Bad Boy Valentine (Bad Boys on Holiday Book 2) Page 6

  Even that couldn’t drown out the sound of her laughter, of their easy conversation. Jagger hadn’t expected rainbows and sunshine with Kate—there was too much history there, too much unsaid shit between them—but he didn’t think it would be so damned impossible. In three days of working close quarters like this, they could barely say hello without ripping each other’s heads off. But this guy saunters through the door like a world-class asshole, ready to sweep her off her feet with nothing more than that pussy-melting accent…

  Just before the drywall caught fire from all the friction, the sander suddenly lost power. He turned to find Kate in the same position as before, cord dangling from her hand, frustration written all over her face.

  Good.

  “Are you finished?” she snapped.

  “What happened to Benedict Cummed-His-Pants out there? Late for a polo match at the yacht club?”

  “Seriously? Could you be any more rude?”

  Jagger let out a dry laugh. “Believe me, honey. I’m just getting warmed up.” When it was clear she wouldn’t take the bait, Jagger let it go. He thumbed toward the front room, trying to keep the snarl off his face. “That guy a friend of yours, or what?”

  Kate folded her arms across her chest. “Or what.”

  Fucking great.

  “He’s Jared Blackwell,” she finally said, exasperated.

  “Fuck is Jared Blackwell?”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “FierceConnect?”

  Jagger shrugged. “Got nothin’. Sorry.”

  “He’s the CEO of the company hosting the Valentine’s event next week. Show some respect. He’s pretty much the reason you have a job.”

  “The reason I have a job, sweetheart, is the bush league assholes you hired before me fucked everything up.”

  “Nice try.”

  “I don’t like how he looked at you.”

  Kate smirked. Fuck. Jagger hated letting her see how much she was getting to him. How much that guy was getting to him.

  “Yeah?” she asked. “How was that?”

  “You know how.”

  “That’s rich, considering you couldn’t even see us from in here.”

  “I saw enough.”

  “Well guess what, Jagger Barnes. When it comes to guys looking at me, you no longer get a vote.”

  “I’m just saying, he—”

  “Same goes for guys coming in here to buy my coffee and pastries. Guys talking to me. Taking me out for dinner. Taking me to bed—”

  “Jesus fuck.” Was she trying to send him to an early grave?

  “I mean it, Jagger. You have no say in my personal life. No say in my friends, my dates, my clothing, my finances, my business affairs. Other than what’s happening with this wall?” She pounded it twice with her fist. “I don’t want your opinion or your judgment on anything. Frankly, I don’t even want to know you’re here.”

  “Yeah?” Jagger laughed. “You keep telling yourself that, Miss Molina.”

  “Oh, I will.” She took a step toward him, eyes blazing. “Because it’s the truth.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “It is!” Another step. She was close enough that Jagger could smell her perfume.

  Cinnamon and spice, everything nice.

  He fought to keep his face neutral. “Fine by me.”

  “Me, too!” she shouted. “It’s fine! Everything is fine!”

  For the second time in ten minutes, Kate was in his space, crowding him, closing in on him, glaring at him with a look that could only mean one thing—no matter how angry she was.

  Jagger lowered his eyes, forcing himself to focus on a patch of drywall that needed plastering. He may have been rusty on reading a woman’s signals, but unless his shit was totally broken…

  Believe me, Kit-Kat. There’s nothing I’d love to do more than take you right here against this wall, no more talking, no questions asked.

  Fuck, he was so worked up by the idea, he couldn’t stop the collision of thoughts crashing through his brain.

  Kate, gasping as he shoved her hard against the wall.

  Kate, arching her back and spreading her thighs, begging him for it just like she used to.

  Kate, moaning his name again and again as he ripped the panties from her ass and buried himself to the hilt, not even bothering to take off that pretty little dress of hers.

  Kate, coming with the force of a storm, and then giggling her sweet little ass off…

  “Jagger,” she fumed, taking another step closer. He watched helplessly as the bottom of her dress swished across her knees. Fuck, he wanted to feel that silky fabric against his face as he pushed that dress up her thighs…

  “Look at me,” she said.

  He finally looked away from her legs, dragging his eyes up the length of her thighs and torso, up over those lush, perfect tits, finally landing on her face. She was watching him with her big, blue eyes, her forehead creased, mouth parted as she tried to slow down her breathing.

  Those eyes… Hell, he used to be able to stare into those eyes and know exactly what she was thinking, for better or worse. He could lose himself in them for hours, or for one damn minute, and know everything there was to know about Kate Molina.

  Now she was totally guarded. Closed off. He’d done that to her, and it broke his fucking heart.

  I’m so, so sorry, baby.

  He looked at her hard, willing her to hear the words inside. Willing her to believe them, to forgive him.

  Something flickered in her eyes, and for a second, the walls crumbled down. Jagger saw Kate, stripped bare and vulnerable, as lonely for him as he was for her. Instinctively, and for the second time that day, he reached for her, brushing his knuckles across her jaw like he’d done at least a million times before, back when he never thought he’d have a reason to count those touches, to remember them as the last best days of his life.

  Kate sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, and he opened his hand and allowed himself to feel the silky softness of her face, her hair tickling the back of his hand.

  “You’re such a dick,” she whispered. “You know that?”

  Nodding dumbly, he brushed the pad of his thumb across her lips, full and soft, watching in awe as she parted them for him. He felt the wet heat of her mouth on the tip of his thumb as she took him in, and then the sharpness of her bottom teeth, and the soft, velvet-smooth pleasure of her tongue.

  Barely suppressing a groan, he lowered his mouth, heart pounding in his ears.

  She was so damn close, so damn warm. All he had to do was claim her. One kiss, and she’d be his.

  Just open your mouth, lean in, and make her yours again…

  Ah, hell. Much as he’d hated the nagging, the bickering, it was actually a lot easier when he and Kate were fighting.

  Because when they weren’t five seconds from tearing each other’s throats out, they were five seconds from tearing each other’s clothes off, and that could not happen.

  Jagger let his hand drop away from her face and stood up straight, putting some much-needed distance between them. As much as he wanted her, as much as she thought she wanted him, going down that road now would dead-end in a whole mess of complications neither of them needed.

  He couldn’t do that to her. He’d fucked up her life enough already.

  “I need some air,” he finally said. His hand was warm where he’d touched her, and he balled it into a fist, stalking to the other side of the room. From a chair in the corner where he’d been piling his shit, he grabbed his T-shirt and jacket. “Try not to fire me while I’m gone.”

  Chapter Eight

  Kate watched Jagger yank the shirt over his head, shove his arms into his leather jacket, and scoop the helmet into the crook of his arm, a rapid-fire move so familiar to her, so comfortable, it felt like she was watching a scene from her favorite movie. She’d memorized all the lines, all the stage directions, everything that came before and after.

  God, they’d known each other so well, for so many y
ears, and then it was just… gone. Years of love, of shared secrets, of passion, of hopes and dreams, all of it vanishing in a single night. Maybe even in a single minute—the moment he’d made the decision to walk out their bedroom door that night.

  For more than a decade, Jagger had been the first thing on Kate’s mind every morning, the last every night. She’d be lying if she said that still wasn’t the case.

  There was a hole inside of her the exact same shape of him, and nothing else could ever fill it. She’d missed him so much over the years.

  She missed him still.

  “Jagger,” she said softly, unable to meet his eyes. In a trembling voice, before she could talk herself out of it, she whispered a single plea. “Take me with you. Please.”

  The room had fallen silent, and when she finally looked up, she found him watching her, assessing. She couldn’t tell whether he was trying to talk himself into something or out of it.

  Say yes. Just say yes.

  “You comin’, or what?” His jaw was clenched, his mouth set in a grim, severe line.

  But there was fire in his eyes.

  The hint of a dimple.

  And finally, there it was, the full-on Jagger Barnes smile.

  “Yes!” Kate had to stop herself from jumping up and down like a little girl. “Give me five minutes to put on some jeans and lock up.”

  “We talkin’ regular person five minutes,” he said, still smiling, “or Kate Molina five minutes? I don’t have all day, you know. My boss is kind of a—”

  “Hey!” Kate laughed, all the tension between them gone. “Regular person minutes, okay? And let’s make it three instead of five.”

  Maybe even two.

  She had a date on the back of a motorcycle with Jagger Barnes, and she wasn’t about to waste a single minute of it.

  * * *

  “Hold on real tight,” Jagger said, pressing her hand against his rock-hard abs. Kate was wedged in behind him, straddling the bike, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. His voice was muffled by the helmet he’d insisted she wear, but she could still hear him. “When we turn, lean into it with me. And try not to smack me in the back with the face shield.”

  “I remember all the bike passenger etiquette,” she said.

  “Yeah? What else do you remember?” Jagger asked.

  She felt the deep rumble of his laugh and knew exactly where his mind had gone, because hers had already beaten him there: their first ride together. Kate’s first time. Her real first time.

  Kate closed her eyes, losing herself in the pleasure of the sweet, sexy memory. She’d just finished out her junior year of high school, and Jagger had just graduated, the hot as hell bad boy all the girls simultaneously feared and dreamed about. He’d grown up in Red Hook, but had transferred to her school for his last year after getting kicked out of his own school for starting one too many fights, a last chance kind of deal. On the outside, he was a hardass, the guy with nothing to lose, the guy no one fucked with. But Kate? She knew the true size of his heart. His endless capacity for love. His fierce loyalty. His silly side.

  They’d been together all that school year, and that night, after a campaign months in the making, he’d finally convinced Gran to let her go for a ride on his motorcycle. He’d taken her up to Bear Mountain, to a perfect little spot in the park where they could be alone and just unwind, away from the crush of the city, from their friends, from Gran and his Uncle Max. He’d even packed a picnic, made a whole playlist. It was so damn romantic. After the picnic, they’d gotten back on the bike and rode to a secluded overlook to watch the sunset. He’d told her he loved her, that he wanted to spend his life with her.

  She’d straddled him right there. Right on the bike. It was magic. Awkward and uncomfortable, of course. But magic, full of passion and laughter, full of fire that only got stronger—not to mention a hell of a lot sexier—with each passing year together.

  In the hundreds of Harley rides she’d taken with him after, she’d never not been able to think about that night.

  Including right now.

  “You’ve got a dirty mind, Miss Molina,” he said, still laughing.

  Kate head-butted him between the shoulder blades, but she was laughing, too. It was like the bike was a time machine, whirring them back to lighter, happier times, way back before all the fighting and the drama.

  Way back before the end.

  “Ready?” he said, squeezing her hand once. She squeezed back to let him know she was good to go, and then he gripped the handlebars, jumping on the kickstart. On the third try, the engine roared to life, the bike rumbling between Kate’s thighs like a loud, wild beast, hungry for the open road.

  It sent a rush of adrenaline through her body that she hadn’t felt in years.

  Jagger pulled away from the curb, weaving into the crush of Woodside Avenue traffic, eventually navigating them onto the BQE. Traffic was choppy across Manhattan, but once they hit the Palisades Parkway on the Jersey side, the road was clear and open, begging for them to tear it up. Jagger shifted gears, and Kate felt the muscles in his body loosen, lengthen, the tension draining right out of them.

  The sky was clear and jewel-blue, the sun beaming as they rocketed along the highway. Within minutes, the thick tree-lined border of the Palisades faded into a blur of skeleton bone branches, waving them along to some distant place.

  Kate was so happy, so relaxed, she didn’t even feel the chill in the air. Like Jagger’s muscles, Kate’s seemed to be unknotting themselves one by one, stretching out and relaxing in the crisp spring air. She felt like she could fly.

  The contrasting sensations made her head spin. She was soaring above the earth on a rocket ship, but she was still grounded, rooted by the pure physicality of it—of the bike rumbling over the pavement, of Jagger’s warm body sitting in front of her. The whole world rushed by, but Kate and Jagger were right here. Together. Untouchable. Invincible.

  On the back of Jagger’s Harley, Kate had always felt like she could accomplish anything.

  Jagger had done that for her, and she’d done the same for him. As teens, they were troubled. Angry. Lost. But somehow, they’d found each other. And together, as the rest of the world spun around them, they’d built a safe haven from the storm. A home. An epic love full of passion and fire, never wavering.

  Fighting, fucking, laughing, riding the bike… everything they did together was pure passion. Love. Lust. All of it. They’d belonged to each other once, and there was a time when Kate would’ve died before she’d let anything change that.

  But in the end, she hadn’t been given a choice.

  Something did change it. Jagger changed it.

  God, she was so confused. She should hate him, shouldn’t she? She did hate him. But that’s where things got muddled. Lots of people believed that the opposite of love was hate, but Kate knew better. The opposite of love was indifference. And whatever her feelings for Jagger were now, she certainly wasn’t indifferent.

  Far from it.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Jagger grabbed her hand again, pinning it against him and squeezing hard. It was possessive, that touch. But it was protective, too. Kate kept her hand firmly in place, closing her eyes and letting her body sense everything at once—the snap of the wind against her arms and legs, the growl of the machine vibrating between her thighs, the warmth of Jagger’s body before her, his hand holding her steady.

  On the Harley there was no talking. No fighting. Nothing but the road, the sky, the sun, and the wind as they sped away from the city, from their troubles. They rode for hours, all the way up the Hudson, through Bear Mountain State Park and past West Point and beyond before Jagger finally turned them back toward home.

  It was dark and cool when they finally pulled up to Sweet Bliss. Most of the other storefronts were closed at that hour, but the Irish pubs in the area were just getting started for the night, their muffled bass and music floating on the air. Jagger was lucky his parking spot was still open.

&
nbsp; They sat unmoving for a moment, the bike ticking beneath them as the sounds of the city slowly infiltrated. Across the street, a yellow cab blared its horn, narrowly avoiding a collision with a Chinese food delivery guy on a moped, who’d let out a colorful string of curses. On the elevated tracks overhead, the 7-Train rumbled into Woodside Avenue—61st Street station, finally screeching to a halt.

  “Woodside and Sixty-First,” the conductor announced over the intercom. “Transfer here for the Seven local and Long Island Railroad. Flushing-bound Seven express. Next stop, Junction Boulevard. Express, express. Seven express. Stand clear of the closing doors.”

  Kate had heard the spiel more times than she could count, but tonight it felt wrong, invasive. She didn’t want to go back to reality. Not yet.

  Jagger finally hopped off the bike, turning to offer her a hand. He’d worn his safety goggles to keep the wind out of his eyes, but his hair was wild and unkempt, swept back off his face by the constant wind. He only had the one helmet, which he’d insisted Kate wear, and his cheeks were red and—she imagined—cold to the touch.

  But his eyes sparkled, and his body seemed relaxed and happy.

  Just like hers.

  Taking his hand, Kate climbed off the bike, her legs a little wobbly from the long ride. She took off the helmet and shook out her hair, her whole body buzzing and alive. The night air was cool on her skin, her heart was pounding madly, Jagger was watching her with an intensity she hadn’t seen in his eyes in years, and Kate lost all sense of right and wrong.

  Love him? Hate him? She wasn’t ready to decide. All she knew right now was that she did not want her night with Jagger Barnes to end.

  Chapter Nine

  She’s so fucking beautiful.

  Kate looked so happy, so at peace after that ride. Staring at her like an idiot, Jagger felt drunk. Everything else around him was just noise, a blur, a dull gray haze interrupted only by the color—the blazing light—of Kate.