And she was gushing.
Now Tiffany blew out a dreamy sigh. “Yeahhh, all the right stuff. He sounds great.”
She had to admit, he was pretty great. There had to be something she was missing. Didn’t everyone come with relationship baggage at their ages? Of course they did. She came with baggage. Not a carousel full, but there was an issue or two.
As a for instance, she’d never considered a long-term relationship because most men eventually ended up turned off by her love of rescue and the vast amount of cats who basically owned her.
She’d been called all sorts of things, from Crazy Cat Lady to Whackadoodle, for caring as deeply as she did about what most considered “just an animal”, as though just an animal didn’t feel many of the same emotions humans did.
So she’d settled for the occasional boyfriend until they interfered with her rescues and then she broke up with them when they forced her to choose—and they always asked her to choose.
But Jagger was different. So much different than anyone she’d ever shared a bed with.
And they hadn’t even shared a bed yet. But she sure as hell wanted to share a bed.
After seeing him naked, she knew she wanted to share a bed—a floor—a couch—whatever. That had cinched the dealio for her.
“So do you see this going somewhere?” Tiffany asked over the brim of her steaming cup of coffee, her eyes shiny with interest.
“I don’t—” She stopped short, covering her nose and mouth with her forearm and sneezing into it as her head stuffed up without warning. “Sorry. I’m not feeling so well suddenly.”
Tiffany’s eyes went soft. “Can I get you something? Orange juice maybe?”
Viv’s head began to swim and her eyes watered. Grabbing some napkins from the dispenser, she shook her head. “I think I’d better go. Like, I really don’t feel well, but it was really nice talking with you again.”
Tiffany was up and on her feet in seconds, helping Viv zip up her vest and tightening her scarf. “I’ll be here all month, let’s get together again. I’d love to chat more. While I love it here, there’s not exactly a lot to do.”
“I’d like that.” Viv ran off her number to Tiffany to add to her phone before she began sneezing again. “I’ll see you soon.”
She waved a weak hand over her shoulder and headed for the diner’s doors to head home.
The cold hit her hard, biting at her aching limbs. The sun, so gloriously shining when she’d arrived at the diner, was now covered in more clouds—which could only mean more snowfall.
Tucking her chin into her vest, Viv forced her legs to move along the sidewalk and closer to the cottage. One goal in mind.
Nyquil and her fuzzy, one-piece pajamas with the feet.
* * * *
“Viv?”
She held the phone away from her mouth as she sneezed again, scaring the BSB Boys and JT. “Jagger?” Ugh, hearing her voice reminded her of a croaking frog.
“Are you okay, honey? I’ve been trying to call you for two hours now.”
“I think I have a touch of the flu. Have any more animals been attacked?” she asked, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, only to have to steady herself with a hand to her nightstand.
“Everything’s fine. No one’s hurt, but Midge at the diner mentioned you left sneezing and coughing. When I couldn’t get in touch, I got worried.”
Howie nudged her hand, meowing his discontent. “Oh, good. Because if you need me, I can be dressed in five minutes.”
“The hell you’re going anywhere. You need to stay in bed where it’s warm.”
AJ joined in the chorus of meows, his round black face pleading with her to feed him. “Sorry, the boys are making a racket.”
“I hear. Open the door and I’ll take care of them while you rest.”
“Where are you?” she asked, panicked.
She looked dreadful. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, the rims of her nostrils were bright pink, and she smelled like the bottom of a vaporizer. Not to mention, she had on pajamas with a trap door. Fuzzy pink pajamas.
“Outside your door, mistress. I told you, I was worried when you didn’t answer your phone.”
“Oh, no. You have to go away, Jagger. I look hideous.”
“I’ll close my eyes, but if you turn me away, you’ll miss out on the awesome chicken soup and crackers I made…just sayin’.”
“You can make crackers? OMG, you’re amazing.”
Jagger barked a laugh, one she’d come to love hearing. “Let me in or I’ll have to break the door down. Which, at six-five and two fifty, is totally doable. Plus, brrr. Cold. You don’t want me to get sick, too, do you? Think of all the wee animals in Cedar Glen who need veterinary care.”
She fought her way to the front door amid yowling cats and unlocked it, backing away. “It’s open, but if you hiss and hide from the sight of me, you have to go.”
He pushed the door open, his arms full of a Thermos and a bag from the grocery store, looking as handsome as always, and making her heart skip a beat.
He let out a screech worthy of a frightened teenage girl and hissed. “OMG, you are hideous! Will I turn to stone if I look at you?” Jagger attempted to cover his face with the grocery bag as the cats bombarded him.
As a response, she coughed when she attempted to laugh.
Jagger set the Thermos and the bag on her counter. “Okay, that’s it, pretty lady. Bed. Now.” He pointed his finger toward her bedroom. “I’ll handle the cats and whatever else needs handling, but you need to rest.”
“Where’s Scar?”
“Outside in a nice warm van. I’ll get him if you’d like, but you’re going to bed.”
“Will he cuddle?”
“He’d cuddle—”
“Satan. Then bring him in. I could use a warm cuddle-buddy while you tend to my every need.”
Jagger crossed the room and dropped a kiss on her forehead then set her away from him with a frown. “You’re warm.”
She leaned into his solid warmth as another attack of the chills assaulted her. “I prefer hot.”
“And sassy as always. Bed. Now.”
She did as she was told, not minding even a little that a man was ordering her around in her own house.
Climbing under the fluffy comforter, Viv listened to the sounds of Scar grunting as Jagger ordered him to bed, too.
Scar hopped up next to her, burying his sweet face in her neck, groaning his delight when she snuggled him close, and as Jagger clanked pots to heat the soup and cursed her temperamental microwave, she closed her eyes again, feeling more of that thing called content.
It was nice not to be sick alone.
So very nice.
* * * *
Jagger sat next to Scar on the bed and watched Viv sleep, her chest rising and falling with a slight crackle to her breathing, worrying him. Probably more than was necessary, but he wanted to keep an eye on this flu she had.
He wasn’t taking any chances it could develop into pneumonia. Max had mentioned it was going around while they planned a course of action for this bear-shifter who’d shown up out of nowhere.
He didn’t want to think about who was doing this or why—it was almost too much to wrap his brain around. His people were peaceful, as were most sleuths of bear shifters of any origin unless provoked.
But right now, his concern was Viv, sleeping soundly after some chicken noodle soup and crackers, the steam from the vaporizer he’d brought over puffing out the scent of eucalyptus and mint.
Despite her protests, he thought she was beautiful, and the other night when he’d seen that shifter go for her throat, he’d nearly lost his damn mind—right there in the middle of the woods.
He’d been ready to tear its throat out. Usually, he wasn’t one to back down from confrontation. He was a big guy and he knew it, but he always took those around him into consideration.
However, the other night? He hadn’t given a ripe shit about anything other than Viv and her safety. He’d seen red,
indigo, pink, all the colors of the rainbow flash before his very eyes when the bear had lunged for her throat.
Why is that, Jagger Dubrov? Why have you developed such strong feelings so quickly? You’re not a man given to rash decisions, yet, she’s all you can think of.
Yeah. Why was that?
He smiled when he discovered he didn’t care. He liked Viv. Viv liked him. They weren’t getting married today, but the more he got to know her, the more his mind strayed to the possibility of a future with her.
Scar loved her. He liked most everyone, but he didn’t sleep with just anyone. Yet, he’d climbed up on Viv’s puffy bed, plunked down on the pillows surrounding her and let her rest her cheek on his side like they’d always slept together.
It did something to his chest—something that had distinct emotional properties he wanted to explore.
She moaned in her sleep, sliding her tongue over her lips, making him rise to get her some cold water in case she woke thirsty.
Those lips. Soft, full, tasting of mint and lush strawberries and, when pressed to his, were eyeball-roll worthy. While he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, he couldn’t help but muse over them after that whopper of a kiss they’d shared.
She’d left him harder than anyone before her.
Anyone.
He wanted her—wanted her with an ache he had to fight with jokes and witty banter when what he really wanted to do was tear the clothes from her back and bury himself inside her.
But he could wait.
Making his way back to the bedroom, he saw Scar’s head pop up, the dog as alert as he got for an animal that was so easygoing and challenged, agilely speaking. Jagger held a finger to his lips to keep him quiet when Viv stirred with a sniff.
As he sat back down on the bed and kicked his shoes off, keeping his promise he’d let Scar stay, he lay back, propped a pillow behind his head and closed his eyes.
The scent of the mentholated laced vaporizer filling his nose, the warmth of Viv’s cats piling around his feet, and the sound of her breathing filling his ears, all lulled him off to sleep.
But not before he smiled again at how easy this felt—how complete.
He was content.
And that was nice.
Really nice.
Chapter 9
She’d woken around two in the morning, feeling much better. Hopefully this was just a twenty-four hour thing and she’d be back on her feet in no time. They had a looney-tunes bear to capture. It was no time to lie down on the job.
Waking to find Jagger’s big body stuffed into her small bed like a giant in a Lilliputian’s resting place left her warm all over. His feet hung over the edge of the mattress and his head was tilted at an awkward angle, crushed up against the white headboard.
He’d stayed to take care of her. He’d pampered and fussed and tucked her in.
A thrill shot through her. God, he was a great guy.
She’d slid as quietly as possible from the bed, pulling the covers up over he and Scar, and had gone to grab a shower in order to ease the residual ache of her cold.
Now, she lay next to him once more, her eyes heavy, her heart full.
“You’re awake,” he whispered, deep and thick into the darkness.
“I am.”
“How do you feel?”
“Much better. I took a hot shower to wash away the aches and pains and drank a gallon of water to rehydrate, Dr. Dubrov. I’m fit as a fiddle.”
Jagger sat up on his elbow and smiled down at her when she rolled to face him, curving her head into her forearm. “You look much better.”
“On a scale of one to hideous, what would you rate me?” she teased.
He slid in closer, flattening his arm and laying his head on it. “At least a two.”
“So some residual hideousness?”
Jagger reached out a finger and traced the outline of her lips. “Well, you could have done something with your hair.”
She laughed even as her pulse quickened. “But at least I don’t have morning breath.”
His eyes widened in mock horror as he tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you saying I do?”
Leaning into his palm, she stretched her legs and pointed her toes to keep them from curling. “I’m not saying a thing.”
He trailed his fingers along her cheek and down along the column of her throat. “What happened to the onesie pajamas? They were pretty sexy as onesies go.”
“I decided to keep you guessing by putting on sweats and an old T-shirt.”
“I’ve seen you naked. There is no guessing.”
“I’ve seen you naked now, too, don’t forget.”
“Right. We’re even-steven.”
“Totally,” she said on a sigh when he skimmed the top of her T-shirt, just skirting her breasts.
“So are you sure you’re feeling better?”
“Why do you ask, Dr. Dubrov?”
“Wellll, I was considering using some of my smooth moves on you, but if you still feel crappy, I can restrain myself.”
“It’s the holey sweats, isn’t it? Works every time.”
Jagger inched closer until they were nose to nose, his palm caressing the slope of her hip. “Have you used this wicked sorcery on other suitors?”
Curving into him, Viv bit the inside of her cheek to fight a groan. “Not in a long time. But look at me getting back on the horse.”
His hair brushed her cheek when he pulled her flush to him and nibbled her ear, sending waves of shivers along her arms and tightening her nipples. “It’s true you know. You can teach an old dog new tricks.”
Viv inhaled, her breasts pressing against his chest. “So we’re going to do this?”
Jagger’s head popped up. He looked down at her, his eyes playful. “You mean this?” he asked, his hand slipping beneath her T-shirt and cupping her breast.
Flashes of light screamed from behind her eyes when she had to scrunch them shut at the exquisite pleasure. His hand enveloped her breast almost entirely, his thumb bringing her nipple to a hard peak.
Arching against him, Viv moaned her distress. “I don’t have any condoms.”
“I do, I do!” he cheered in her ear with a chuckle, rubbing his nose along the length of her neck.
Viv gasped, more from the mind-blowing pleasure of his mere touch than anything else. “You bought condoms and our relationship is only what, five days old? You were pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?” she said on a giggle.
His teeth nipped her earlobe and worked their way along her jaw until his face was above hers. “I’m going to kiss the hell out of you now, Vivienne Hathaway. Then I’m going to take all your clothes off and do the same to the rest of you. Every inch of you. If you wish to lodge a complaint, do so now.”
She shuddered against him, her fingers working the buttons on his shirt, popping them open. “Get the condoms out.”
Jagger laughed, digging into his back pocket and throwing his wallet on the nightstand with perfect aim. Then he pointed to his lips. “Here. Your mouth on mine. Now.”
“But I’m sick.”
“You’re worth a runny nose.”
“You say the most romantic things.”
He pointed to his lips again. “Here. Now.”
Viv went willingly to him, planting her lips on his, luxuriating in his hot tongue rasping against hers.
Clothes came off at the speed of light, Jagger tugging at her T-shirt until she was free of the cotton restraint, his fingers gliding along her rib cage, his wide hands wrapping around her waist.
She sighed when he hooked his thumbs into her sweats and slid them along her thighs, grazing the heat between her legs.
Jagger rose from the bed, hoisting Scar up in his strong arms and setting him on a pile of pillows in the corner of the room, ordering him to stay.
Catching her gaze from across the bed, he inched his way out of his jeans and boxer-briefs, making her heart thud in her chest when she finally got a good look a
t his cock—rigid, thick, set between heavily muscled thighs.
And then he was next to her, every part of their bodies touching from head to toe. Their groans were simultaneous as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he slid his under her waist, pulling her tight to him.
His cock rested at the apex of her thighs, the friction against the aching nub of her clit sending waves of delight through her, her skin riddled with delicious goose bumps.
His lips touched hers, pushing them open, delving his tongue deep within her mouth, exploring her thoroughly while they lay flush to one another, absorbing one another’s heat.
Jagger tore his mouth from hers, kissing his way along her jaw, her collarbone, down toward her nipples.
Viv fought a whimper when his mouth captured one, his tongue swiping the tight bud until heat pooled deep between her legs and she bucked against him.
He wasted little time slipping down along her body, his tongue trailing a hot path over her skin until he settled between her legs.
Spreading her flesh, he dragged his tongue over her clit, flattening it, circling it, slipping a finger inside her slick passage.
Fighting back the sting of tears in her eyes, the pleasure so exquisite, Viv drove her hands into his hair, pulling him closer, rolling her hips against his tongue until she saw stars.
Her road to orgasm was swift as her muscles clenched and her thighs shook. It had been a long time since she’d made love, longer still since she’d felt this kind of lust for a man.
Jagger was relentless, slashing at her wet flesh with his hot, delicious tongue until she rocked against him and almost begged him to stop. Sharp and sweet, her climax tore into her, leaving her pulse racing and her breathing ragged.
Tugging weakly on his shoulders, Viv pulled him upward, anxious to touch ever plane, every rigid muscle on his strong body. She curled her fingers into his chest hair, nipping at his neck, letting the taste of his skin linger on her tongue as she, in turn, slid along his body.
As her breasts scraped over his hot flesh, as her hands wrapped around his cock, thick and hard, she sighed. Every inch of Jagger was perfection, from his ripped abs to the sharp, contoured lines of his hips, he was far more than even she had expected.
Moves Like Jagger (Wolf Mates Book 4) Page 8