He stretches some more. “Please do.”
“Why does your back get so tight?”
He sits back down. “When I get wound up, my back tightens.”
“What else happens when you get wound up?”
He chews his food as if contemplating his answer. “My temper gets the best of me.”
I smile broadly.
“What?” He smirks.
“All this time I thought you were an asshole, when really you were just stressed out?”
He chuckles. “And what’s your excuse for being a bitch?”
I sip my wine. “Nothing. I really am just a bitch.”
He holds his glass up to clink it with mine. His eyes have a tender glow to them.
“Thank you for dinner. It’s delicious.” He leans over and kisses me. “Like you.”
I remember something. “Oh, and you will be pleased to know, I brought my workout gear so I can come running in the morning.”
“You did?” he asks in surprise.
“Uh-huh.”
“I run fast.”
“Good, because I walk slow.”
A few hours later we both laugh out loud into the darkness.
“You did not,” he says.
I giggle. “Uh-huh.” It’s late, and we are lying in bed, facing each other, and talking after making love.
“What on earth?” He rubs his hand up over my stomach and then breast as he listens. His face is alight with mischief. “How?”
“Well . . .” I think for a moment. “It was my first car, and I’d only had it a week. I was driving with my friend, and the day was as hot as hell. We were on our way to buy some cheap jeans from a market, and the temperature gauge started overheating.”
He smiles as he listens.
“We pulled into a service station, and I called my dad, and he told me to put oil in it.” I shrug. “But we didn’t know where the oil went, so we assumed it went in the little hole that you measure it from.”
“The dipstick?” he gasps in disbelief. “How on earth did you get it in there?”
I laugh. This is the most ridiculous story I ever heard of. “We borrowed a funnel and then poured it in, and it overflowed everywhere.” I shake my head as I remember it as clear as day. “We thought it was fine and started driving, and then oil we’d spilled on the engine caught on fire.”
His eyes widen. “What happened?”
“My beloved five-hundred-dollar car that I saved up for a year for was frigging totaled in just one week; that’s what happened.”
We both laugh and then eventually fall silent.
I lean onto my elbow as I look over at the gorgeous naked man beside me. “You must have done something stupid in your life, Jameson Miles.”
He smiles softly over at me in the darkness. “Yeah. I have.”
“What?” I smirk.
He reaches over and cups my face in his hand, and his thumb dusts over my bottom lip. “I never asked for your number.”
Chapter 14
“Will you hurry up, woman?” Jameson calls from his running position up in front.
I’m panting for dear life as I try to keep up. Oh hell, he’s trying to kill me.
“What’s the rush?”
He turns around and runs back to me.
I frown as I watch him. “God, you’re so perky and energetic in the morning.”
He laughs and sprints off as I keep shuffling along. I watch him do a loop so that he can still see me, and then he sprints back.
“How do you run so fast?”
He jogs backward in front of me as we talk. “Well, what I do is I imagine someone is chasing me with an ax.” He’s hardly even out of breath.
“What?” I frown. “Are you kidding me?”
He shakes his head with a cheeky grin.
“Your relaxation tool is to imagine someone is chasing you with a fucking ax.”
He laughs as he jogs backward. “It works. I run much faster that way.”
“This is all making sense now,” I puff. “The puzzle is falling into place here.”
“What puzzle?”
“Your back is tight because your masseuse continually puts it out so she can fuck you again.”
He grins.
“Your relaxation exercise is to be chased by an ax murderer.”
He laughs.
“And you go out seven nights a week. No wonder you’re stressed out, you crazy bastard.”
He pulls me to him by my T-shirt and kisses me on the lips. “Lucky I have you to fuck me calm, then, isn’t it?”