The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)

He frowns as if trying to focus his eyes, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll get my driver to pick us up, and I’ll make us some breakfast at my place.”

I lean up onto my elbow and look down at him. “What’s wrong with here? I’ve got breakfast things you can cook.”

“Nothing. I just feel more comfortable at my place. We will hang there today.”

“I’m more comfortable here, Jameson,” I reply, slightly annoyed.

“What?” He winces. “How could you be?”

I sit up, affronted. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.

He rolls his eyes. “Here we go a-fucking-gain.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You asked that question twice,” he replies dryly. “Do you have to argue about every fucking thing that we do?”

“I’m not arguing. I’m just saying I want to stay here today. Your apartment may be fancy, but it doesn’t impress me.”

He stares at me for a moment.

“And for the record, I don’t argue about everything. I was annoyed that your masseuse is on personal terms to message you the way she did.”

He rolls his eyes and puts the back of his forearm over them. “Here we go.”

“Will you stop saying that?” I snap as I get out of bed and put on my robe. “I was just lying here thinking how gorgeous you are, and then you go and open your big mouth and ruin the whole thing.”

“I’m thinking the same thing,” he snaps as he gets out of bed. “And stop going on about Chloe—it’s not a relationship.”

I stop still. What the hell does he mean by that? “What do you mean, it’s not a relationship? Do you and she have sex?”

He bends and picks up his jeans, ignoring me.

“Jameson.” I put my hands on my hips as I watch him.

He pulls his jeans on and zips them up. “Sometimes.”

“You have sex with her?” I gasp.

“I have a standing appointment on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She doesn’t come for sex, but sometimes it just happens. She’s touching me, I’m oiled up . . . it just happens.”

My mouth falls open. “Did you have sex with her this last week? Since you’ve been with me?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Stop rolling your fucking eyes at me,” I snap.

“No. I didn’t have sex with her th

is week.”

“Did you have your regular two massages?”

“Yes.”

“So you had someone else’s hands all over your body?” I fume.

“Like you did last night on the dance floor. Stop looking for a fucking fight, Emily. You are pissing me off.”