his eyes meet mine again, they dance with mirth, like he knows he’s affecting me, the bastard.
“I’m going for a run.”
I blink at him, waiting for the punchline…but it doesn’t come. “Okay. Good for you.”
“I thought you could join me.”
“I’m—” horny “—busy.”
He hums in thought. “Busy, huh?” he replies, his teeth flashing as his lips part into a smile. “Yeah, I can smell just how busy you are.”
Motherfuck. He knows!
Panicked and pissed, I grab the door and slam it shut in his face, like that’ll help. If I can’t see you, you can’t smell my cunt kind of thing.
He laughs from the other side, while I fume in mortification at being caught. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, Jet Plane. You smell fucking delicious. Now get your tight ass out here and let’s go for a run. It’ll help you work out some of that...energy,” he calls, his voice slightly muffled.
I open my mouth, ready to tell him to fuck off, but...a run does sound nice.
“Come on,” he urges. “I’ve been told you have a lot of aggression to burn off. Let’s see if you can keep up with me.”
The very idea that he could ever beat me at a run is enough to make me snort and open the door again. “Let’s get one thing straight,” I tell him. “It’s you who will have to keep up with me.”
“Sure,” he says appeasingly.
I’m going to run this motherfuck into the ground.
“Gimme a minute.”
I kick the door closed again, smirking when I hear it knock into his head on the way shut. I quickly change into some running shorts, a sports bra, and a t-shirt, and then pull my shoes on. My boots aren’t the best thing to run in, but I’ve only let Addie and Hugo give me the bare minimum as far as clothes and other necessities, so they’re the only pair I have. I pull on my leather jacket too, just in case it gets cold when I’m forced to walk with him since he probably won’t be able to keep up with me. I smirk at the thought.
When I’m dressed, I meet him in the hallway and follow him downstairs. The warehouse is quieter than usual with some of the shifters gone to the beach. Even outside, I can feel the absence.
Jericho leads me around to the back of the warehouses and heads for the woods at a brisk walk. “I thought you wanted to run,” I say.
His black hair looks shiny in the sunlight, and he’s wearing a pair of black shorts and a white t-shirt that hugs his biceps nicely. “I do. But we’ll do it once we hit the tree line.”
He’s speaking my language now. Running in the woods is by far my favorite. My animal likes the wild seclusion of it.
“So, this Heathcliff,” Jericho suddenly says, and I don’t miss the way he grumbles Cliff’s name, as if it’s personally offensive. “You and him. You were...together.”
“Yes.”
A grunt crawls out of his throat. “Well? What’s he like?”
My brows push together. “What?”
“I’m just curious,” he replies.
I study him out of the corner of my eye with disbelief. “Is this why you dragged my ass out here? Because you want me to talk about Cliff?
“What?” he replies, his tone tinged with defensiveness.
“Oh, shit. You’re jealous.” I don’t need to ask. It’s clear as day. “Why the motherfuck are you jealous?”
He snorts and shakes his head, keeping his strides long as we head for the trees. “Only you would fucking ask that.”
I scowl at him and shake my head. I know we’re attracted to each other, but fuck. This dude can’t catch feelings for me. He just can’t.
“Don’t be an idiot. You can’t possibly stand to like me.”
He sends a scowl right back at me like he’s passing the baton. “I can fucking like you if I want to.”
Well, now I’m just pissed off. I level him with a look, because this is for his own damn good. “Don’t fucking like me, Jericho. I’m serious.”
He stops, his face reddening with anger. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Jet. I’m serious,” he snaps right back, throwing my words in my face.
I throw my hands up in frustration, stopping in front of him. I don’t know who’s scowling harder, me or him, but our faces are dampening the bright sun. “Are you serious? I’m not even nice to you!” I accuse.
“I know!” he says back with exasperation. “But it fucking gets me hard!”