The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(56)

He begins to moan as he slams me onto his body, the look on his face one of sheer ecstasy.

I tip my head back as a freight train of an orgasm comes shuddering deep within me.

“Oh fuck,” he cries out as he holds himself deep inside me. I feel the telling jerk as his body empties itself in mine.

His eyes search mine, and in slow motion, he reaches up and cups my face and brings my lips down to his.

We kiss, and it’s slow, tender, and intimate—nothing like the detached version we talked about.

He’s right here with me. I know he is.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips as he pulls me close.

I lie down on his chest and smile against his skin as his arms wrap around me. I can feel his heart beating hard against mine, and I feel so safe and cherished.

I know this is supposed to be friends with benefits. But it’s not . . . it’s more.

What kind of more I just don’t know.

I feel a hand on my behind, and it gives me a sturdy pat. “Come on.”

I screw up my face and roll toward him. “What?”

“Up you get.”

“Huh?” I stretch and open my eyes. The drapes are pulled, and sunshine is beaming through the huge windows. I look around, half-asleep. “What time is it?”

“It’s eight. Get up. We’re going for a run around Central Park.”

“Who is?” I frown. He’s in a towel and freshly showered.

“Me and you.”

I scratch my head in confusion. “You had a shower to go for a run?”

“I smelled like sex.” He smirks as he leans down and kisses me on the lips.

I wrap my arms around him and hold him down.

He pulls from my grip. “Come on.”

“I have no stuff here. What shoes would I wear?”

“What size are you?”

“Eight.”

“Hmm.” He puts his hands on his hips and thinks. “Well, you can wear some of mine.”

“I’ll fall over and break my neck, Jameson.”

“Hmm, okay.” He disappears into the walk-in closet and comes out in black Nike shorts and a blue Nike T-shirt.

I smirk when I see him.

“What?”

“Are you sponsored by Nike today or something?”

He looks down at himself and smiles. “No, it just happens to be comfortable.”

“Like this bed.” I smile sleepily as I snuggle back under the covers.

He sits down to put his shoes on, and I watch him for a moment. “So how does this work?” I ask.

“How does what work?”

“Well . . .” I pause as I try to articulate what I want to say without sounding needy. “I’ve never done this casual thing before.” I shrug shyly. “How do we navigate this? When do we see each other?”

“Well . . .” He bends to tie his shoe. “We just play it by ear, I guess.”

I frown. But what if he didn’t call? I’d be waiting all week. Oh, I don’t like the sound of that. “I think I would prefer set days.”

He frowns. “How many days?”

I shrug. Shit, did that sound clingy? I’ll play it down. “One day a week.”

“I want to see you more than once a week,” he scoffs.

“You do?”

He smiles, knowing exactly what I’m doing. He stands and then leans down and kisses me. “Yes, three times a week.”

I try to hide my smile. “What days?”

“Do we have to have set days?”

“I kind of do.”

“Why?”

I shrug as I twist the blanket between my fingers, embarrassed by my neediness.

He puts his finger under my chin and brings my face to his. “Why, Emily?”

“Because I hate waiting around, and then we know not to plan anything else on our days.”

“Okay.” He puts his hands on his hips. “When do you want to see me?”

“Maybe twice through the week and once on weekends.” I hesitate as I watch for his cues. “But only a few hours each time, of course.”

“No.”

Shit. I’m going too far with my demands here.

“Two full nights through the week and one full night and half a day on the weekend.”

I smile. “Half a day.”

“Yes, starting today. I want my half day this morning.”

“Today? Why today?”

“I’m going to go for a run while you go back to sleep. Then I’m coming home, and we are going to shower, and then I’m making you breakfast.”

I smile softly. That sounds really good.

“And then we’re going to come back to bed, and I’m going to fuck you stupid again to get me through another few days without you.” He cups my face in his hand. “Okay?” he asks.

He’s really quite swoony when he’s being nice. I nod as I try to control my goofy smile.

He closes the drapes and then lays me back down and tucks me in and kisses me softly on my temple. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he whispers.

I close my eyes and smile into my pillow, and I hear him leave the apartment.

I roll onto my back and look up at the fancy ceiling.