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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Jigsaw

Physically, I’m wrecked. Running on fumes. But everything else? Wired. Buzzing with the need to get home. To see Margot.

So desperate to touch her, I dropped a fuck-ton of cash on the next first-class flight out.

Don’t think I’ve ever wanted to see someone so bad in my life.

Every muscle in my body strains, silently begging the plane to move faster.

Even the extra legroom in first class isn’t enough—still feels like a cage, leaving me cramped, twitchy, and ready to crawl out of my skin.

Six goddamn hours of white-knuckling the armrest and trying not to throttle the chatterbox next to me who won’t shut the fuck up about how much he won in Vegas.

I bet I won more.

Teller was sure Griff would take it in the third, so I put that porn money I’ve been earning from the club to good use.

Pretty sure I’m going car shopping the second I get home.

“Good afternoon and welcome to Empire, New York. The weather?—”

Thank fuck.

I blow out a long breath and gather my shit. Phone, earbuds, backpack. Shoulder’s stiff, back’s aching, but I’m moving like someone lit a fire under my ass.

Could’ve hugged the annoying fuck next to me when he stepped back and let me grab my shit out of the overhead compartment first.

The second my boots hit the jet bridge, I’m already reaching for my phone. No new texts from Margot, but that’s fine. I can see where she is on my phone.

Right where she’s supposed to be.

Where I’m headed now.

There.

On the other side of the security gate.

The second my gaze lands on Margot, I’m done. Absolutely feral to get my hands on her.

No more. I can’t be away from her this long again. I can barely function like a normal human.

She’s wearing a black long-sleeved shirt underneath a black-and-pink plaid dress. The dress is tight up top, showing off her perfect breasts, but the skirt’s loose and flowy, only hinting at her curves underneath. Her shiny black heels give her a little height.

I throw my bags on the floor and scoop her up into my arms immediately.

She lets out a happy squeak of surprise and throws her arms around my neck. “Welcome home!”

I answer by smashing my lips against hers.

“Oh,” she sighs and melts into my body.

“I missed you.” I pull away long enough to look into her eyes. “I don’t want to be away from you again that long.”

“I missed you too.” She slides down my body and I release her. “How’s your leg?”

Fuck my leg. Did she hear what I said? “Fine.”

“Good.” She loops her arms around my neck again, inviting me to pick her up.

Fuck yes. I lift her and seal my mouth over hers, licking at the seam of her lips, sucking on her tongue. She tastes like mint and something sweeter.

Home.

A few nervous, awkward chuckles ripple past us. Someone mutters, “Get a room.”

Don’t care.

She pulls back, her gaze darting to the side. “Let’s go,” she says against my lips. “Before security grabs us for a pat down.”

I follow her line of sight to two airport security agents, watching us with too much interest. Nosy fucks. I snarl in their direction, then pick up my bags, curl my hand around hers and start marching for the exit.

“Where’d you park?” I ask.

Her heels click over the concrete as she hurries to keep up with me. “Straight through here. In short-term parking.”

“Good.”

Once we’re in my truck and out of the garage, she flicks the blinker on. I reach over and tap her leg. “Go right.”

“Okay.”

“Here.” I point straight ahead. “Turn left at the next light.”

“What?” She laughs. “Why?”

“I can’t wait until we get to your place.”

She peers out the window. “This is a hotel.”

Smart woman. “Exactly.”

“Jigsaw, we don’t need to waste money on a hotel. We’re an hour from my house.”

“I told you, I can’t wait that long. It’s not a waste.”

“But—”

“Margot.” I angle my body toward her. “I won enough money on the fight. We can afford a hotel room for one night.”

She throws me a sidelong glance, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Okay.”

That’s more like it.

We’re like newlyweds in some dipshit rom-com, holding hands and half-running into the hotel lobby. And I don’t even care.

Margot blushes and won’t look at the woman behind the counter who takes my credit card and slides two keycards across the desk.

“Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Killgore.”

I like the way that sounds too much to bother correcting her.

MARGOT

I can’t believe we’re actually in a hotel.

Just to... have sex? In the afternoon?

It feels so illicit. Wild. Maybe a little impractical.

I’m mortified checking in with no luggage, just my purse swinging from my shoulder like a neon announcement— just here to fuck!

The elevator doors whisper shut, and Jigsaw crowds me against the wall, cupping my cheeks and sealing his mouth over mine. His lips are hot, insistent, impatient. I melt into him without hesitation.

Someone clears their throat.

Jigsaw growls low in his chest but peels himself away, straightening without even glancing back at our unwanted audience. He curls his hand around mine, protective and reassuring.

The elevator dings.

My pulse skips as he tugs me into the hallway, his grip firm around my hand.

A rush of excitement floods through me.

Outside the room, he pins me to the door with his entire body, heat radiating off him like a furnace. I try to slide the card into the reader, but there’s no space between us. I’m plastered to the door—flushed, breathless, burning.

Finally the lock beeps and we stumble into the room.

I barely manage to step out of my shoes before he grabs me under the thighs and lifts me, setting me on something solid—maybe the dresser, maybe a table, I don’t care. His mouth never leaves mine. His hands are everywhere, shoving up my dress, fingers ripping my tights.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs, kissing my jaw, my cheekbone, the hollow under my ear. “But these—” he hooks a finger in the ruined nylon, and yanks hard, “—these are in my way.”

The rough tug rips them even more.

His hips thrust against me, hard and frantic, not close to being inside me, but desperate. He groans against my throat, the sound low, needy, and close to a whimper.

“Awww,” I trace my fingers over his cheek, “you’re like a puppy who hasn’t been taken for a walk all week.”

“Puppy. No.” He growls, forehead pressed to my temple, hips grinding in a frantic rhythm. “I’m a man who hasn’t been inside his woman in a week.” He brushes his lips over my cheek. “Why aren’t you helping me get these fucking panties off?” His fingers close around the elastic and he yanks hard.

Using his shoulders for leverage, I lift my hips, giving him room to drag my underwear and what’s left of my tights down my legs. The tension in his muscles, the heat rolling off him, the impatient way he shoves the fabric down my legs leaves me desperate.

He breathes a satisfied sigh. “Finally.”

“If I’d known they were going to cause you so much trouble, I wouldn’t have worn them.”

I grab his belt buckle and work it loose, fingers fumbling against the metal.

His eyes flare, mouth curling into a slow, wicked smile. “You want me just as much.”

“Of course I do.” I press kisses to his chest, flick my tongue against one nipple.

He groans—loud, guttural, grateful.

“Come here.” He hauls me off the dresser and spins me around where I’m facing a mirror, already smudged from me leaning up against it. I stare at my wild hair, reddened lips, and flushed face. I barely recognize myself.

Behind me, Jigsaw kicks off his boots and shoves his jeans down.

“Fuck.”

“In my purse,” I manage to whisper. If I move, I’ll collapse. My legs are liquid.

He bends, grabs my purse off the floor, and rifles through it.

“Inner pocket,” I gasp.

He yanks out an embarrassingly long strip of condoms I’d grabbed at the last minute on my way to meet him.

“Margot?” He dangles the strip in the air and arches a brow.

“I thought…maybe we’d stop and play in the back seat of your car or something.” I grin at him, not even a little bit sorry to reveal that. “Not go to a hotel.”

Laughing, he tears into one with his teeth and, watching me in the mirror, rolls it on. “I fucking love you.”

He drops my heels next to me. “Put those back on for me.”

I wiggle my feet into the shoes.

Heat shoots to my core as he flips my dress up and slowly pushes inside me. His eyes close and he throws his head back. His fingers tighten on my hip. “Fuuuck, told you how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

“Oh my God.” Now I’m the one whimpering. I rest my cheek on the dresser and arch my back to accept more of him.

“You okay?” he asks, hips pressing forward again, slower this time.

“I’m very…full.” I gasp. “Please don’t stop.”

A shiver travels over his body, as if he’s holding back from pounding into me.

“More,” I whisper.

He slides one hand around my hip between my legs and strokes my clit. My heart thunders.

I squeeze my inner muscles around him.

He pushes deeper, rolls his fingers over my clit over and over, amplifying my pleasure. Finally he thrusts harder. Moves faster.

“Yes,” I encourage, praying he won’t slow down again.

Fingers tugging and pulling at the zipper of my dress, he finally drags it all the way down and shoves my shirt up, skimming his fingers along my spine.

Heat races over my skin, radiating out in waves. My knees threaten to buckle.

He drives into me harder, slamming the dresser into the wall with a steady thump.

He grips my hips again, digging in, quickening his thrusts.

I spasm and clench around him.

Pleasure barrels down on me, fast and brutal. I cry out, sharp and broken, not even caring if the whole hotel hears us.

“Ah, fuck.” He comes with a groan, shuddering through his release.

After a heartbeat, he collapses on top of me, pressing me against the dresser, covering my hands with his. “Thank you.”

He kisses along my spine, then slips out of me.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m wrecked.” I kick my shoes off. “Can’t move. I live here now.”

He chuckles and pats my behind as he steps into the bathroom.