Light filters through the water glowing over the sea floor. I swim for a few moments and then I pull up and float on my back, welcoming the warmth of the sun. As my gaze lingers on the sky, a dark thought crosses my mind.

  I could’ve been killed.

  “All good?” Braxton asks, cutting his way to me.

  I straighten, and my feet touch the bottom. Running my hands through my hair, I look away.

  “Yes,” I murmur.

  He stops next to me and grips my shoulder, his eyes reading mine.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get there... One day we’ll swim in deeper waters,” he says, and I glance at him. “How does it feel?” he asks, his fingers trailing my scars.

  “I’m fine,” I say softly.

  His hand curls around my neck.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah... Let’s go back.”

  BRAXTON

  Ibiza, Spain

  Moments later, we put on dry clothes, wrap ourselves in blankets and sit by the fire.

  “The weather is not bad for February,” he mutters, and I give him a side glance.

  Once in a while, I get a glimpse of the old Jagger, especially when he teases me and he’s playful and enjoys the little things, and then this new man comes to life–– guarded, and nostalgic, deeply wounded. And every time I see him, my heart dies a little.

  He keeps his gaze trained on the sea, a dash of light getting caught in his eyes. I shift my focus to the fire, sharing the silence with him.

  “I never thought it would happen to me. It just never crossed my mind,” he mutters with a deep, profound voice, and then breathes out a soft chuckle, slowly shaking his head, looking down.

  I feel him hollow inside as if he’s gone, detached from his body and this life.

  “You should’ve seen the hatred on those people’s faces. It was stupid, senseless, and so hard to watch. So vile, and pointless. It made me sick. That’s something that is hard to forget...” he says, and pauses, his face flushed, his eyes in tears. “I never thought I’d live to see that kind of mayhem. Those images still haunt me. ”

  “You will forget. In time...”

  “Maybe.”

  “You will,” I say, trying to sound reassuring although I grapple with doubt as well.

  He hugs his knees and buries his face in his forearms, and I loop my arm around his shoulders.

  “Things will be okay one day.”

  I lean to him, and hug him tight, kissing his hair, and to my surprise, he doesn’t pull away.

  His hand brushes my arm.

  “I’m hungry,” he says softly.

  Smiling, I tousle his hair and jump up.

  “Let’s get something to eat,” I say, stretching my hand out, helping him up.

  BRAXTON

  Ibiza, Spain

  We spend the evening inside. We eat dinner, and then he puts his headphones on and starts mixing music. A good sign, I muse.

  I start to read, but soon I grow restless, so I set the book on a table and walk outside. The smell of flowers floats through the air, drifting from the backyard. I swipe my phone with my thumb and start typing.

  A message pops up.

  Violet: Have you talked to him?

  Me: Not yet.

  Violet: How is he?

  Me: Better. Worse.

  Violet: Which one?

  Me: Both.

  “Braxton?”

  Jagger’s voice rings out in the house.

  Me: I gotta go.

  I slip my phone in my pocket just as he peeks outside.

  “I’m going to bed,” he says, catching my sneaky motion. “Are you talking to her again?” he throws at me, to my relief amused.

  “Are you pulling my leg, again?” I retort, and he starts laughing. “Why are you going to sleep so early, anyway?”

  “Because I feel like it,” he says, spinning on his heel and heading to the bathroom.

  I take a shower myself, and minutes later walk into the bedroom.

  He’s tucked under the cover, his chest and arms bare.

  “It’s cold.”

  “It’s okay,” he says, and as he lifts his gaze to me, I notice the earbuds in his ears, and hear the soft hum of music.

  It’s little things like this he employs to keep me at a distance, and I can’t blame him. That doesn’t mean I don’t crave to feel him close again.

  I slide under the cover next to him and reach for my phone. His hand comes to mine.

  “I need to talk to you,” he says with a cold voice, and my heart flips.

  It can’t be good.

  He plops the earbuds on the nightstand, and rolls to his side, his arm folded beneath his head, his face to me.

  “I’ve been thinking about this...” he says and pauses, and the blood just drained out of my body. “You shouldn’t wait for me...” he says, serious, his eyes stripped of light, and my heart drops.

  “What are you saying, man?”

  “I know you are… And I know she is too. It’s not fair for any of us. You can be with her without me. You can have a life with her without me,” he says, and I’m already shaking my head.

  “That’s not what I want. And it’s not what she wants either,” I say. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  His lips curl into a sad smile.

  “Yes, there is...”

  “Why don’t you let me choose what I want, then?”

  “Because I love you too much to keep you chained to me.”

  “I’m not chained to you,” I burst out. “You’re a part of me, Jagger. There’s nothing I can do about it. I didn’t choose to be that way. Same way you didn’t choose what happened to you.”

  He stays quiet for a moment, pondering.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Braxton.”

  “Then, fucking don’t.”

  “You’re better off without me.”

  “No, I’m not,” I shout. “These past weeks as bad as they were, they were a gift to me. Even if you drove me crazy, it was still better than being away from you. I found joy in every fucking thing. Even your crappy moods and crippling sadness. Every single smile of yours lifts my spirits, and every time I get a glimpse of your old self, my heart fills with hope. I know we can’t go back, and I know you need time, but no matter how bad it feels, it’s better than being without you. And she’d rather be with you. She misses you and longs for you.”

  Nervous, I run a hand through my hair. His eyes search mine.

  “And just so you know, we’re not fucking...” I say.

  “You’re not?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

  “No, we’re not.”

  “So, what are you doing when you fly to New York?”

  “Same damn thing I do here. She’s sobbing, and I try to comfort her.”

  “I’m not sobbing.”

  “I wish you were,” I say, and he bursts into laughter.

  His eyes brighten, and I smile, realizing how good it feels to be able to laugh at things again.

  “How’s the business?”

  “Good. She’s really good at running it.”

  “Maybe you should move back to New York,” he says.

  “And maybe you should shut up,” I say, and his fingers splay over my lips, trying to silence me.

  I pull back, laughing.

  “So you’re horny as fuck,” he concludes out of nowhere.

  “You think?”

  “That’s why you should’ve––”

  “She won’t let me close to her. The same way you don’t,” I rush to add.

  His smile fades away.

  “It’s not something that I want to do.”

  “I know,” I say and fluff up my pillow, getting ready to roll to my side of the bed and go to sleep. “That’s why I’m not asking for anything from you.”

  “Hey. Wait,” he says softly, his fingers brushing my chest.

  I freeze on my back as he pulls close to me. His eyes lock mine, his lips slowly curling.

  “There’s not much I can give you right now,” he says.

  “I don’t need that much,” I murmur, my gaze dipping to his lips.

  He leans close to me, his fingers sliding up my neck.

  “Only one thing...” I murmur, lost in his eyes.

  He arches an eyebrow, slightly amused.

  “Promise me you’ll talk to her,” I say against his lips.

  He nods.

  “Promise!” I murmur.

  “I promise,” he breathes in me, his lips pressing mine, and a shot of pleasure rams through me.

  Our lips part, and his tongue sweeps mine, and a soft groan rolls off my chest.

  He thrusts his tongue into my mouth, and my erection stirs in my sweatpants.

  “That... is good,” I murmur.

  Another groan crawls up my throat.

  I grab the back of his neck and pull him on top of me, his body strong against mine, his lips crushing mine, his hand slipping down my pants. I twitch in his fist.

  I slip my hand between his legs, and push his sweatpants down, his hard cock springing free. His lips bleed beneath my kiss as he starts grinding into me.

  He deepens the kiss, and pleasure swirls inside me as I feel him hungry, famished like me. I tear away only for a moment and take him in. His eyes swim with arousal, and his lips tremble with pleasure as his thumb presses on my neck.

  “You feel so fucking good... I missed this,” I say, and a haze sets over his eyes.

  “I missed it too.”

  Holding the back of my neck, he locks my lips again, and we deeply connect, tasting each other with reckless abandonment.

  “You make me so fucking happy, Jagger…” I rumble against his lips, my hand wrapped around our cocks.

  His eyes sparkle like a fist of diamonds.

  Tense and hot, he rolls to his back, pulls up slightly and motions to me. I tear the cover off us, and shed my pants, my hard cock jutting in the air. I run my hand on it, getting all warmed up as his gaze dips, his own erection stirring to his abs.

  He kicks his pants off completely, and I slide next to him, one hand wrapping around both of us, the other cuffing his neck. The silky flesh throbs in my hand, our tips wet, as our lips get warm and swollen from our kiss.

  He rolls his hips. And I do too.

  I don’t know what he meant by not being able to give me much. This is way more than I had hoped for, and it tastes so damn good.

  I slide down to his groin, and take him in my mouth, a quiet growl tearing from his chest. I press my tongue against his flesh and passionately suck him. He throbs and moans and grips my hair and I could easily blast my load.

  He thrusts.

  “I love to fuck your mouth,” he says, lost in the moment, sounding like the old him.

  I clamp my mouth on him exerting more pressure, my hand rolling down my cock.

  “Oh fuck, Brax...” he groans, and pleasure sweeps through me as he hits that sweet spot, his cum shooting into my mouth his body arching, his fist finishing the job.

  “Come to me,” he barks, and I position myself on my knees, straddling his chest as he pulls me in his mouth.

  It takes mere seconds before all that tension turns into pleasure and explodes in his mouth. I shoot on his chest and lips, grunting, my chest covered with sweat, my back arching.

  “Oh, fuck... Fuck, Jagger!”

  Moments later, I wrap my arm around his neck and pull him down to me, my back hitting the mattress.

  “I fucking love you, Jagger,” I say, and his eyes turn into a waterfall of light.

  17

  JAGGER

  IBIZA, Spain

  Hovering over him, I take in the beauty streaming in his eyes.

  “I could’ve never done this with anyone else,” I say, and his eyes fill with warmth. “I thought about it so many times, and I wish I had an explanation, but I don’t. And yet, I love… loving you that way. I love your need for me, and feeling you so close to me...” I say, and his hand slides to my neck, his thumb brushing my lips.

  He tilts his head to me, and I lower my mouth, our lips connecting into a soft kiss.

  I tear away, and smiling, I look at him.

  “How is she?” I ask, and he studies me, in silence. “I want to know the truth.”

  “Incomplete. Missing something...” he says.

  I grin.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the best I have.”

  “How do you know? Did she tell you that?”

  He stays quiet, a small smile creeping up his lips. Revelation washes over me.

  “Oh, fucking no… You lied to me.”

  “No, I did not,” he says, unable to suppress his smirk.

  “Yes, you did. How stupid of me to believe you, jerk,” I say jokingly. “You set me up. You wanted me to feel sorry for you and get into bed with you.”

  “No, I did not,” he says raking his fingers through his hair, his lips curling into a sly smile.

  I pinch his cheek.

  “Ouch! Why do you have to do that?”

  He rubs the little coin of stingy red.

  “Why did you say you didn’t fuck her? Of course, you did. Why else would you fly to New York so often?”

  “First off, I have a business to run.”

  “Doug can run the business.”

  “He bought it for me.”

  “Whatever.”

  “And then I had to see if she’s okay.”

  “That’s why you have a phone.”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “Should I be?”

  “No,” he says, serious.

  “She loves you,” I say.

  “She does, but she loves you too, and between the two of us, you are her first love, and it’s not only that. She misses you terribly. I missed you too, despite spending almost every waking hour with you. She thinks you’re still mad at her, and there’s nothing I can say to convince her otherwise. I fed her hope that one day, you’d be fine, and she’d be able to reach out to you.”

  “So, you lied to her too.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Well, you didn’t know if that day would come.”

  “It had to,” he says with conviction.

  “Why’s that?”

  His eyes glint with a rueful smile.

  “Because like a fool I got entangled with you two,” he says. “I can’t let go of you. And I can let go of her, either.”

  I run my fingers over his face.

  “Since when do you lie to me?”

  “I’m not, and I would’ve told you anyway.”

  “You wanted to get laid,” I say with a lighter voice.

  He starts laughing.

  “No. I mean yes, but it’s not what you think.”

  “When do you go to New York?”

  “I promised her I'd be there on Valentine’s day.”

  VIOLET, New York

  “You can put them over there,” I say as the messenger looks for a place to set the huge bouquet of flowers. There’s no room on my desk or the coffee table or the shelves. Vases, small and big, holding colorful floral displays, are scattered all over my office.

  As he strides to the door, I push to my feet and check the latest delivery, looking for a card.

  Nope. Not him.

  I sigh and get back to my desk. My phone hums with a text message.

  Liv: Happy Valentine’s Day!

  Me: Same to you! Where are you?

  Liv: Venice.

  Me: Hmm... Not bad. How’s the honeymoon?

  Liv: Unexpectedly good.

  I start typing and pause, struggling to find my words.

  Me: That’s fantastic. When do you come home?

  I wait for her reply and get none, so I place the phone on the table next to me and shift my focus back to my laptop.

  How ironic. A year ago I started to work at Rapt. I was new to this business, and I didn’t think much of it. I just wanted a different career, something where I could use my creative brain.

  And now I run it. Things do come full circle after all. I left this job once, to live my life, and taste freedom, and fall in love with two men. They’re all gone, and here I am, chained to the desk.

  I’ve replaced Liv, and Jonas, and I ended up doing exactly what I had run away from. To make everything more laughable, Liv and Jonas are now sailing around the world while I sit here at my desk, surrounded by the flowers sent by clients.

  I toss my pen on the desk and stretch in my chair.

  I flip my cell phone and check it again, and then I press the intercom button.

  “Roxane?”

  “Yes?” she says, gasping.

  “Are you working out or something?”

  “Um... I’m not... Well...”

  “Yes?”

  She goes silent for a moment and then I hear a muffled dialogue as if she’s talking to someone and her palm covers the mouthpiece.

  “Roxane?”

  “Yes!!” she answers as if her fingers were plugged into a socket.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you locate Braxton Wellington for me?” I say and release the intercom button.

  I pick up two pieces of chocolate, shove one in my mouth and stride to the window. The rooftops shine red in the sunset. I fold my arms over my chest and look into the distance.

  Planes cross the sky, tiny specks of metal shining against the sun. My mind starts to wander away as memories I hold dear begin to orbit around me.

  It must be warm in Spain.

  The whisper of a rustle rolls in my ears. It’s nothing, I think, and then I sense a presence.

  Not any kind of presence.

  My heart leaps to my throat, my body suddenly warm.

  Slowly uncrossing my arms, I turn around, and for some reason, my gaze drags from the floor up, drifting on a pair of tailored pants, a dark shirt, and a black coat. His hands are tucked in his pockets.

  My mouth drops open, the chocolate melting on my fingers. Imprecisely, my gaze wanders over his face, the light of a soft smile highlighting his features.

  He looks... different. Different good. Mature, bigger, not bulkier, just stronger. His hair catches the light of sunset, his forest eyes sparkling gold. The chocolate is running, and yet I can’t peel my gaze off him.