Page 16

"Six. Five. Four."

Jagger's thumb grazes my jawline.

Tingles race down my spine.

"Three."

The whole bar surges up around us, arms in the air. Someone's hat sails off into the crowd. Carla shrieks my name from somewhere I can't see anymore, and none of it matters.

"Two."

Jagger's hand slides from my hip to the small of my back and he tugs me against his hard frame.

"One!"

Midnight arrives. Black and gold tinsel falls. The ridiculously sharp blares of kazoos sting my ears. Jagger pins his mouth on mine, and everything else disappears.

He kisses like he talks, unhurried and sure of himself, like he intends to enjoy every second of finding out how right he is. His hand cradles my jaw, tilting my head just enough.

I forget that I know how to stand on my own, fisting the front of his shirt to keep from swaying.

He makes a low sound against my lips before slipping his tongue deeper into my mouth.

I've been kissed before, but never like this. Every nerve in my body buzzes to life. My tongue gets a mind of its own, hungrily kissing him back.

He pulls back only far enough to look at me, and whatever's on my face must satisfy him. His slow, confident grin spreads across his mouth right before he kisses me again, faster this time, one hand splayed warm against my spine.

I reach up, slipping my fingers over his soft hair beneath his hat. He rolls his tongue around mine, and I shudder. My hands move higher, and I accidentally knock his cowboy hat to the ground. I glide my fingers through his hair and grip it, shaking against him.

The bar around us keeps hollering about the new year, glasses clink, somebody's boots stomp the floor. But there's just Jagger's mouth, his hands dominantly holding my head and back, and the fact that my whole body has apparently decided this man is the only thing worth paying attention to for the foreseeable future.

When he finally lifts his head, we're both out of breath. "Well," he says, voice rough, "Fluke or real shot?"

I can't feel my own hands. "Ask me something easier."

"Don't have anything easier. Not anymore." He runs his knuckles down my cheek, and I lean into it before I can stop myself. His grin turns downright wicked. "That's what I thought."

"You're cocky," I say to try and cover up my nerves.

"You keep saying that like it's an insult."

"It is an insult."

"Didn't feel like one two minutes ago."

I open my mouth to argue and don't have an argument, which might be the most unsettling part of this entire night.

Somewhere to my left, Carla lets out a whoop loud enough to turn heads, both hands pressed to her cheeks like she just watched a marriage proposal instead of one kiss at midnight. I shoot her a look that promises retribution. She blows me a kiss back, entirely unapologetic.

Jagger tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, unhurried, like we've got all night and he intends to use every minute of it. "So, here's where I tell you what I actually want, and you get to decide what you're gonna do about it."

The butterflies in my stomach have a bigger party.

He dips his head so it's just me he's talking to, his voice low enough that it doesn't carry past the two of us. "I don't want to hand you back to Carla and spend the rest of the night wondering if I imagined that kiss. I want to get you somewhere quiet. Somewhere it's just us, and I can kiss you again without half the county watching me do it."

Heat climbs up my neck, and his eyes track the color rising in my skin like he's cataloging a win. I manage to get out, "That's a bold thing to say to someone you met a few hours ago."

"I've never claimed to be subtle." His hand finds mine, threading our fingers together, easy, like it's normal. "I have an apartment in town. It's a short walk from here."