I hand him back his water, throwing him a look of indulgence. A look that says, “all that casual sex?” and he lets me go to take a drink. He empties it and throws it in a nearby trash can, impressed he met his own bullseye. That juvenile boy inside fist pumping at his ability to dunk a plastic bottle.
“Do you really want me to learn how to beat you up, Jake?” I smile cheekily, watching him with amusement.
“Carino. Even if you became a pro boxer, I would still put you on your ass. You’re half my weight class.” He smirks and squeezes my shoulder lightly.
“I don’t even know what that means.” I stop, leaning back to stretch out my limbs and start jogging on the spot to signal I’m recovered enough to continue. He pulls my hood further forward over my face and shoves me in front of him playfully, so that I’ll lead.
“It means that you’ll never be able to beat my ass, girly.” He laughs with a huskiness that is a little too alluring.
“Don’t tempt me,” I warn.
“I like a challenge.”
“Well if beating is what you’re into?” I catch the cheeky glint in his eye and sucker punch him in the ribs playfully before he can finish his sentence. He pushes me away and tries to trip me deliberately, catching my wrists so I don’t fall, and he receives a pout and glare. He rights me on my feet with a laugh and we set off again.
He’s in a childish mood this afternoon … Great! That’s all I need. It’s seriously his worst mode.
We jog on in silence for two blocks before we round a corner and head in a new direction. I take in the unfamiliar streets and surrounding scenery; Seattle seems lower paced and more relaxed than New York but it hasn’t got the same buzzing energy and I kind of like it. It’s a welcome break in our hectic schedule lately.
“What are you thinking about, Miele?” his voice cuts into my thoughts. Jake’s looking at me as we run, and he has to keep pushing his hood back at the side to see my face, the gesture makes him look childish and I smile warmly.
“Wondering where I would dump your body if I beat you to death.” It’s a smug retort.
“It’s like that, is it?” he grins.
“Yep.”
I’m not prepared for the sudden lurch at me as he grabs me by the waist and tips me upside down in mid-air. With his muscles, I’m no more than a gym bag in weight and I squeal in surprise and choke on the sharp intake of breath. He tips me completely over onto my feet so that I’m still bent double but in a head lock, my butt facing away from him with my head against his abdomen. I’m squealing and trying to wrench myself free as he keeps walking, but I’m stumbling backward.
laughing stupidly and unable to fight as he has my arms pinned to my
for a shady corner so I can administer some much-needed discipline.” He threatens, but he has a playfulness in his voice. He finally releases me and hauls me back up, pulling me against him with an arm around my shoulders and drags me onward. My hood falls free, letting the soft rain cool my heated face while breathless from his antics and disheveled from
could haul your ass through the courts.” I point out. Laughing hard as
smirks and winks and I shake my head at him and try to pull my clothes back into their rightful place within the confines
the staff then!” I snort, unable to stop giggling as he’s
“Where are we going?”
… I’m bored at
you ignoring my suggestion?” I
“About manhandling my staff?”
“Yes.”
I fight the urge to sucker punch him again. I pull myself free from his grip and shove his arm off so I can finally adjust my clothes properly. He has them all twisted around me and
anyway.” He offers by way of an explanation and tosses the
I sulk. “I don’t have
makes
leave it loose then, won’t you?” He ruffles my hair, trailing his fingers through the length and down
Sometimes I seriously can’t understand why I work for you, or that you even run an empire.” Watching him now, he’s far removed from Mr. Business, or even
and tugs me closer by the hood so I’m within reach of his arm and puts it back around my shoulders. Only this time it’s loose and casual, and my clothes stay neat and in place.
It would bother me if it was anyone
touches me without intent. There’s no threat, or ulterior motive. In the way that a child touches automatically because they want to,
just how he is. Saying that, however, he’s a constant
boundaries, that
distracted.” His voice is subdued suddenly. I appraise his expression as he seems distracted, even with his hood still up,
sue that
real idea of where we’re going, and it’s stopped raining. The sun peeks out between the dull clouds, threatening
relax for a week.” He’s looking around, seemingly