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Authors: Kristen Strassel

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BOOK: Wrapped Around My Finger
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. “There is no perfect time. But if you wait too long, you have no options. And that’s when you’re really in trouble. We start the development stage of the show on Monday.” Her face lit up, and she nudged me. “We’re hiring, and since you’re looking for a job—”

“I appreciate the offer, really, I do. But I have to decline.” Turning her down felt like ripping the skin from a healing wound. This was probably my only chance at a job that would keep my head above water.

Leah frowned and scooted her chair closer to me. The excitement that had accompanied her job offer was gone. “Why? I know you think it’s a pity fuck. But—“

I burst out laughing, holding my hand over my mouth not to snarf coffee across the kitchen.

She whacked my arm. “Listen! I wouldn’t have this show if it wasn’t for you. After our first date, appointment, whatever it was, I couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed all night thinking about you.”

All the blood in my body drained into my cock. “I always think of you when I’m in bed.” Another reason why we couldn’t work together.

“Are you going to let me finish? I’d never met anyone else who cared about abandoned properties before. Who wanted to make things better. I need you on my team. Someone who shares my vision.”

I kissed her again. Coffee tasted better on her lips. “First of all, you can’t go from my client to my boss—“

She rolled her eyes. “Nobody cares how we met.”

We both knew that was a lie.

“Now you’re not letting me finish.” It was impossible to fight with her. We were still floating on that cloud above reality, and the impact would hurt when we came down. “I don’t trust myself to keep my hands off you in an office. Your parents are awesome, but holy shit, they were everywhere in that house, and now all I want to do is pin you against the counter and fuck you, but Raven could come downstairs any second. She hates me already.”

“She doesn’t hate you. Don’t worry about Raven. I’ll talk to her.” Leah checked my mug to see that it was empty and stood. She wedged her leg between my chair and the table, between my thighs. Aware of the danger, she looked over her shoulder at the staircase. It was so fucking sexy. Coast clear, she turned back to me and leaned down. “Raven’s going to her friend’s house any minute.”

Best news I’d heard all day. My mouth went dry; I had an intense craving for Leah’s warm, sweet taste. “Happy New Year to us.”

She nodded. “What do you want to do tonight?”

That was easy. “You.”

Chapter Four

L
eah

Jagger Holiday was finally mine.

I didn’t let myself think about this day because I wasn’t sure it would ever come. The one where I didn’t have to share him with any other women, no matter what he said. He’d given all of himself on our first meeting before he could’ve possibly had any feelings for me. Or at least, I thought he did.

That was another thing I didn’t let myself think about. If I was with the man who seduced women for a living, or if I was really with
him
. I’d gone into love blind before, before I even knew what it was. Twenty something years later, I knew what it wasn’t. Jagger could be fooling me, but now that he’d quit his job as an escort, I had a pretty good feeling he was all in.

Holy shit,
he quit his job. For me. I was a hypocrite for hating it so much. If he hadn’t been an escort, he’d never be sitting in my kitchen, with me in his lap, catching his breath between stolen kisses.

And I was never letting him go.

“Funny thing about that,” I finally said. He’d gotten this look in his eyes before he said
you.
It made my knees weak and I’d sunk into his lap. I wished there was a way I could bottle this feeling. Light a candle and share its essence with the whole world. “I was thinking the same thing.”

His grin was a precursor of all the filthy things that awaited me as soon as Raven got the hell out of here. “You want to do you, too?” He leaned back in the chair, running his hand through his dark, shaggy hair. “There’s an idea I can get behind.”

I pushed his chest and the chair rocked back. Jagger’s reflexes were sharper than mine, and he grabbed the table before we toppled over.

Raven’s sigh pushed all the oxygen out of the room. “I’ll be back on the first.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder and left without another word.

It broke my heart. We hadn’t seen eye to eye on anything after the divorce, and it was like living with a roommate, someone who rented from me, instead of my teenage daughter. I was always so jealous when I saw other moms that had girls Raven’s age that actually said more than three words at a time to them. They considered each other friends. I wanted that so bad. In the last few weeks, things had been much better. I thought it was something I did to make it improve, that I was more approachable when I was happy.

I raised my daughter to share my values. I divorced my husband so she’d know she never had to settle for less than she was worth. Maybe now that she knew how I met Jagger, she thought I didn’t know my worth. We had to talk. I couldn’t go through that again.

“It’ll get better,” Jagger said softly, running his fingers over my cheeks, drying tears I hadn’t realized I shed. “I’ll book a flight back to Florida for the second. She needs some time to get used to things without me here.”

“I don’t want that, either.” I held his face, drawing my fingers over it slowly, memorizing the curve of his cheekbone, and the stubble beneath it. His lips were chapped and swollen from spending Christmas in a winter wonderland with me. This wouldn’t be easy, I knew that. Nothing good was. “How are we going to do this?”

“Same way we were before. I come see you, you come see me.” His fingers were warm under my sweater, his voice husky. “I can’t wait for you to come to Miami. We can go salsa dancing. I’m taking you to the topless beach.”

I burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.” This body was going nowhere near a bikini, and especially without its top.

“I’m serious. Promise me you’ll at least try it. Until then, I’ll picture the sun kissing you in places only I get to touch.”

Jagger’s gaze bathed my body in warm light, but I shivered. The idea terrified and excited me at the same time. He was used to women who wanted to test their limits. Just because those women were out of his life didn’t mean I wasn’t competing with them anymore.

“I promise to think about it.” I grabbed the empty mugs and stood up. “What do you want to do for New Years? Everything’s already booked for tomorrow night. I would’ve planned ahead, but I didn’t think I’d have you here.”

And have him, I would.

“Who said anything about going anywhere? I finally got you alone.” Jagger pushed the chair back and came up behind me. He pressed me against the sink. I almost dropped the mug. “What do you have in mind, Leah?”

I knew exactly what I wanted, but I didn’t answer him right away. I liked this way too much. The way his body felt against mine. These normal, stolen moments. I rinsed both mugs and set them in the drainer. It was a tight squeeze turning around, but I liked this even better—Jagger’s hard body, his heart beating frantically. “I want you to teach me how to salsa dance.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” I nodded. His hands fell to my hips, rolling them up and down. Closer to him, which I didn’t think was possible. “I don’t think that will be too hard. You’re a natural.”

**

W
e’d just gotten back from my parents’ house, and I wasn’t ready to host anything. Having Jagger here was a pleasant surprise. But I had science fair experiments in my fridge instead of food, and most tragically, no wine. We needed to do something about that.

After a late brunch and an afternoon of shopping, we kept it simple. We picked up wine, cheese and crackers, strawberries, and chocolate. I didn’t feel like cooking that night; we’d been force-fed by my mother for the last week, and I planned on getting drunk on Jagger and dancing the night away.

“Should we dress up?” I asked once the wine was poured. Salsa seemed like something that shouldn’t be done in jeans and socks.

Jagger shook his head. “How do you listen to music? Do you have an iPod dock?”

“I do some epic karaoke when I drive, but I usually don’t listen to it in the house.” It hurt my heart to admit that.

“Really? You don’t listen to music when you work? I’m way more creative if I have something in the background.”

“I never tried it.” All I had was my laptop. The sound quality sucked, but it didn’t matter. “I miss my boom box and my towers of tapes and CDs. Music used to be an event, and now I’ve kind of forgotten about it.”

“Make it an event again.” Jagger pulled his laptop out of his bag. I watched over his shoulder as he put together a playlist from his collection. The image of him listening to salsa music on a hot Miami night as he worked on his photos made my pussy throb. Every time I thought this man couldn’t get any sexier he proved me wrong. “I’ll load these songs on your computer if you promise you’ll think of me when you listen to them.”

I wished I could keep him in Washington with me. Jagger had a life in Miami, and just as I wasn’t willing to start over, it wasn’t fair for me to ask him to do it. But a girl could dream.

“I’ll do more than that. But you’ve got to teach me how to move to them first. So I can practice.” I got up when the horns started playing and held my hand out to him.

Jagger took it, lacing his fingers in mine, and put his other hand on my back. “Everything is an eight count. If I step forward, you step back. Start with your right foot.”

One foot in front of the other. It should’ve been easy. But between counting, anticipating the next move, and being completely distracted by Jagger, I kept stepping on his feet.

“Relax.” Jagger laughed, and I tried not to let my frustration show. I needed more wine. “I know you can move. Pretend we’re in bed.”

I pressed my lips together. “Like I can think of anything else.”

“Me neither,” he said against my ear, and I missed another step. “But we’re not fucking until you get this.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re punishing me for having two left feet?”

“More like rewarding you for good behavior. Think of it that way.”

I had the Tipsy White Lady at the Bar dance nailed. Why was this so hard? I gripped his hand, steeling myself to start again. This time, Jagger counted the steps out loud, and I could concentrate on the way our bodies moved together. He wasn’t satisfied until I made it through a whole song without stepping on him.

“That can’t be it.” It was too easy. “What about the hip stuff?”

“Nail the feet first, then add the hips,” he said. This was going to take all night. “Ready for the next step?”

Jagger taught me how to twirl and cross over. The next steps came easier, they weren’t so backward from what he was doing. I started anticipating his next move, following him until we circled the living room.

His body moved effortlessly like it was part of the song.

“I’m ready for the hip stuff now,” I said when he spun me into his chest. It was kind of a crash landing, I didn’t have everything perfect yet.

“So am I.” Jagger’s hands fell to my hips. Our gazes locked and no one had to tell me to roll my hips. His hands guided the motion. I rolled them like I did in bed. I had no idea if this was proper Salsa protocol. My partner didn’t complain.

Our lips gravitated to one another, the rhythm of the kiss complementing the movement of my hips. Jagger moved with me, just like the dance. Forward. Back. Round and round. His tongue a firm guide, just like his hands. We’d moved like this many times before, but we usually weren’t dressed or standing.

“I’m ready for something else.” He stopped dancing. The room still spun around me. “I think you learned your lesson.”

“I thought you said it was a reward.” After a few glasses of wine, he could’ve told me anything.

“It is.” His lips were back on mine, and that was all the convincing I needed.

Jagger led me to the couch. His hands were under my sweater, cupping my bra before we hit the cushion. The music still played, and his fingers danced over my breasts, keeping time as my nipples strained to meet the movement. I ached for him. We’d spent all week together, and finally we were home.

I wished he were more than a guest.
Baby steps, Leah. He just quit his job.
But when we were together like this, all I could think of was the distance between us. How we should’ve never met. It was a one in a million opportunity, and I was terrified. If we messed this up, we’d never get it back.

Fear throbbed thick in my throat, quelled by Jagger’s kisses. I fell back on the cushion, drinking it all in. His minty, vanilla scent. The rough tips of his fingers. The rasp of the stubble on his chin in contrast to his soft hair falling against my skin. Mixed with the music, I didn’t need wine to get drunk.

One more day. That’s all we had together. Until whenever next time was. I already knew what withdrawal felt like. The chills, the pain, the despair. No, I couldn’t let him get away.

My head swam when I sat up, and I had to focus on unbuttoning his shirt. Jagger watched me, heavy-lidded and still like the work of art he was. His broad shoulders bare, he unbuttoned the cuffs and let his hands fall so I could finish the job. Muscles defined his chest, and he shuddered when I ran my thumbs over his dusky nipples. I trailed down the plane of his stomach, bumping over the cut of each muscle. He groaned, his head falling back as I hooked inside the waistband of his jeans, anchoring myself into his lap.

This sweater was in the way, so I pulled it off and let it fall to the floor. Jagger grinned at me. My arms were still in the air, frozen like he’d taken a picture of me. He ran his hands up my sides, settling back on my bra. That wasn’t long for this world, but Jagger was taking his time. Everything this week had been stolen—the time; each kiss and caress was hushed, done in the shadows at my parents’ house. Even our first night back home, our restraint stayed in practice. Sound traveled through an old house with thin walls, and Raven had heard enough about our relationship already that day.

Now that we were finally alone, that feeling didn’t fade. We were in my living room, in the house I paid for, but this still felt forbidden. I couldn’t keep my lips away from Jagger’s, pulling him in close to me, riding the kiss like the steps to the dance.

BOOK: Wrapped Around My Finger
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