed to happen. I was right. I have no business to be with him. Why did I have to listen to him? I was never the woman for him. I’m not his future. That girl or someone like her, is.

  I’m nothing but a crossroad.

  We’ll not travel together. There’s no way. I really have nothing for him. I lost my innocence in the worst possible way, and now I’m looking for freedom, and there is no place for him in my future. I don’t want what other women want, and I can’t rob him of that either. A half hour later the phone starts buzzing and messages come pouring in. I don’t want to hear them, and I don’t want to see them.

  It will break my heart to hear him.

  I’m not his woman, and he can’t be my man.

  Two hours later I pull in front of my house, leave his car in his driveway, run inside, make a couple of phone calls, pack a few things in a suitcase, and leave.

  3 r />
  JAGGER

  “Hey.”

  A soft hand curls around my arm. I spin around, and Diana, Braxton’s sister, crashes into my arms.

  “Hey. When did you come home?” I ask, pleasantly surprised.

  I hold her for a moment before I break our hug, and swiftly run my eyes on her.

  “You look good,” I say, and her blue eyes sink into mine, glinting warmly.

  “He didn’t tell you,” she says, nodding toward her brother.

  “No, he didn’t.”

  Braxton turns to us.

  “What?”

  “Why didn’t you tell Jagger I came back home, you jerk!” she says and smacks his arm.

  “Yeah, exactly, Braxton. Why didn’t you tell me?” I toss at him, smirking.

  Grinning, he flicks his middle finger up, and we start laughing.

  “He knows now,” Braxton says to his sister, and then glances at me, a smug smile on his face. “She still has the hots for you,” he says, winking at me, and her skin turns scarlet.

  “Shut up, big mouth!” she chides him.

  I study her for a moment as the blush spreads over her cheeks.

  “You should’ve stayed here if you liked him. Now he got himself a real woman,” he says.

  We lock eyes briefly, and his lips curl into a taunting smile. It’s my turn to clock him. He blocks my slap and laughs like an ass.

  I flick my eyes back to Diana.

  “He’s driving me crazy... The way he’s running his mouth,” I say. “So how’s Europe?”I ask, shifting my focus away from him.

  “Good. I love it. There are so many things to do.”

  “Especially Italians. She does a lot of them...The Italian men are really hot,” Braxton interjects himself.

  “Shut up!!” we both shout at him, and then we all burst into laughter.

  As the chuckling dies out, a shadow flits through her eyes.

  “So, you’re finally committed to someone,” she says, sadness brushing her voice.

  Braxton opens his mouth to say something, and I flick my finger up, hurling him a glare. Her eyes dart at him as well, a small smile playing on her lips, a questioning look on her face.