Page 6

JAGGER

S he thinks she’s in control now?

That’s the girl I fell for. Wild-eyed and stubborn. Fire in her veins and bite in her voice. She could’ve clawed my face off and I still would’ve wanted to taste her again.

Sure, she threw me off last night. Caught me off guard when she flipped the script and walked away with my cock still hard and my pride slightly bruised.

But it was just a moment. A slip. One second where I forgot who the fuck I am.

Maybe, maybe , a small part of me feels guilty. I’ve been so wrapped up in chasing her, in making her pay for running, that I didn’t stop to think how far I’d pushed.

Now she’s out there, fumbling with a rope knot in front of the client she’s so desperate to impress, and I should be enjoying it. Payback for last night.

But instead?

Watching her struggle does something twisted to me. It makes me want to fix it and punish her in the same breath.

She’s trying to fake her way through a bowline knot, pretending she’s got it handled. That stubborn little crease between her brows is back. Her ponytail slips, strands falling into her flushed face, and all I can think about is brushing them away.

Delaney came here to win that client. To prove something. But she’s floundering. I clock the panic building behind her eyes and something sharp twists in my gut.

She won’t ask me for help. I know her too well. She’d rather choke on the rope than admit she’s struggling.

But there’s another game I can play now.

The hero.

The one who steps in. Fixes it. Saves her from herself and makes damn sure she knows exactly who she’s leaning on.

I catch the flash of panic in her eyes the moment her fingers fumble the rope again. The client is watching, taking mental notes that could make or break her career. Everyone else is pretending not to notice, but I can see the quiet satisfaction on Brett's face as he watches her struggle.

I move without thinking, closing the distance between us in three strides.

"Holt. With me," I demand, my voice low.

She jerks at the sound but doesn't budge, pride keeping her rooted in place.

"Now." There's steel in my voice this time, but underneath is something else. Something that says trust me.

She glares. "I'm in the middle of something."

I step closer, dropping my voice even lower. "You want to blow this in front of your client? Or you want to actually get it right?"

That gets through to her.

She follows me behind one of the trucks, her body radiating wounded pride. I don't give her time to build her walls back up. I take the rope from her hands and show her how to tie a clean bowline.

"Watch the loop," I tell her, pushing the rope back into her grip. "You're overthinking it."

"I know how to…" she starts, then catches herself. Her mouth twists as if the words taste bitter, but she swallows whatever cutting remark she was about to make.

Smart kitten.

She tries again. Slowly this time, carefully, without the frantic energy that's been sabotaging her all morning. This time, her fingers move with purpose instead of panic.

This time, she gets it.

Her eyes flick to mine, and I catch that glimmer of satisfaction, the quiet pride that lights up her whole face when she succeeds at something.

"Go. Show them what you can do."

She walks back into the circle with her shoulders square and confidence restored. She ties the knot perfectly and holds it up for inspection. The client nods with genuine approval, and I see Brett's smirk fade into something sour.

She glances my way for just a second, and I catch the shape of her lips forming two words.

Thank you.

I don't nod. Don't smile. Don't give her anything the others might read as favoritism.

But something that's been wound tight in my chest since this morning finally loosens, and for the first time in eleven months, helping her feels more important than punishing her for running away.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of trail work and stolen glances. Every time I catch her looking at me, she turns away fast. But there's something different in her expression now. Less anger, more confusion. Like she's trying to figure out why I helped her instead of letting her fail.

Good. Let her wonder.

By evening, most of the volunteers have retreated to their cabins or gathered around the fire pit, swapping stories and nursing sore muscles. I'm finishing up paperwork in the ranger station when I hear footsteps on the gravel outside.

Delaney appears in the doorway, backlit by the dying light. She's in jeans and a sweater that clings to every curve I've been trying not to think about.

"Can I come in?" she asks.

I lean back in my chair, studying her. "It's a free country."

She steps inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

"I wanted to thank you," she says, staying near the door like she might bolt. "For earlier. With the knot."

"You already did."

"I know, but..." She trails off, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't understand why you helped me. After last night, after everything, I figured you'd want to watch me fail."

I set down my pen and really look at her. There's something fragile in her typically guarded expression, something that makes me want to go easier on her.

"Maybe I did at first," I admit.

"What changed?"

I push back from the desk and stand, watching her tense as I move closer. I stop a few feet away, giving her space to breathe.

"You really want to know?"

She nods.

"Watching you struggle..." I run a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words. "It didn't feel like winning. It felt like watching someone I..." I pause again, the words sticking in my throat. "Someone I give a damn about get hurt."

Her eyes widen at my words.

"I know we're fucked up," I continue, taking another step closer. "I know I've been an ass. But seeing that piece of shit Brett smirk while you struggled... it made me want to fix it. Not for revenge or some twisted game. Just because it was you."

A shaky breath leaves her lips, her posture sagging as if the fight in her is slipping away.

"This is so messed up," she whispers.

That's when I see it. The guilt that's been eating at her, the weight she's been carrying.

"Hey." I close the distance between us, my hands finding her shoulders. "Talk to me. What’s wrong?"

"Everything," she chokes out. "I'm the worst friend in the world. I promised Maya I'd never do this, and here I am, wanting things I have no right to want. Feeling things I swore I wouldn't feel."

The pain in her voice guts me. This fierce woman is falling apart in front of me, and it's because of what's between us. Because of choices I've forced her to make.

"Look at me." I tip her chin up with my fingers. "You're not a bad friend."

"Yes, I am. You don't understand. Maya told me, in high school, girls would pretend to be her friend just to get close to you. It hurt her so badly. She made me promise on our first night as roommates that I'd never, and I swore I wouldn't."

The guilt in her voice is like a knife to my chest. I've been so focused on my own need to claim her that I forgot what this costs her.

"I didn’t plan on falling for you. I fought it. But it still happened,” I admit.

She goes very still, then lets out a bitter laugh. "You didn't fall for me, Jagger. Let's not pretend this is some grand love story. You just want to fuck me."

The accusation hangs between us. She's building her walls back up, trying to make this smaller than it is.

"Is that what you think? You think this is just about getting you into bed?"

"Isn't it?" Her chin lifts. "You've been chasing me, trying to get revenge on me, threatening my career. That's not love, that's obsession."

"You're right. It is obsession." I don't back down from the accusation. "But it's a lot more than just wanting to fuck you, kitten."

Her eyes flash. "I told you not to call me that."

"Why? Because it reminds you that you want this too? That you've been thinking about me just as much as I've been thinking about you?"

Something snaps inside me. All this talking, all this back and forth, when what we both want is right here between us.

I don't give her time to think. Don't give her time to build more walls or find more reasons to run.

I haul her against me, one hand gripping her ass, the other tangled in her hair. Then I kiss her. No, I take her . Staking my claim.

She goes rigid for half a second, hands pushing against my chest in token resistance. But then she melts into me with a soft sound that goes straight to my cock. Her fingers twist in my shirt, pulling me closer even as she tries to fight what's happening.

I back her against the wall, my body caging her in, and she arches into me like she can't help herself.

"Let go," I growl against her mouth, my hands sliding down to her hips. "Stop fighting this. You want me as much as I want you."

"Jagger," she starts to protest, but I cut her off with another kiss, deeper this time, my tongue sliding against hers until she makes that sound again.

Her resistance crumbles. She kisses me back with everything she has.

"That's it, kitten," I groan against her lips. "Stop thinking. Stop feeling guilty. This is just you and me."

My hands find the hem of her sweater, sliding underneath to touch warm, soft skin. She gasps as her back arches off the wall. I take advantage, pushing the fabric up and over her head, tossing it on the floor.

I brush my thumbs over her nipples through the fabric, feeling them harden under my touch.

"You're so fucking beautiful," I growl as I roll her nipples between my fingers.

My hands slide down to the button on her jeans, and she doesn't stop me. I pop the button and drag the zipper down slowly, watching her face as I slip my hand inside her panties. The moment my fingers find her, we both groan.

"Fuck. You're soaked. Exactly as wet as I imagined." I stroke her folds, feeling how ready she is. "I can't believe you kept this from me."

She moans, her hips bucking into my touch as I explore her.

"That's it, kitten. Let me feel how much you want this."

My fingers circle her clit, and she cries out, her hands gripping my shoulders. She's so responsive, so perfect, grinding against my hand. We're past the point of no return now. No going back. Delaney Holt is mine, and she's finally going to admit it.

"This is mine," I say against her throat, my fingers working her slick heat. "This pussy belongs to me. Say it."

She whimpers, her hips grinding against my hand desperately. "I can't."

"You can and you will." I slide two fingers deep inside her, feeling her clench around me. "You've been keeping what's mine from me for too long, kitten."

Her head falls back against the wall, a broken moan escaping her lips. "Jagger, please."

"Please what? Please make you come? Please fuck you the way you've been dreaming about?" My thumb presses her clit with just enough pressure to make her shake. "Tell me this is mine and I'll give you everything you want."

She's trembling now, on the edge. "It's yours," she gasps. "Fuck, it's yours."

"That's my good little kitten," I say, my fingers moving faster. "You're mine. All of you."

Her breathing turns to desperate little pants as her cunt tightens around my hand.

"Come for me," I command. "Come on my fingers like the good little kitten you are."

Her mouth falls open in a silent cry, and I can feel her starting to shatter.

Then her phone rings, cutting through the moment. Not just any ringtone. A specific song. Taylor Swift's voice filling the small space.

She freezes in my arms, her eyes going wide with panic.

"Ignore it," I tell her, my mouth moving to her neck, trying to pull her back into the moment. "Whatever it is can wait."

But she's already pulling away, reaching for the phone in her pocket. The name on the screen makes my stomach drop.

Maya.

"No. No. We can’t do this," she says, her voice shaky.

I catch her wrist, holding her gaze. "Yes, we can. This is you and me. We'll deal with everything else later."

The phone keeps ringing, Maya's contact photo smiling up at us from the screen. Delaney looks between me and the phone.

"I can't," she whispers, and I can see the guilt flooding back in, washing away everything we just shared. "I can't do this to her."

She pulls free from my grip, zipping her jeans, grabbing her sweater from the floor and clutching it to her chest like armor.

"Don't leave," I say.

But she's already dressed and at the door, disappearing into the night.

Fuck.

She's running again.

And this time, I'm not sure I can catch her.