“We have, but there isn’t a chance in hell I’m dropping it.”
“I have a running affliction,” I said, sipping my water.
“A . . . running affliction,” he parroted, his expression showing he wasn’t buying it.
“Yes, a running affliction,” I reiterated, hiding behind my menu.
Cameron faced the wall in an attempt to hold in his laugh, and I kicked him under the table with my pointy shoe.
“Ouch,” he said, giving me a wary glance.
“You deserved it.”
“So, tell me, how long have people been calling an ambulance when that happens?”
“Cameron,” I warned as he burst into another fit of laughter. “You’re such an ass. I’ve been made fun of for the way I run my whole life.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, sobering. “Well, have no fear, beautiful. Running just so happens to be one of the things I’m good at.”
“So you’ve told me,” I said, pretending to scan my menu. “Some of us aren’t that graceful.”
“No one is when they s
tart,” he said sincerely.
“I’m a little bowlegged. It’s always been hard for me,” I admitted, my face flaming.
A beat of silence. I didn’t look at him.
“You know with running, there is a posture to it. We can retrain your body.”
That piqued my interest, and I looked up from my menu. “Really?”
“Yes,” he said, taking off his blazer. “If you want, I’ll guide you through it. I’ll coach you.”
The little girl inside me who watched relay races from the sidelines and vied to get picked as someone’s partner or just once for Red Rover perked up.
“I don’t know. I’m pretty lazy in the morning.”
“I can change that too. You can run your first marathon by spring.”
I looked at him skeptically. “I doubt that.”
“Then let this be my promise to you. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Both of my hands pinned above my head, Cameron dipped and sipped my neck before he captured my mouth, thrusting his tongue deep, kissing me within an inch of my life. His solid body rocked against mine as he coiled me tightly beneath him.
Everything inside me was screaming for relief as he ground his hips and pressed his erection to my stomach. “Abbie,” he murmured, trailing his palm from the side of my face, down my chest, cupping my breast as he kept his eyes on mine. I could see my breath as it hit his full lips. It was coming out in fast spurts. His hand drifted further, and he paused, his eyes flitting to mine for permission that I gave with silence before he cupped my sex through my leggings.
Moaning out my welcome, he brushed his fingers along the fabric, and I tilted my head back.
“Are you wet for me?” he murmured to my throat as we got indecent on my porch. Reaching between us, I gripped his dick through his pants and heard a grunt while he worked his fingers against me, adding pressure. “Should I make you come right here on your porch so every time you’re at your door you think of me?”
“Cameron,” I prayed.
“That’s not an answer,” he admonished as he made quick work of dipping into my leggings and swiping a finger against the edge of my panties. I twisted my hips before he skimmed a lone finger over the silk covering my drenched middle. He worked it back and forth slowly, toying with me as I ground into him, desperate for friction.