Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“Jagger!” I ran to him and jumped into his arms. “Oh my God. Are you okay? Did they just let you go?”
He nodded. “I came straight here.”
Jagger’s eyes were rimmed with dark circles, as well as being bloodshot and swollen, and his hair was sticking up all over. It looked like he’d spent hours pulling on it. Yet he was still the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
I pressed my lips to his, but when he didn’t kiss me back, my heart sank. He gestured to the door. “Could we go inside and talk?”
I swallowed. “Yeah. Of course.”
I unlocked the door, walked in, and put my keys on the kitchen counter. Jagger looked uncomfortable, standing just inside the doorway. “Do you want coffee or something?”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
He took a seat on the couch while I buzzed around making a pot of coffee. We hadn’t been together the last few weeks, but I thought him going after Silas had meant something. Perhaps I was wrong. He was a protective man, and maybe I’d read into his actions, making them mean more than they did. I’d been jumping out of my skin, anxious to talk to him, but now that he was here, I took my time preparing his mug because I was nervous about what he might say. Eventually, I couldn’t stall anymore.
I passed him his cup and took the seat on the chair across from him, rather than the couch. “Did they charge you with anything?”
He gulped down half his coffee and shook his head. “Not yet.”
“But they still might?”
Jagger shrugged. “My lawyer said it was a possibility. He doesn’t think the detective believes I didn’t do what the guy said I did, but I’m not sure they care.” He caught my eye. “Thank you, by the way, for not telling them what you saw when you walked in.”
“It’s the least I could do after what you’ve done for me.”
Jagger looked down for a long time before meeting my eyes. “Come here.”
My heartbeat sped up. I wanted to be close to him more than anything, but I still had an ounce of self-protection left in me. “Why?”
“Because I need you, Sutton.” His voice was raw and gritty. “So fucking much.”
I moved to the couch, but left space between us. Jagger looked at the gap, then me, then the gap, and shuffled closer. The simple gesture said so much—Jagger was the kind of man who took what he wanted. If he wanted me close, he normally would just pull me to him. But now he was giving instead of taking.
I shook my head. “I don’t understand what happened between us.”
He nodded. “I know. There’s a lot I need to tell you. Most of it doesn’t have anything to do with you, but it might explain why I am the way I am.”
“Okay…”
He reached for my hand. “Before I start, I need to apologize. I’m so sorry I hurt you, Sutton.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” He shook his head. “I knew I was going to, but I’m so damn selfish, I couldn’t keep away. There were a million red flags waving around, a million reasons why it was a bad idea to get involved, yet I fucking ignored them all.”
“There might’ve been very good reasons to keep your distance, but there was a stronger reason for us to be together.” I put my hand over my heart. “What feels right in here outweighs all the wrongs.”
Jagger wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. I could barely breathe, but it didn’t matter; I would’ve stayed like this forever. It felt so good to be in his arms again. Too soon, though, he pulled back. He looked into my eyes for a long time before taking a deep breath.
“When I was six years old, I learned to pick the locks on mailboxes because my mother believed the government was sending all of our neighbors a letter about her. I would break into a dozen a day and bring my mother the mail I found, and she would burn it all in the bathtub. When I was twelve, I convinced the guy who owned the pizza place I was fifteen and got a job delivering pies on my bike in order to pay the rent because my mother hadn’t come home in a few weeks.”
I squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”
Jagger shook his head. “I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel bad for me. I’m telling you because I want you to understand what having control means to me. Paying the rent meant I was certain to have a roof over my head, and burning the mail meant my mother might not ramble all night and I could sleep. But I was also a dumb kid with no one watching me, so I was out of control. When I was a teenager, I got arrested four times in a year, and I wound up going into the Marines because it was that or prison. I hated the military when I first enlisted, but as time went on, I grew to appreciate the rules and order. And I realized if I did what I was told, I’d move up in the ranks, which meant I got to be the one making the rules instead of listening to them. But I never fully understood the gravity of what could happen when I fucked up.”