Dazed (Connections, #2.5)

When I pull onto my street, I see small flickers of light lining the walkway to my front door. I park in the driveway, curious about what they are. When I get out, my heart stops. Cupcakes are on both sides, but not just any cupcakes—Sprinkles black-and-white cupcakes with candles in them. I follow the glow up to my front door where a sign reads, “Alice, I take full responsibility for what happened.”

I enter the house cautiously as my pulse races. His boots are on the mat that he never uses and when I glance up I see his blue quilted vest on the hook. On the first step is a cupcake with a small note—“Eat me.”

I can’t help but giggle—in the movie Alice grows larger than the house when she eats the cake.

One step at a time, I move forward. Once I reach the top I see a bottle of water, and another sign—“Drink me.”

Again I giggle and I don’t care that I do—Alice shrinking so small that she fits perfectly in the house is giggable stuff. He has the eat me and drink me reversed, but I don’t care. I have to find him. I see a glow from under the door to my room and when I open it, he comes into focus. With his arm wedged against the frame, the first thing I see is the upward tilt of his full lips and without a moment of hesitation, I crash my mouth into his. I’ve missed him, everything about him, and if he can forgive me for my actions, I want him back in my life.

He pulls away. Breathless, he asks, “Did you miss me?” like I was on an overnight trip and just got back.

I know I couldn’t possibly love him more than I already do. More tears fall from my eyes and I just don’t care. I trail my fingers over his smooth pale skin flecked with slight stubble, up his sculpted nose, and through his dark brown hair that always looks like he just rolled out of bed. Staring at him, I think: This man is my version of perfect.

“Yes, Jagger Kennedy, I missed you.”

“How much?”

“Very, very much.”

“Are you sure?” he asks with that a smoldering grin that I can’t resist.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I answer.

“Good.”

He places small gentle kisses on my lips, my jaw, my neck. In turn, I kiss his mouth, his stubble, and the spot I marked just a few days ago. Passion and desire pool within me. He pulls away and his eyes sweep me. Then he pulls me to the bed and onto his lap.

“We need to discuss a few things,” he mutters in between his kisses.

“I know,” I answer kissing him back.

“First, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I say my voice breaking on the words.

“Second, I love you.”

I giggle. “Is there a third?”

“Yes, I love you. Do you get it?”

“I get it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Listen, Aerie, I talked to Dahlia and she told me . . .”

He tells me he told Dahlia and River about what happened between us and that Dahlia told him what happened to me after that summer with Levi. I tell him about Madeline, about my call to Brett, about my fears concerning him and his ex-girlfriend, and about my fear of things I can’t control sending me into a state of depression. We talk for almost an hour and he eases my fears. Jagger has a way that calms me.

“Why didn’t you go for your final test today?” I finally ask.

“You know why.”

“I do and I want you to play that role so I got you a second chance.”

He shrugs off my attempt to reschedule his audition, but I insist that when Brett calls him, he go in.

“Shh . . . no more talking about the movie,” he says. Then he slides his hands down my arms to lace in my fingers. “I think we have other things we can talk about.”

“Like what?” I breathe over his lips, my body already flushing in anticipation of what’s to come.

With a sexy smoldering grin, he says, “Tell me what you want.” Even before I answer, his fingers move under my silk blouse and make their way to my breasts.

Without any hesitation I tell him. “I want you to make love to me.”

“What else?” he asks.

“I want you to make me come over and over.”

“I can do that,” he says with an upward tilt of his lips.

Once we’re both naked, his mouth finds my slick flesh and he proceeds to do just that. We spend the night making love. And with our rhythm never faltering . . . we find our own perfect harmony.



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