“What have you been thinking for names?” Jagger asked after a few minutes. I’d drifted to another place, thinking about how different things would’ve been if I’d got everything I’d wanted without having to fight for it. What kind of person I’d be, and if I’d like her.
“I’d like something that went with Raven’s name.” The girls probably wouldn’t be as close as I was with my sister, and I wanted to connect them anyway I could. “Something that sounds like it or has similar meaning. It means bird, of course, but it’s got roots in Native American mythology.”
“We could play on the R or the V, since it’s the strong part of her name, or pick something that ends in N.” Jagger even made art out of choosing a baby name. I loved it. Rich had shrugged at all my choices, but never made any other suggestions. I’d picked Raven because he liked it the least. “I can’t think of anything that would fit the mythology off the top of my head,” Jagger said.
I shifted to face him. “Raven’s middle name is a family name. Leigh was my grandmother’s name, and my great-grandmother’s name, since that’s how they rolled back then. I’m Leah and my sister was Lisa. I’d like to honor that.”
He nodded. “It could be her middle name. Lisa.”
My heart swelled when he said that. “Do you have any family naming traditions?”
The light faded from his eyes, like it did every time his family was mentioned. He talked to his sister, but when I asked him about it, he didn’t say much more than it went okay and she wasn’t coming to the wedding. There was more to it than that, but I’d pushed too hard lately. He’d tell me more when he was ready.
“Yeah, we do. Kind of similar to what your family does. Georgios came from my grandfather, that’s Greek tradition. Ruby’s real first name is Maria—“
“Just like Kari.” I shouldn’t have interrupted him, because for Jagger this was huge.
“Yeah. It’s unusual that we have more than one name, because that’s not how they do it in Greece, but my mom wanted to give us her family name, too.”
“And a little bit of the Stones.” I smirked, but Jagger rolled his eyes. He had his fill of comments about his name long before I came into the picture. “Family names are important.” Although it broke my heart that his name was so steeped in the tradition of a family that turned his back on him.
“I didn’t appreciate it when I was a kid, because I had two names and no one could spell my last name. But names are very important in Greece. Name Day is more important than our birthdays.”
“What’s your mom’s name? You know mine is Barbara.” Every time I thought of her name I heard it in my dad’s voice, usually followed by something like where’s the damn whatever he couldn’t find.
Jagger chuckled, probably thinking the same thing. “Susan.” He looked down, lost someplace else for a moment. “I’m going to call them.”
Holy shit. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He still wasn’t ready for eye contact. This wasn’t an easy decision for him, and he was probably still struggling with it. “After spending Christmas with your folks, I wondered—would they have accepted me if they’d met me without you? Let me finish. They like me because we care about each other. I like to think I make you happy, and they’ve seen the alternative. So if I approach my parents in the same way—as someone who’s capable of giving a fuck about someone besides myself, maybe they’ll be interested this time.”
Which made me think he’d tried to do this before unsuccessfully.
“I’m pretty biased, but I think you’re onto something.” I scooted over to put my arms around him. He ran his hand up and down my back. He needed to have someone accept what he had to give. “If it doesn’t work, you don’t have to wonder what if. And you have a family here that loves you very much.”
He pulled me in closer. “I couldn’t do it without you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Leah
“You still owe me.” Jagger’s body was a warm presence behind me in the still-dark apartment.
Stopping short and taking advantage of his surprise, I grabbed him. “I don’t see it that way.” I echoed his sentiment from earlier today. “I think we both win.”
“We will.” His body was hard against mine. “Take off your clothes, Leah. I’ve been waiting a long time to fuck you.”
“You have no idea.” My shirt was up over my head before I finished the sentence. My panties had to go but my knees were knocking so bad I’d probably fall over. “I’ve been daydreaming about your cock inside me for weeks.”
He palmed my breast and his thumb moved roughly over my nipple. They were already so much more sensitive, and I couldn’t wait to find out if the rest of me had followed suit. Jagger had taught me not to be ashamed of my body. Anyone who could do what he did to me didn’t care about a few stretch marks or how thick my thighs were. Standing in front of him, completely bare while he was still dressed, I felt powerful. My breasts were fuller, my belly round, and it was because we’d become one. We’d come to each other from a place of weakness and broken trust to make each other stronger. That’s what love is. I was so glad we got to experience it for the first time together.
“Tell me about what you were thinking about.” He let his hand fall, caressing my swollen belly. He didn’t linger long. This wasn’t about the journey, it was all about the destination. An electric bolt shot through me when he reached my pussy.
A slow circle of my clit, and if we didn’t fuck soon, I was going to be standing in a puddle of my own arousal, totally spent by just the prospect of having his cock. I couldn’t remember a time I’d been this starved for sex. I’d gone a long time without, but I’d never wanted it so badly.
“I’m waiting,” he reminded me, slipping his fingers inside me. The tremors started immediately. His thrusts were slow and methodical.
“That’s a good start,” I rasped. “Don’t bother trying to be sweet. Just take me.”
That was enough information for him. He guided me down to the floor while he still worked magic with his fingers. I lay there, relishing the sensation. He’d picked up the pace, his strokes harder and more frantic. Jagger sat beside me, my leg splayed across his lap, our gazes locked. The pressure was building, and I cried out as he went back to rubbing my clit.
It wasn’t what he was doing to me with his hand that was so intense, it was the look in his eyes. Lust, desire, and complete adoration. I’d wanted this for so long, and it was even more of a homecoming than the first night I’d called this place my own. We both knew what it was like to lose, to be denied of something so essential to our identities. Jagger and sex were synonymous, and he needed to be able to express himself fully.
Pelvic rest was about way more than finding creative ways to get each other off. As my muscles trembled around his fingers, I realized it had been a test. These last few weeks had been the hardest part of our relationship. And we got through it. It wasn’t perfect, and we both still wanted more, but we did it. We’d come out on the other side stronger than ever.
Jagger lay beside me, brushing my hair away from my face, murmuring things to me while I panted. I wasn’t ready to accept his kisses yet. I’d drown in them.
“I missed being inside you so much,” Jagger’s voice was hoarse, like he’d just come crashing down from an orgasm, too. “I had to start slow, because I didn’t know if I could control myself otherwise.”
“You’re always inside me.” I put my hand on his chest to show him where. His heart pounded under my touch. “That never changes.”
He grasped my hand, pulling it up to his mouth and kissing it, moving down my arm. I was finally ready to accept his kiss when he reached my lips. “I don’t deserve you,” he said between kisses.
“Yes, you do.” I wasn’t going to minimalize my declaration by saying I didn’t deserve him. We both were long overdue for this kind of happiness. We’d played things safe in our own ways for too long. Taking chances paid off.
“Okay, I do.” He grinned,
reaching down to free himself from his pants. Finally. “So many times I’ve told myself I’m gonna go slow with you, not because I don’t think you can handle it, but because I want to savor everything that happens. You have no idea how sexy you are. I could watch you do this forever.”
“You have no idea how sexy you make me feel.” I pulled him down the minute he climbed on top of me. His cock was hot against the inside of my thigh. To make sure I got my point across, I hooked my leg over his ass.
No more complete sentences for Jagger as he positioned himself to enter me. I couldn’t think either, as he pushed inside. Everything stopped. I hadn’t forgotten how this felt, but I’d sure learned to appreciate it in the last few weeks. He rolled his hips back, doing his best to control himself. Steady, even strokes. I wanted to tell him how good it felt, but I wasn’t in control of the noises that came out of me. His intensity increased, just like I knew it would, until he stopped.
His hair stuck to his face, a sheen of sweat coated his skin. “Get on top,” he rasped. “I want to watch you.”
I was lightheaded when I sat up. My body had been in full preparation mode for orgasm number two, and I was out of practice from having them so close together. We’d been thankful for one during pelvic rest, a far cry from our usual time together. I hooked one rubbery leg over his body. It wasn’t as easy to straddle him anymore. “You have to help me.”
He nodded, lifting me up and positioning me over his cock. His physical strength always caught me off-guard. I wondered if it gave him the confidence to be so gentle in other aspects of his life—with his photography, and with the way he saw the world, especially me. It would make him an amazing dad.
I fell forward when he lifted his hips, sliding me up and down his shaft. I gripped his shoulders, my face hanging over his. Everything I had flowed into him, and I gave him complete control. But he didn’t have it, either—the movements became quick and irregular, and the rumblings of the next orgasm had begun. My body pulsed and throbbed, my arms shook, barely able to keep myself up, even that little bit.
The sensation took control from both of us. Jagger’s body stilled as he came, and I fell forward while he was inside me. Whispers of kisses landed on his cheeks, his neck, and finally his lips, saying everything I didn’t have the words for.
**
“You look adorable,” Shannon said when I came out. I usually used any excuse for the opportunity to buy a new dress, but this one had been out of absolute necessity. Everything else was way too tight. While I was proud to show off my emerging baby belly, I didn’t want to split my dress at this month’s First Friday event. Not the kind of exhibit we intended to share with the Miami art community.
“Wasn’t exactly the look I was going for.” I tugged on my dress. Maternity clothes had gotten cuter in the last twenty years, but not much more comfortable. “I was hoping for sexy, sophisticated, soon-to-be wife of a gallery owner.”
Shannon shrugged. She had on a hot little dress that made her legs look like they went on for miles. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that might not be the look you should be going for. We always hear about art snobs and how fine art or photography isn’t practical for the everyday person to buy. You look great—don’t get me wrong. You also look approachable and down to earth. If the clients feel like they can identify with you, they might be more likely to buy something.”
“That’s one of the smartest things I’ve ever heard.” I rubbed my belly while I considered that. The baby greeted me with a kick. I wanted to let her know we were out here, waiting for her to arrive. “It makes so much sense. That was always one of my arguments with Diane. That we needed to do things on the show that everyday people could actually relate to.”
“Oh, you mean everyone couldn’t drop a quarter of a mil to renovate their home recording studio?” Shannon laughed. “That was all a lot of fun, but I actually like working with Claire more. She’s got a butt-ton money, too, but there’s something about her that doesn’t come across that way. She actually cares what we’re doing.”
“Exactly. Because she’s going to live in it.” We’d been yessed to death by the celebrity clients on most of our Great Start projects. Claire had concerns and opinions. I thought she was happy to have someone to talk to who cared about what she wanted, but I kept that to myself. “She’s bringing new recruits to tonight’s party. I hope you packed your running shoes. You’ll need them.”
“I can’t wait.” She laughed as we headed out into the main gallery. “The vibe in here is so different from when I left. There’s something so chill about it. If I were still in school I’d want to come here and write my papers.”
“We’ve had a few people come in to hang out,” Jagger added. He always looked so handsome in his suit jacket. Nothing about him was traditional, but when he dressed up, the contrast made my mouth water. “I’d bill it as a place to do that, but we’re trying to sell the furniture, too. Can’t have too many ass prints on it.”
“Let’s sell it all tonight.” Shannon ran her hand over my favorite new piece, a teal velvet chaise, before putting her own ass prints on it. If it made any sense in our apartment, we’d have owned this thing already. “What do you want me to do?”
“Hang out by the door, and take the invitations. After seven, First Friday is invite only. That’s when we can offer wine and champagne. Claudia will be here soon, but since her paintings are displayed this month, she’ll stay near them to talk to the patrons. Jagger will be manning his work, and I’ll walk around the floor to talk about the design elements. I’ll direct anyone connected to Claire your way. I want them to get to know you, too. The other artists will be here shortly. If anyone asks about a specific piece, direct them to the right person. Other than that, make everyone feel like they’re at home, and take their money if you can.”
The first group of patrons made a beeline to Jagger. His face lit up as they started talking, but he kept glancing over to me when he spoke. Interesting. He was a master of making people feel like nothing else existed when he spoke to them. It wasn’t just me, I’d watched him do it with others many times. The only time he didn’t give them his undivided attention was if he was unsure of himself. He’d gotten so much better at selling his art lately, his insecurity piqued my curiosity. I lingered, trying to listen in.
“. . . properties all over South Florida. I’ve been following an Urban Exploration group for the last five years. They scout the locations, and I try to check out what’s interesting before some of the guys who are less serious get to them. Not everyone leaves things as they found them. I like to try to find hints of what made the property great, or what led to its downfall. Let me introduce you to my fiancé, Leah.”
Hearing him describe me like that still made my heart skip a beat. I approached, narrowing my eyes at Jagger before turning to face the guests. Our mind-melding capabilities weren’t a hundred percent yet, and I had no idea what the heck was going on because the confusion had faded and the glow was back.
I held out my hand to the couple. “Pleased to meet you.”
The man and the woman introduced themselves, but the names didn’t ring a bell.
“They’re here from the Oswald Museum of Modern Art in Kansas City. And they’re interested in commissioning my work for an exhibit,” Jagger said.
My mouth dropped. “No way.”
“Jagger actually caught our eye on your show. We’ve featured several installations based on the change that’s impacted our country. We’ve been especially fascinated by things left behind, much like Jagger. We’d done some research after seeing you on Great Start Today, and we’d planned to reach out to you in some capacity when Second Chances started. Jagger’s work fascinated us. We loved his perspective. Even more so in the way that you’ve set up this gallery. It’s very unique, and I have to confess, we’ve been scoping it out for the last few days.” The woman grinned in time with her confession. “We’re hoping that Jagger would be interested in putting together a collection
for our museum, and coming to talk to our guests. We have a feeling if they weren’t already passionate about properties like this, they would be after listening to him speak.”
“He’s pretty persuasive.” I pulled him in closer to me. An awkward side hug in a room full of people seemed inadequate when I really wanted to jump up and down and squeal like I’d won the lottery. The gallery had been Jagger’s dream come true, but he’d never dared to consider this. He wasn’t always confident when it came to his art because he didn’t think he was legit. This sealed the deal.
Jagger was an artist worthy of respect.
The man traded business cards with Jagger, and they made plans in a few days to discuss what the museum wanted from him. The couple stayed at the gallery, taking time to take in the other exhibits and speak with the artists. I hoped they found someone else that got them excited. It would be cool to have an entire theme of Miami artists.
Jagger collapsed in the chair near his display, holding his head in his hands. He looked up at me, his hair hanging in his face. “Holy fuck.”
I landed in his lap, aware every eye in the room was on us. I wanted to shout the news from the rooftops, but I had a feeling that museums were probably much like television production—nothing was guaranteed until it actually happened. Instead I grinned like an idiot at everyone in general before nuzzling against Jagger’s cheek. “It’s because you’re amazing.”
He was pretty much speechless, opening his mouth to speak then shaking his head. But there was no camouflaging the smile. “I spent so long being invisible. Not even a person—“
“Don’t say that.” It hurt me the worst because there was some truth in it.
“That’s how I felt. And to have people dig my pictures like that, and take an interest in me before they even saw them . . . it blows my mind.”
“There’s a reason why you’re so good at everything you do.” I slid off his lap before we made people uncomfortable. “Because you put everything you have into it. There’s no denying the honesty when you work like that. And that’s what’s lacking from any mediocre piece of art—honesty. It doesn’t matter how correct someone is or even how good it is. It’s the passion that makes people fall in love.”
Ties That Bind (The Escort, #3) Page 17