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“I was thinking about doing a different kind of cardio.” I cleared my throat.
“I’ve been thinking about that kind of cardio with you since I learned my dick is good for more than just peeing. Are you sure you’re ready, though?”
I loved that he asked. Loved that he was considerate and, at the same time, still treated me like a sex kitten and not some fragile, little ditzy girl while we were intimate. “I’m ready,” I said.
He grabbed the back of my neck, tugging me forward to plant a kiss on my lips. “Now let’s fuck the attitude you gave me this past month out of you. Be a good girl and go bend—”
A rap on the door cut him off.
Noooooooooooooo.
“Casablancas!” Gertie’s voice screeched. “Cleaning’s in ten minutes. You better get your ass outta there by then, or you’ll have to wait until after the weekend.”
“Did you not see the Do Not Disturb sign on my door?” he called out, tucking me under his arm protectively, like she had caught us. Such a stark difference from how Franco had treated me. My heart crumbled like a cookie.
“Sure did,” she confirmed. “Ruining your day is my only source of joy these days, seeing as your little deal is about to run me out of business. Eight minutes now.”
There was a thump, indicating the woman had left. Row and I looked at each other for a beat. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ll last more than ten seconds once I’m inside you, but preferably, I’d like more than eight minutes to make sure you come too.”
“Fine, we’ll jog.” I pouted.
He kissed my puckered lips. “That’s my girl.”
CAL
“Desert Rose”—Sting
Since I didn’t have any running gear, we made a pit stop at my house.
Mamushka was drinking her morning tea at the kitchen table, mindlessly flipping through a newspaper and humming to herself.
“Hello, Ambrose, how are your knuckles doing?” She grinned behind the rim of her mug as soon as we walked in, not bothering to raise her gaze from the paper.
“Better than Kieran’s nose, I hear.” Row leaned down to kiss the crown of her head. “Good morning, Mrs. Litvin.”
“It certainly seems to be, at least for you two.”
“We brought pastries.” He slid a box of Dahlia’s Diner’s finest across the table. It was his idea not to come empty-handed. Suck-up.
“Come, sit down. I’ll pour you a cup of tea and ask you inappropriate questions about your relationship with my daughter while Cal gets ready for her run.”
“You knew we’ve been running together?” I asked, surprised.
“You weren’t very discreet about it.” Mom flipped open the pastry box, settling for a white chocolate croissant. “I can hear your bickering from all the way down the street.”
I felt my blush charring my skin to the point of third-degree burns. “Row, please don’t feel obligated to answer any of her questions.”
“Don’t worry.” Row smirked at Mamushka. “You can ask me anything you want, and I’ll answer with unnecessary detail, explicit examples, and time stamps.”
“I hate you.” I picked up a powdered-sugar donut, licking the sugar.
“Got a weird way of showing it.” He snaked an arm around my shoulder and dropped a kiss to my temple.
Oh my. We were flirting. In front of my mother. My head snapped up to look at him, shocked by the semi-public display of affection.
“Is this okay?” He scanned me, his question barely audible.
I nodded quickly. It’s more than okay. It’s a dream I don’t want to wake up from.
