Sunday, November 29, 2009
She jolted upright, slamming her hand down to stop the inconsiderate buzz that had woken her. Her heart drummed loudly against her chest. A dream, it was just a dream Mac. She pressed her palm against her cheek, Jesus it was burning. Just like the dream, he was burning, all over her. She slammed her eyes shut as the tingle on her arms spread all the way down to her toes. She was not doing this. She was not having naughty dreams about the man she now worked for.
It was just the Chinese, ok the Chinese and the kiss. She pulled back the covers and sprung out of bed, it was time for Jon’s morning run. She loved running so, so far so good. This might not be that bad, they seemed to at least have the common denominator of exercise.
She tugged on her three-quarter yoga pants and lifted her sports bra over her head before jamming on her sneakers. Tying back her hair from her face she reached into the draw and pulled out her small revolver, clicked the safety on and adjusted the holster around her shoulders. She grabbed her phone and took a deep breath as the apartment outside her door was coming to life.
This, was Day One.
Jon turned his hip popping painfully as he swivelled to get a better look at her. [i]Christ, not like you haven't seen a woman before, asshole.[/i] He turned back to lacing his shoe. "Mornin'," he said gruffly. He tried to sleep the night before, but the silk of her hair ended up tangled in his sheets and across his chest in a half dozen different scenarios through the night. He never should have touched her. Wanting and tasting was always a fine line that could be crosses if he wasn't careful.
He tried to logically work out what the hell it was about this woman that had him all in a twist, she was gorgeous, had a great body but it wasn’t like he’d not seen that all before.
She smiled as he finished getting ready for his run. She turned and looked out to the city skyline that stretched out before her like a postcard. The morning was a band of purples and reds as the sun came up on the city that never sleeps. “Great morning for it." She stretched her arms out high above her head to loosen herself up.
He looked up at her, from his own deep stretch. Her dark hair, pulled back and not a lick of makeup--as fresh faced as a teen, until you looked into her eyes. Her eyes were no nonsense and filled with too much life experience. He watched as she deliberately shut him out with a pair of Ray Bans. "Nothing I like better than a fall morning run. A little glass in your lungs is better than coffee."
She chuckled , their eyes catching but hers were shielded thankfully. "They do say that, but if you're like me you want both. I'm greedy" she flashed him a wide smile. She felt her body ease, he seemed un phased by the night before, just acting as he called it. She had to make sure that she followed suit, as delicious as he was, he was off-limits here.
He stuffed his own shades on. "Well, then we'll run around the east end and stop at Dunkin' before we head back. It's a perfect three miles. You know, I don't want to hurt you the first day out with me." His mouth quirked.
She let the laugh rumble in her throat before giving him a playful slap on the back "Three? C’mon you can do better than that?" She usually ran five on a good day, eight for training when she was in the marines. “Your legs tell me you run more than three miles.” Crap, too late. She’d already said it.
"Alright, alright," he laughed. "Just trying to go easy on you. I usually do five every morning. Seven when I do the trails outside my Jersey house." When the doors opened, he headed out the front door at a fast walk."Desk jockey's get out of the habit," he said as he went into a light jog around the corner.
She fell into step easily with him since they were around the same height, their strides were similar. "Well not this desk jockey, I run five most days at the gym usually, the beach if I'm lucky and I jump through hoops for my Hitler, my gym dictator a few nights a week. Don't keep these tight thighs otherwise with what I eat." she said slapping her thigh as they jogged down the pavement littered with a few early business workers carrying their Starbucks.
His cock twitched at the slap. Christ, he didn't need to think about how tight her damn thighs were, he could already tell through the skin tight yoga pants she wore. Weren’t they supposed to be free flowing for fuck's sake? "Sounds like your trainer and mine went to the same school of torture and human debasement." He lengthened his stride as they blazed through their first mile. He glanced at his watch,noticing it was a personal best for a mile. Under six minutes. He shook his head, letting his breath in through his nose as the cold air hit him like ice in his lungs.
"I think it's a pre-requisite. I swear to god, one day I want just be able to kick his ass," she chuckled. She glanced around, making sure all angles were clear, behind, in front and from the side. She had to be ready for anything, and her hand two seconds off her gun.
She puffed out her breath, and snuck a look at him running beside her. His lean athletic form, complimented with amazing biceps that now were glistening with sweat. It was then she tasted the salt on her lips. And it wasn't hers. Good fuck. Someone up there hated her. His sweat? Are you kidding me?
"So tonight we have some dinner right?" she panted as they edged a corner.
He nodded, "Democrat function tonight. Black tie, so you'll have to wear one of those fancy dresses you tucked away when you moved," he cleared his throat, "you know, moved in." He grinned at her. "I'm wearing black Versace if that helps you make a selection." His eyes tripped over her clenching ass muscles as she widened her stride to go around the corner. His gaze travelled back up, the bump under her jacket wasn't her flesh. It sure as hell wasn't the curve of her rather delectable breasts." His eyes focused straight ahead as he saw it thump against her body. Gun. His stride faltered as he fell back for a moment, before catching up.
He'd had guards on and off for more than half his life, but they'd always been muscle, not hardware.
Mackenzie hadn't worn a dress in months. Hell, she couldn’t actually remember the last time she had. Her mind derailed for a second remembering exactly what would be required of her that night. More Chinese kisses. She swallowed hard and forced a smile "Sure, I’ve got something.” They kept running. "Jon, how did we meet? You know for story purposes and how long have we dated... if anyone asks?" she said as they slowed at the next corner.
Blinking out of the gun thoughts, he sucked in a lungful of October air and slowed to a jog with her. "Well, I've been divorced for awhile now, but we should probably still be in the honeymoon phase, if you will, but long enough that I'd have you move in so...say six months?"
Ahh the honeymoon phase, still in that slightly giddy playful place. She closed her eyes and caught her breath for a second. She could do it, no she had to do it. One false move could land them both in danger so there was no choice here. "Sounds fine, I'll let you lead on that if anyone asks..." The sweat on her body was starting to chill as they slowed down. It wasn't that she didn’t want to touch him at all. It was if she did, she wasn't sure how to stop it.
Her ponytail slid over her shoulder and he looked straight ahead again. He knew it was stupid, but long silky hair made him nuts. "And maybe we met at one of the Philly Soul Foundation functions. I've been off tour and that's pretty much the only thing I've been doing lately."
Football, dammit. She knew she’d be exposed to it eventually, she just wasn’t sure she was prepared for, having avoided it most of her life. Since Brian. “I used to be involved in that arena, so I’m up on most of the lingo.”
He'd wondered if football was the reason why she'd said no, but now he knew that wasn't it. She hadn't wanted to go out with him. Then again, not every woman was enamoured by the so called glamour of his life. He smiled without teeth, his temples aching something fierce. He'd just need to get over the attraction, thought that was going to be hard when the public personas were going to be obvious lovers.
The doors of Dunkin Donuts soon came into view and they came to a stop outside. She put her hands on her knees and caught her breath. She tried to shake the guilt creeping back up her neck. She popped her knuckles and looked over at him, at that moment knew she could never let him become another Brian.
“You’re paying,” she said with a wink.