The Hot One(34)

I swear I can see him nodding and smiling from his apartment in Brooklyn. “Okay, Tyler. I’m getting back in bed right now. Orders of my attorney.”

“Excellent,” I say, then I hang up and coast into the park, cruising past tall trees and fat bushes until I spot a sexy angel stretching near the reservoir.

Holy good morning view.

As the sun rises, I thank the Lord for my eyesight. Hot pink shorts hug her rear today, and I enjoy every second of the view as she practices hamstring lunges with her back to me. My dick likes the view, too, so I adjust myself in my shorts, lest I show up sporting a maypole.

But then again, who the fuck cares if she knows I’m hot for her? Pretty sure she got that memo.

I head over to Delaney.

She turns her head.

And waves.

And smiles.

That smile makes me feel like I can do this. Like I can win her heart again. Mine pounds faster as I near her, and it’s not just because I happen to think she’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen, but because of who she is.

I arrive at her side, and she straightens. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

There’s that awkwardness again, and I want no part of it today. Like the bungee jumper I am, I lean in and dust a quick kiss on her lips. At first, she freezes. That won’t fucking do at all. My tongue darts out, flicking her top lip. A soft breath escapes her, and she gives in. Her sweet lips linger on mine, sending a charge down my spine. My brain leapfrogs ahead, and I picture scooping her up in my arms, carrying her to a quiet little patch of trees, and kissing her till she begs me to take her home.

I want that badly—I want her to beg for it because she’s at her happiest when she’s overcome—but I suspect it’s too soon for her.

Not to mention, screwing in Central Park usually results in a public citation. Public fornicators are never as clandestine as they think they are.

I nibble lightly on her bottom lip for a few seconds, drawing out a throaty murmur from her. Then I somehow find the will to separate.

She blinks. Several times. She sways the slightest bit, like her feet barely touch the ground. Good. I want her to be affected.

She furrows her brow. “I’m sorry, but do we kiss now when we see each other in the park?”

“Evidently we do.”

“Weird. Because I didn’t get that memo.”

I rock on my heels. “Want me to take it back?”

“The kiss or the memo?”

“The memo,” I say matter-of-factly, like this is all so obvious. “You can’t take a kiss back.”

“You sure on that, Nichols?”

“I can try to take back the kiss. Want me to, sweet girl?” I use the term of endearment I once called her. She doesn’t blanch, and that’s a damn good sign.

She smirks. “Be my guest.”

I kiss her once more, like I’m reversing the lip lock, doing it all in rewind, pulling away ever so slowly, ever so softly, leaving her dazed once more.

Perfect.

If she can drive me this crazy, make me this hard, send the temperature in my blood to beyond incendiary, the least I can do is return the favor.

Judging from her reaction, I’m doing it right.

I gesture from her to me. “Like that. I think that’s how you take back a kiss.”

Chuckling, she nods to the running path. “Ready for me to kick your ass?”

Every competitive bone in my body snaps to attention. “We’ll see about that,” I say, then I smack her pink nylon covered behind.

Her eyes widen, saying oh-no-you-didn’t.

But there’s a twinkle in those baby browns that says the lady might like spanking.

That’s new, and it’s most interesting.

I pencil in a new item on my mental to-do list. Find out how much she likes spanking. I never spanked her in college—just wasn’t part of the repertoire. But judging from her response now, I’m more determined than ever to find out everything she likes in and out of bed.

For the first minute of our run, we’re quiet as we find our pace.

A fast one, to be sure. She wasn’t kidding when she said she wanted to beat me. The woman possesses some serious speed. I like it. Keeping up with her is yet another way she challenges me. As that thought takes shape, I realize that’s a key part of why I’m so into her. She always kept me on my toes.

We round the first bend, curving past a cluster of tall maple trees that canopy the path. “So, Delaney. It’s your turn to spill the beans.”

She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “What beans?”

I hold up my hands like I’m kneading dough. “How the hell did you become the woman with magic hands? I had a seriously sore neck from reading contracts, and you worked some wonders on me the other morning,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck.

She shoots me a warm smile. “I’m glad you felt better. Do you get tightness there a lot?”

“Yes,” I say, but before I go into more detail, I realize she’s deflecting. She’s dancing around my question. I don’t follow her lead. “How did it happen?”

She waggles her hands as we jog. “The magic in my hands? Simple. I wished upon a star when I was a little girl. And voilà.”

I roll my eyes, and swat her backside lightly once more. She pretends to yelp.