Sunni
“Is he…um…okay?” My right sneaker bounces on the mat.
The majority of the women have left after our last session. The class was amazing. The knowledge I gained is invaluable, and it was also quite a workout as well. I guess I should say a workout for everyone except the grandmas hot for Jag. I can’t blame them. The man is sex on a stick. Even his movements in the gym screamed of finesse and sex.
“What’s that, Sunni?” Layla gives me her full attention.
“Jag.”
Layla bites down on her bottom lip as if she’s stifling in laughter. When she doesn’t answer, I can’t keep my mouth shut.
“Is he pissed at me?”
She pats my back. “Oh, honey, if I were a betting woman, I’d guess he’s the furthest possible from pissed at you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Madré. Madré.” A chubby toddler blinged out from head to toe with a tutu waving around her waist races up to Layla.
My heart squeezes in a tight vise, threatening to burst into shattered pieces. The little girl’s chubby cheeks and curly black hair make her angelic. The love her mother has for her weakens my knees. I have to get out of here now.
“Hey, Sunni,” Layla calls out.
“Yeah.” I turn to see her with the precious little girl on her hip. “See you next week?”
“Um, sure,” I answer fast. It’s a lie, but I have to get out of here before a panic attack sets in.
“See you then.” Layla waves. Her sweet little girl mimics her mother’s action.
My hand trembles on the metal door handle. I push it open and let the fresh Washington air soothe my face. Inhale. Exhale. It’s what I’ve taught myself to do. It’s the way I survive after everything I’ve been through. I collapse back on the brick wall, focusing on my breathing. My hand covers my heart, rising and falling with each inhale.
My vision begins to blur at the corners. No. No. I refuse to allow my past to control me anymore.
“I didn’t do it,” I whisper over and over again, focusing on each word and the meaning behind them.
“Sunni?”
My eyes fly open to see Jag standing in front of me. He drops his gym bag. I focus on the vibrant teal devil embroidered on his bag instead of looking into his gorgeous, caring eyes.
“Are you okay?” He brings a hand to my cheek. His fingers glide over my skin until he cups my face.
“No.” The truth is out before I can stop it.
“What can I do?” Jag steps closer until his rock-hard chest brushes mine.
“Nothing can fix it.” I squeeze my eyes shut, berating myself for letting this much out.
“Do you not know who I am? Hell, woman, you’ve seen me helicopter the shit out of my dick. I can fix anything. I’m a damn modern-day John Wayne mixed with Hulk.” He leans forward until I feel his lips brush against mine with the next words. “Lay it on me. I got you.”
My core flinches with his lips grazing mine. I suck in a breath, overwhelmed by the sensation. This man. I open my eyes, smile, and let a giggle escape my lips. I grab his forearm and squeeze it.
“I was worried about you last night. I mean, it was entertaining and all.”
“It’s not about me right now. What can I do for you?”
Oh, boy, now is that ever a loaded question. There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell this man I’ve imagined climbing his body while licking and kissing every square inch of him. Not going there. I came to this city to blend in and hide. Being with someone like Jag is as good as being blasted on a flashing billboard.
“I’m good. Just got caught in my own head for a few moments.”
“Liar.”
“Excuse me?” I tilt my head.
“Don’t lie to me, Sunni. It’s one thing I can’t stand.”
I snort and then recover quickly, because this man can never know the layers of lies my life teeters on.
“Bad memories.” I purse my lips. It’s not a lie.
“Tough nut to crack, I see. I like it.” He leans in, presses his lips to mine for the briefest of seconds. A woodsy, leather, and downright sexy scent hugs me. It’s all Jag. I let myself feel safe with his body pressed up against mine. I could get lost in the sensation.
“How about dinner? I’m fucking starving.”
“How could I turn down an invitation like that?”
Jag takes a step back, still eyeing me and waiting for an answer. “They don’t call me prince fucking charming for nothing. I make everyone’s fairytales come to life.”
“Do you ever stop?” I ask, taking a step toward him, and before I know it, we are walking down the sidewalk side by side.
He shrugs. “When I sleep, but I’m still a damn wildcat even then.”
“Jag, you are too much,” I manage to get out between bouts of laughter.
“Pizza, tacos, or steak? Just warning you, though, I can put the food back like a tiger in heat.”
I slap his shoulder. “I know this. Remember I’m your favorite waitress?”
“Good point.”
“Tacos,” I answer.
We walk three more blocks mainly in silence. Jag stops before we enter the hole-in-the-wall restaurant. With his bag slung over his shoulder, he grabs both of my shoulders until I’m facing him.
“Don’t know what that was back there or what you were battling, but know I’m here for you. We’ve all got our own shit we are fighting.”
I nod. The concept is foreign. I can’t remember anyone ever telling me they’ve got my back. This man, who is a mere acquaintance, has no problems and doesn’t even flinch when he tells me.
“Thanks,” I manage to croak out. “Jag, I’m a really broken person. You want honesty, and I’ll give you what I can. I’m running from my past. That’s it.”
What he does next shocks the hell out of me.
“Thank you.” His lips crash to mine. This time it’s not a chaste kiss either. His tongue darts out, trailing along my lips until I open to him. Jag is in complete control, roaming all over in my mouth, lapping me up like I’m a sweet nectar. His hand goes to the back of my neck, gripping it with gentle pressure while deepening the kiss.
A car honks, breaking us apart, and like the words he spoke earlier, his kiss was the same. Nobody has ever kissed me with so much heat, intensity, and passion. I have a feeling Jag is going to destroy the pieces left of me.
I expect him to apologize for the brazen gesture, but he doesn’t. I’d bet Jag doesn’t apologize for much in his life. He turns to walk into the restaurant. I stop him, grabbing his hand and lacing my fingers in his. It takes me a few ticks to muster up the courage to ask him a question. I squeeze his hand and go for it.
“Why were you at the bar last night?” I wait for him to answer. I know there’s a damn good one because I’ve never seen him in there before.
“Bad memories.” Jag raises an eyebrow.
“Well played,” I respond. “Same goes for you. I’m here for you.”
The waves of anxiety roll low in my belly. My head goes warm and fuzzy from the fact I’m putting myself out there. It’s been four years since I escaped my personal hell, vowing to never let anyone else in my life. And I just opened the gates to Jag.
“Aren’t we just a pair of washed-up jock straps?” Jag waggles both eyebrows this time.
I burst out laughing, the tender sound echoing up and down the near vacant street. My stomach aches; my soul flies with the feeling.
I am so screwed.
***
“How in the hell can you possibly want ice cream after shoveling a dozen tacos down?”
Jag pulls the door open to the ice cream shop with a grin from ear to ear. “You know what they say about men with a big appetite, right?”
“Lord, do I even want to know?” I brush my hand across the glass case holding all the ice cream.
He jerks his chin, runs his hand down toward his crotch, then leans in to whisper in my ear. “They have a big appetite.”
Jag’s tongue darts out, tracing the shell of my ear. I shiver, unable to step away from the seductive heat of his mouth. This damn man has brought me back to life over damn tacos and now ice cream.
We are interrupted by an over-exuberant teen before I can respond or Jag can go any further. He straightens, steps behind me, and wraps his arms low around my waist. Jag rests his chin on my shoulder, viewing the ice cream flavors.
“I’ll take three scoops of your Cowboy Crunch in a chocolate-dipped waffle cone.” Jag turns his head, kissing my neck quickly before turning his attention back to the teen. “Oh, and sprinkles, please. Lay it on thick. Don’t pussyfoot around with them.”
The poor girl behind the counter blushes a bright red. Jag has such a way with women it should scare me. He could charm the panties off Hillary Clinton if he put his mind to it.
“And you, ma’am?” The girl brushes at her cheeks.
“Just a regular cone and one scoop of vanilla, please.”
She sets off to making our cones. Jag tugs me back into his chest, his chin still resting on my shoulder.
“Vanilla, eh?”
I spin in his arms, immediately missing our prior position. “There’s nothing wrong with plain vanilla.”
Jag glances down until I follow what he’s looking at. “My dick ain’t getting the memo you’re vanilla, sweet girl.”
“Oh my God, Jag!” I slap my hands over my mouth at the obvious dick imprint pressing through his gym shorts.
“Why I had to pull you to my chest to hide my excitement.” Jag grips my hips, pulling me back to him.
I plant my hands on his hard chest. “What are we doing, Jag?”
“Waiting for our ice cream.”
“You know what I mean.” Without thought, I bring one finger to his jaw and trace its outline.
He shakes his head then licks his lips. “Honestly, I have no idea. All I do know is that last night was as close to rock bottom as I’ve ever been, and you were there.”
“I’m not girlfriend material. Hell, there’s no future with me, Jag.”
“Why?” His eyes flutter shut as my finger continues to trace his sexy jaw.
“Bad memories.”
“I’ve got those too.” His eyes open, revealing his vibrant blue eyes filled with heat and passion. “I’ve heard two negatives end up being a positive.”
“Jag,” his name leaps off my tongue in a breathy fashion, “I can’t be fixed.”
“I’ve always loved a good challenge. Grew up on the wrong side of town and fought day and night to get where I am now. Pretty damn sure I can handle you.”
I shake my head and drop my chin, squeezing my eyes shut. The girl behind the counter hands us our ice cream cones. We don’t delve back into the deep conversation. Words are dying in my mouth. I want to tell him if all of this were happening six years ago, there’d be no doubt a happily ever after would be guaranteed.