Текст книги "This Man"

Автор книги: Jodi Ellen Malpas

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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

Chapter 29

 

The gates to Lusso slowly shift open and Jesse pulls in, parking the car swiftly and accurately. He wastes no time collecting me from my side of the car and dragging me through the foyer towards the elevator.

‘Evening, Clive.’ I call as I’m hauled past and stuffed into the penthouse lift. ‘Are you in a rush?’

‘Yes.’ he answers decisively, punching in his code. The doors of the elevator close and I’m swiftly thrust up against the mirrored wall. ‘You owe me an apology fuck.’ he growls, attacking my mouth.

What the hell is an apology fuck, and why do I owe him one? I could make a list as long as my arm of all the apologies he owes me. I can’t think of anything that I should be apologising for.

‘What’s an apology fuck?’ I pant as he thrusts his knee between my thighs, moving his mouth to my ear.

‘It involves your mouth.’

I shake off a tremble as he pushes himself away from me, leaving me a raging bag of hormones, panting and holding myself up by leaning against the wall.

He steps back until his back meets the opposite wall of the elevator, his hooded eyes watching me closely as he removes his t-shirt and begins working the button fly of his jeans. My lips part to allow air into my lungs as I wait for instruction. I’m a quivering mess. He’s perfection incarnate, every sharp muscle flexing and rippling with his movement.

His jeans gape open, revealing his mass of hair, his erection falling out into his waiting palm. He isn’t wearing boxers. No obstruction. I flick my eyes up to his, but he’s looking down, observing himself.

I follow his eyes with my own and watch as he draws long, slow strokes over his arousal, his breath hitching slightly on each draw. Seeing him work himself has pins and needles stabbing at my groin and my body temperature swiftly rising. Good God, he is way past perfect. My gaze travels back up his body, finding the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen. His stomach muscles are tense, his eyes hooded and lust filled, and that full bottom lip is parted and moist. He’s staring at me now, carefully watching me from across the elevator.

‘Come here,’ His voice is hoarse, his sludgy eyes dark. I walk slowly towards him. ‘On your knees.’

I steady my breathing and slowly lower myself to the floor, sliding my hands down the front of his tight thighs, maintaining our eye connection as I do. He looks down at me, his arousal still being worked slowly in his hand. I’m absolutely transfixed on this beautiful man looming over me, working himself. He uses his free hand to caress the side of my face as he pants short, strained breaths through his parted lips. He taps my cheek with his middle finger.

‘Open.’ he orders. I part my lips, running my hands around the back of his legs to grip the tops of his thighs as he strokes the side of my face in approval and positions himself at my lips. ‘You’ll take it all the way, and I’m going to come in your mouth,’ He runs his moist head over my bottom lip, and my tongue darts out to lap up the bead of creamy cum escaping. ‘You’ll swallow.’

My stomach twists, my breath catching in my throat as he rears back and slowly plunges into my mouth. I watch as he squeezes his eyes shut, clenching his jaw so hard, I think he could burst a vein in his temple. I tighten my grip on the back of his thighs and pull him forward.

‘Fuuuuuck!’ he grates through his gritted teeth.  His fist is still wrapped around the base, preventing me from taking him all the way. He moves his other hand to the back of my head as he stills, drawing urgent breaths. I can feel the pressure he’s applying to his thick length, no doubt to prevent himself from climaxing immediately.

After a few moments, he’s regained his composure, and he slowly peels his hand away from his base, placing it on the back of my head to join the other. I watch him puff out a few hard breaths. He’s psyching himself up. I better make this good then.

I draw my mouth back and wickedly skate my hand around to the front of his thigh and between his legs to glide under his heavy sacks. His grasp on my head tightens as he moans a prayer to the ceiling, his hips shaking. He’s fighting to keep control.

Lightly, I trace the tip of my finger, back and forth, over the seam of his sack. I watch as the cords in his neck tighten to snapping point. I’m enjoying this. He’s defenseless, vulnerable and I’m in total control. Despite his earlier demands to kneel and open he’s at my complete mercy. It makes a nice change, and I’m not ignorant to the fact that I want to please him.

I’m dimly aware of the elevator doors opening, but I ignore it. I’m completely engrossed in what I’m doing to him. Moving my hand to his base, I hold him firm as I run my tongue over his tip and plant a soft kiss on the end. I look up and see him lower his head, searching for my eyes. When he finds them, he begins working slow circles with his hands in my hair as I lap at his entire length, paying special attention to the underside and taking immense pleasure when he jerks a few times, pushing rapid bursts of air through his teeth.

He watches me, refusing to close his eyes and determined to see me work him, as I trail the entire length of him, pushing the tip of my tongue into the slit when I reach his broad head. He gives me that roguish grin, but I wipe it from his face and knock the air clean out of his lungs when I return my hand to the back on his thigh and yank him forward into my mouth.

‘Oh Jesus, Ava!’ he barks.

I can feel him brushing the back of my throat, and it takes every effort not to retch at the invasion. He feels so thick in my mouth. I start to retreat, but he knocks the wind out of me by thrusting back in, robbing me of breath. His fingers curl in my hair as he slowly withdraws and drives forward again, letting out a long moan of pure pleasure. Any illusion I was under of me being in control are long forgotten. He knows what he wants and how he wants it. Yet again, he has the power.

‘You have a fucking incredible mouth, Ava.’ He surges forward again, holding me in place with his strong hands, but calmly caressing and stroking my hair at the same time. ‘I’ve wanted to fuck it since I laid eyes on you.’

I’m not sure if I should be offended or delighted by that statement. So, instead of pondering it, I un-sheath my teeth and drag them over his taut skin as he withdraws.

‘Christ, Ava. Take it deep.’ he shouts, powering forward again. ‘Relax your jaw.’

I close my eyes and absorb his assault on my mouth. If it wasn’t so damn erotic, it would be pretty brutal. He’s aggressive with his power but tender with his hands. He’s in complete control.

After a few more incredible strikes, I feel him swell and pulsate in my mouth. I know he’s tipping the edge. One of his hands moves from my head to the base on his length, and he withdraws slightly, taking a firm grip, working back and forth urgently. I circle, lap and suck his swelling head as he sucks in a sharp, short breaths.

‘In your mouth, Ava.’ he yells, and I take his cue, wrapping my lips around his jerking erection and placing my hand over his as he spills hot, creamy cum into my mouth. I take it – all of it. I swallow around him, glancing up to see his head thrown back as he yells into thin air, a throaty cry of satisfaction. His hips slow their thrusts to a more level, lazy pace as he rides out his climax. I lick and suck the tension away. My debt is settled.

His chest is heaving as he looks down at me with a foggy, green gaze. He bends to drag me up his body, smothering my lips with his in a complete appreciation kiss. ‘You’re amazing. I’m keeping you forever.’ he informs me, showering my face with kisses.

‘That’s nice to know.’ I flip sarcastically.

‘Don’t try and pull a hurt with me, lady.’ He rests his forehead against mine. ‘You left me high and dry this morning.’ he says quietly.

Oh, I’m apologising for leaving him hanging. That makes perfect sense, but how will he repay me for all of his transgressions? What I’ve just sustained should repulse me, but it doesn’t. I’d do anything for him.

I lift my arms and rest my palms on his chest, smoothing over his toned pecs. ‘I apologise.’ I murmur, leaning in to rest my lips over his nipple.

‘You have lace on.’ He wraps his arms tightly around me. ‘I love you in lace.’ I’m lifted, my legs automatically curling around his narrow waist. He scoops up my bags and his t-shirt and carries me out of the lift.

‘Why lace?’ I ask. He always insists on it. And it’s yet something else I do to please him.

‘I don’t know, but always wear lace. Keys, back pocket.’

I reach under his arm, feeling in his pocket to drag his keys out before he turns slightly to give me access to the door. It’s soon kicked open and closed again. He throws my bags down and carries me all the way upstairs. I could get so use to this. He hoofs me about like I’m little more than a t-shirt on his back. I feel weightless and completely safe.

He places me on my feet. ‘I’m taking you to bed now.’ he whispers softly.

My ears are suddenly invaded by the low sounds of Massive Attack’s Angel. My body goes rigid. This is music to make love to. I start burning up as he slowly starts undressing me, his soft, green eyes remaining locked with mine.

The diversity of this man staggers me completely. This man is a brutal, demanding sex Lord in one breath, and a tender, gentle lover in the next. I love all elements of him, every single one. Well, almost every single one.

‘Why do you try to control me?’ I ask. It’s the only element of him that I’m struggling to deal with. He’s beyond unreasonable. But you don’t hear me complaining in the bedroom.

He pushes my shirt from my shoulders and down my arms. ‘I don’t know.’ he says on a frown. His perplexed expression has me believing that he really doesn’t, which is of no help to me in trying to understand why he’s like this with me. He’s known me for a few weeks. It’s crazy behavior. ‘It just feels like the right thing to do.’ He offers the explanation like it should explain everything. It doesn’t in the slightest.

I’m still none the wiser, you crazy man!

He unfastens the zipper of my trousers and slides them down my thighs, lifting me out of them and leaving me standing before him in my underwear. He stands back and takes a good look at me as he removes his shoes and jeans, kicking them off to the side.

He’s hard again. I run my appreciative eyes over his loveliness, finishing back at his sludgy pools. He’s like a science project of perfection – God’s masterpiece; my masterpiece. I want him to be just mine.

He reaches across to me and pulls the cups of my bra down, one at a time, brushing the back of his hand over each of my nipples, hardening them further.  My breath skips, and he flicks his gaze to mine.

‘You make me crazy.’ he says, completely expressionless. I want to scream at him for being so thick skinned. He keeps saying this.

‘No, you make me crazy.’ My voice is a breathy whisper. I mentally plead for him to acknowledge that he’s an unreasonable control freak. He can’t believe this is normal behavior.

His lips curve, his eyes twinkle. ‘Crazy.’ he mouths.

I’m lifted against his chest and laid on the bed, his body spreading down the length of mine. Once he’s swathed me, his mouth lowers and his lips take me worshipfully, softly working their way over me, his tongue sweeping through my mouth slowly.

Oh God. I love you. I could weep at this moment. Should I tell him how I feel?  Why can’t I just spit the words out? After today and his performances, you would think I would be scarpering, running as fast and as far as I can. I can’t, I just can’t do it.

I feel my knickers being drawn down my legs, my thoughts well and truly scattered when he shifts his body up to sit on his heels, pulling me up to straddle his waiting lap. He reaches under us and positions himself at my opening.

‘Lean back on your hands.’ he orders softly, his voice like gravel, his eyes intense. I lean back, his spare arm wrapping under my waist to support me.

He enters me slowly on a rush of air, his lips parted and moist. I moan in pure, delighted pleasure as he fills me completely. My arms shift a little, and I lock my legs around his waist. He feels so good inside me. I could die now a very happy woman. His other hand joins the one wrapped around my waist, his big hands nearly encompassing me, as he starts directing my hips around in slow, grinding circles, lifting me up slowly before pulling me back down and swiveling again. He’s working us in perfect time to the music. Christ, he’s good. I sigh, long and breathy at the exquisite sensations he’s creating as he lifts, pulls me back down and circles, his own hips following the movements that he has complete control over.

‘Where have you been all my life, Ava?’ he moans on a long, grinding circle.

Growing up! The unwelcome thought reminds me of my lack of knowledge with regards to his age. If I asked him at the height of pleasure, would he answer truthfully? I’m in love with a man and I have no idea how old he is. How ridiculous.

I gasp as I’m lifted and lowered again, the shimmer of a slow building, highly satisfying climax beginning to gather force. I’m hypnotised by him – completely rapt as I watch his face burning with passion, his chest muscles undulating as he guides my body on his. This is slow, meticulous love making, and it’s doing me no favours with regards to my feelings for him – none whatsoever. I’m as addicted to gentle Jesse as I am to dominant Jesse. I’m at a total loss.

His tongue sweeps across his moist bottom lip and his eyes flicker, his frown line working its way across his brow. ‘Promise me something.’ His voice is soft as he swivels his hips on another mind-numbing grind.

I moan. He’s taking advantage of my mesmerised state by asking me to make promises now. But then again, that was more of a demand than a question.

I study him, waiting for his request. ‘You’ll stay with me.’

What? Tonight? Forever? Elaborate, damn it! That definitely wasn’t a question, it was an order. I nod my head as I’m pulled back down and he mumbles incoherent words.

‘I need to hear the words, Ava.’ He circles his hips, penetrating me to the deepest part of my body.

‘Oh God, I will.’ I exhale around the scorching infiltration. My voice is quivering from pleasure and emotion as the forceful throb at my core takes over and I tremble in his hands.

‘You’re going to come.’ he pants.

‘Yes!’

‘Jesus, I love looking at you when you’re like this. Hold it, baby. Not yet.’

My arms start to buckle under me, prompting him to shift his grip to the middle of my back and pull me up so we’re front on front. I cry out as our chests collide and my new position has him penetrating me further. My hands fly up to grasp his back.

He searches my eyes. ‘You’re painfully beautiful and all mine. Kiss me.’

I obey, moving my palms to cup his handsome face and lowering my lips to his. He moans as I plunge my tongue into his mouth, his drives hardening into me.

‘Jesse,’ I plead. I’m going.

‘Control it, baby.’

‘I can’t.’ I pant into his mouth. I’m helpless to his invasion of my mind and body as I tense my thighs around him and shatter all over him. I cry out and trap his bottom lip between my teeth, biting down.

He shouts, rises to his knees, rears back and slams into me on his own release, clenching me to his chest and spilling himself inside of me. He thrusts up one last, powerful time. I cry out.

‘Jesus, Ava. What am I going to do with you?’

Keep me forever, PLEASE!

His face plummets into my neck as he pumps his hips slowly, back and forth, milking every ounce of pleasure from me. I’m dizzy, my head spinning wildly as his heavy, hot breath spreads across my neck and travels down my chest. Every internal muscle I possess grips him as he pulsates inside me. He’s shaking – proper trembling shakes. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him to me.

‘You’re shaking.’ I mumble the words into his shoulder.

‘You make me so happy.’

Do I? ‘I thought I made you crazy?’

He pulls back and looks me in the eyes, his forehead shimmering in sweat. ‘You make me crazy happy,’ He kisses my nose and sweeps my hair away from my face. ‘You also make me crazy mad.’ He gives me an accusing look. I don’t know why. It’s his own unreasonable, neurotic behavior that makes him crazy mad, not me.

‘I prefer you when you’re crazy happy, you’re scary when you’re crazy mad.’

His lips twitch. ‘Then stop doing things to make me crazy mad.’

I gape at him, but he presses his lips to mine before I can challenge him on that accusation. The man is crazy deluded, on top of everything else.

He rests back down on his heels. ‘I would never hurt you intentionally, Ava. You know that, right?’ The uncertainty is clear in his voice as he brushes a stray hair away from my face.

Now, this I’m absolutely certain of. Well, in the physical sense. It’s the emotional sense that scares me to death. And the fact that he added intentionally should be cause for concern.

I look into the hazy, green pools of this beautiful man. ‘I know.’ I sigh, but I really don’t. And it scares me to death.

He swivels around onto his back, taking me with him, so I’m sprawled across his chest. I shift slightly so I can trace a figure of eight on his stomach, lingering longer over his scar than anywhere else.

It fascinates me in a morbid kind of way, and it’s another mystery behind this man. It’s definitely not a war wound from an operation and it’s not a puncture wound or a slice. It looks far more sinister than that. The thick, jagged wave looks like someone has, literally, plunged a knife into his lower stomach and dragged it all the way around to his side. I shudder. I wouldn’t have thought anyone could survive a wound like it. He must have lost a heap of blood. Dare I press him on this?

‘Were you in the army?’ I ask quietly. This could explain it, and I’ve not asked directly.

He pauses stroking my hair briefly but continues shortly after. ‘No.’ he answers. He doesn’t ask me why I would think that. He knows what I’m getting at. ‘Leave it, Ava.’ he says in that tone – the one that makes me writher on the spot. Yeah, I’m not arguing with that voice, and I certainly don’t want to spoil the moment.

‘Why did you disappear on me?’ I ask a little apprehensively. I need to know.

‘I told you, I was a mess.’

‘Why?’ I press. His answer explains nothing. I feel him tense beneath me.

‘You spark feelings in me.’ he answers softly, and I think I might be getting somewhere.

‘What sort of feeling?’ BOOM!

He sighs. I’ve pushed my luck. ‘All sorts, Ava.’ He sounds irritated by it.

‘Is that a bad thing?’

‘It is when you don’t know how to deal with them.’ He lets out a long, tired breath of air.

I stop with my strokes. He doesn’t know how to deal with the feelings he’s having, so he tries to control me? How will that help? All sorts of feelings? This man talks in code. What does that mean, and why does he sound so frustrated by it?

‘You think I belong to you.’ I start circling my finger again.

‘No, I know you do.’

‘When did you establish that?’

‘When I spent four days trying to get you out of my head.’ He still sounds irritated, while I’m delighted with this news.

‘It didn’t work?’

‘Well, no, I was even crazier. Go to sleep.’ he orders.

‘What were you doing to try and get me out of your head?’

‘It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work, end of. Go to sleep.’

I pout to myself. I think I’ve extracted as much information as I’m going to get. Crazier? I don’t think I ever want to meet that man. All sorts of feeling? That, I think, I like the sound of.

I continue with my swirling patterns over his chest, while he strokes my hair and drops a kiss every now and then. The silence is comfortable and my eyes are getting heavy.

I pull myself further into him, resting my leg over his thigh. ‘Tell me how old you are.’ I garble into his chest.

‘No.’ he replies flatly. I screw my face up in sleepy disgust. I didn’t even get a fake age. I doze off into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of all things crazy.

Chapter 30

 

I wake up feeling exposed and cold, and I know immediately why. Where is he? I sit up, blowing the hair from my face, to find Jesse on the chaise lounge, bending down.

‘What are you doing?’ My throat is hoarse, not yet broken in.

He looks up and dazzles me with his smile, reserved only for women. How come he’s all bright eyed and bushy tailed? ‘I’m going for a run.’ He bends back down, and I notice he’s tying his trainers.

When he’s finished, he stands up, the full six foot three inches of lean loveliness, all the more lovely in loose, black running shorts and a marl grey vest. I lick my lips and smile admiringly. He has stubble. I could eat him.

‘I’m quite enjoying the view too.’ he says cheerfully. I snap my eyes to his, noting him staring at my chest with an arched brow and a half smile on his handsome face. I follow his gaze and find the cups of my bra are still sitting under my boobs. I leave them as they are, rolling my eyes.

‘What time is it?’ I suddenly have a stomach turning panic moment.

‘Five.’

I gape at him, all wide eyed, before dramatically collapsing back onto the bed. Five?  I have at least another hour of sleep. I pull the sheets over my head and close my eyes. But I only get, roughly, three seconds of shut eye, before the sheets are whipped off of me and Jesse is in my face, a wickedly mischievous grin plastered all over his face. I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him down to me, but he pulls against me, and I end up in a standing position before I realise what’s happened.

‘You’re coming,’ he informs me, snapping the cups of my bra back over my boobs. ‘Come on.’ He turns, heading for the bathroom.

I scoff indignantly. ‘No, I’m bloody not.’ He must be mad. I don’t mind a run, but not at five in the morning. ‘I run in the evenings.’ I advise his back, falling back to the bed. I crawl to the top and snuggle back down into the pillows, locating the one that smells the most of fresh water and mint. I’m rudely interrupted from my peace when he grabs my ankle and yanks me to the bottom of the bed. ‘Hey!’ I shout. I manage to take the pillow with me. ‘I’m not coming.’

He leans over, whips the pillow away and narrows his eyes on me. ‘Yes, you are. Mornings are better. Get ready.’ He flips me over and smacks my backside.

‘I don’t have my running kit.’ I say smugly, just as a sports bag lands on the bed next to me. He brought me running kit? ‘You brought these for me?’ I ask incredulously as I sit up. That’s a bit presumptuous. Maybe I don’t like running.

‘I saw your trainers in your room. They’re wrecked. You’ll damage your knees if you keep running in them.’ He stands with his arms folded, waiting for me to change.

It’s the crack of dawn. I’m not even awake yet, and he wants me pounding the pavements and puffing myself out through the streets of London before I’ve even done a day’s work?

Unreasonable!

He sighs, walking over to the sports bag and pulling out all sorts or running paraphernalia. He hands me a sports bra on a smirk. Oh, he really has thought of everything. I snatch it from his hands and remove my lace bra, replacing it with a reinforced shock absorber. My boobs aren’t so big that they need strapping down. Next, he passes me a pair of black running shorts – the same as his but the ladies version – and a fitted, pink running vest. I dress myself under his watchful eye. I can’t believe he’s dragging me out for a run at this time of day.

‘Sit.’ He points to the bed. I sigh dramatically, plonking myself on the end. ‘I’m ignoring you.’ he grumbles as he kneels in front of me, lifting one foot at a time to put breathable running socks on and a rather swanky pair of black, Nike, running shoes. He can ignore me all he likes. I’m not happy, and I want him to know it.

When he’s done, he pulls me up, stands back and runs his gaze up and down my sporty clad body. He nods his approval. Yes, I certainly look the part, but I’ve always just thrown on my baggy sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. I don’t want to look better than I actually am. I’m not bad, though.

‘Can I use your toothbrush?’ I ask, sidestepping him and heading for the bathroom.

‘Knock yourself out.’ I hear him call, but his toothbrush is already in my hand.

After brushing my teeth, I feel instantly more alert and even more determined to wipe the smugness from his face. I’ll run, I’ll keep up and I might even finish with a few sit-ups. I’ve been meaning to get back into the habit and there’s no time like the present. I walk back into the bedroom, back straight and raring to go.

‘Come on then, lady. Let’s start the day how we intend to finish it.’ He takes my hand, leading the way downstairs.

‘I’m not running again today!’ I splutter. This man really is mad.

He laughs. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘Oh, what did you mean?’

He flashes me a dark, dirty grin. ‘I mean by being out of breath and sweaty.’

I gasp slightly and shiver. I know which way I would prefer to get out of breath and sweaty, morning, noon and night. And it doesn’t involve this get up. ‘You’re not seeing me tonight.’ I remind him. His hand tightens around mine and he grunts a few times. I spot my handbag by the door. ‘I need a hair tie.’

He releases me and goes into the kitchen, leaving me to retrieve a hair tie from my bag. I scoop my hair up into a high ponytail and re-arrange my shorts. They’re chaffing. I need some pants on. I delve through my bag and come across my Little Miss Stubborn knickers.

Oh, no! I flush, cringe and die a thousand deaths all at once. He must have had a real good rummage to find these beauties. I’ve never worn them. They were Mum and Dad’s idea of a joke stocking filler and have been living at the back of my underwear drawer for many years.

Resigning myself to a fate full of continuous blushing, for as long as Sam’s in my life, I whip my shorts off to pull them on.

‘Ha! Let me see those.’ He grasps my hips, bending down to have a good inspection. ‘Can you get these in Little Miss Drive Jesse Crazy?’

I roll my eyes. ‘I don’t know. Can you get Mr Unreasonable Control Freak?’ He digs his thumbs into the hollow space above my hip bones, prompting me to fold over in laughter. ‘Stop!’

‘Get your shorts back on, lady.’ He smacks my bum.

I pull my shorts back on with a big grin on my face. He’s in a really good mood today. But, then again, I’m conforming.

We make our way down to the foyer, finding Clive with his head in his hands.

‘Morning, Clive.’ Jesse nods formally as we pass. He’s far too alert for this time of day.

Clive grumbles to himself, waving an absentminded hand at us. I don’t think he’s getting the hang of all that equipment.

Jesse stops us in the car park. ‘Stretch.’ he instructs, releasing my hand and pulling his lower leg up to his backside to stretch his thigh. I watch as it bulges under his running shorts. I cock my head, more than happy to stay right here and watch him do that. ‘Ava, stretch.’ he orders.

I throw him a disgruntled look. I’ve never stretched in my life – only in bed – and it’s never done me any harm.

On an over exaggerated sigh, I turn my back to him and spectacularly, and oh so very slowly, spread my legs and bend down to touch my toes, thrusting my backside in his face.

‘Oh!’ I feel his teeth sink into one of my cheeks, followed by a swift sting of his hand colliding with my bum. I turn back around and find an arched brow on a peeved face. The man is serious about his running, where as I just do a few miles now and again to keep the wine and cake from creeping onto my hips. ‘Where are we running?’ I ask, mirroring Jesse stretching his thighs and calves.

‘The Royal Parks,’ he answers.

Oh, I can do that. It’s roughly six miles around the circumference and one of my regular runs. No sweat.

‘Ready?’ he asks.

I nod and make my way over to Jesse’s car, while he makes his way to the pedestrian gate. What’s he doing? ‘Where are you going?’ I shout over to him.

‘For a run.’ he answers coolly.

What? Oh no. Realisation dawns on my waking brain. He’s going to make me run all the way to the parks, around them and back again? I can’t do that! Is he trying to kill me off? Crazy superbike rides, shock visits to my work place and now death by running?

‘Urh…how far is it to the parks?’ I try to sound completely blasé, but I’m not sure I’m pulling it off.

‘Four miles,’ His eyes are dancing with delight.

What? That’s a fourteen mile round trip! He can’t seriously run that far on a regular basis, it’s over half a bloody marathon. I choke slightly and disguise it with a cough, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m affected by this. I pull my vest down and walk over to the cocky, smug, Adonis of a man that has my heart in a tangled mess.

He punches the code in. ‘It’s eleven, twenty seven, fifteen,’ He glances at me with a small smile. ‘For future reference,’ He holds the gates open.

‘I’ll never remember that.’ I call over my shoulder as I pass him, starting my jog towards the Thames. I can do this, I can do this. I repeat the mantra – and the code – over and over in my head. I’ve not ran for three weeks now, but I refuse to let him get the better of me.

He’s caught up with me and running alongside me within a few yards. I look up to his lean loveliness. Does this man do anything badly? He runs like his upper body is disconnected from his lower body, his legs transporting his tall, lean body with ease. I’m determined to keep up with him, even though his pace is a little faster than I would normally take.

I get into my stride and we run along the river in a comfortable silence, throwing each other glances every now and then. Jesse is right – running in the morning is really quite relaxing. The city isn’t quite in full swing, the traffic is mainly delivery vans and there are no horns or sirens ringing in my ears. The air is surprisingly fresh and cool too. I might be changing my running pattern.

Half an hour later, we hit St James’s Park and follow the green lushness at a steady pace. I feel surprisingly good, considering I’ve run somewhere near four miles already. I glance up at Jesse, who’s putting his hand up to every fellow runner as they pass – all women – who smile brightly at Jesse and eye me suspiciously. I roll my eyes at the desperate losers, glancing up to gage his reaction, but he looks completely unaffected by both the women and the running. That was probably just his warm up.