13. Avery
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Avery
Begrudgingly, I drag my running shorts up my legs. I’ve worn them many times, but never to actually to go on a run. While I work out regularly, running isn’t and never has been on the roster of activities I cycle through.
Knowing that I’m not going to impress anyone, Miles included, I throw on a cut-off T-shirt over my sports bra. I’m tying my shoes when there’s a knock on the door.
I swing it open, finding Miles standing there. A huge smile is plastered on his face. I stare back with the disdain I feel for the activity I’m being forced to participate in.
“It’s way too early for you to be that happy,” I say, leaning against the doorway.
He playfully rolls his eyes. “It’s never too early to be happy.”
I’m going to punch him in the face.
He grabs my hand, pulling me out onto the sidewalk. “The sooner we get started, the sooner you can be done.”
I groan, cursing myself for ever making that bet with him.
Lyla sets her empty cereal bowl in the sink, running up the stairs to get ready for the day.
“I bet she comes down in her white shirt with sunflowers on it,” Miles says, sipping his coffee at the table.
I lean my forearms on the counter. “Nah… she’s going to wear the bright pink one with the ruffles on the sleeves.”
I’m almost one-hundred-percent sure that’s what she’ll choose because she asked me to wash it for her yesterday. Am I going to tell him that? Nope.
“Care to make it interesting?” he says, moving into the kitchen until he’s only a foot in front of me.
I nod, confidence fueling the smirk plastered on my face.
“If I win, you have to go on a run with me,” he says. He smirks, obviously remembering my hatred for the act of running.
I can’t help but cringe, which makes him chuckle.
Asshole.
“Fine,” I say, and I only agree because I know I won’t actually have to go through with it.
I lean my chin against my hand, thinking about what I want to make him do. A million dirty ideas flash through my mind, but I quickly bat them away.
“If I win, you have to give me a massage,” I say.
This only makes his smile grow. Damn. I guess I didn’t think that through. That’s what I want though, so I don’t really care.
“Sounds like I win either way, gorgeous,” he says with that lazy smile that makes tingles shoot straight to my vagina.
Lyla’s feet pound across the floor above us. “Moment of truth,” he says, leaning against the counter beside me. We both stare at the stairs, waiting.
My jaw drops when her sunflower-covered shirt comes into view.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I feel betrayed for some unknown reason. Lyla had no idea this bet was even happening, and she’s a kid for heaven’s sake.
I really don’t want to look at Miles, but I force myself to twist my body toward him. The look on his face is even more irritating than I imagined.
“I guess I’m going to have a running buddy on Saturday morning,” he says, smugness dripping from every word.
Shaking my head, I snap back to the here and now.
I lock the door, walking to where Miles is standing on the grass. I silently follow along with all the stretches he’s doing, trusting his expertise.
“You’re actually going to kill me if you keep that glare up,” he says.
“Good.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go.”
He turns around, slowly running down the driveway. With one last deep breath, I follow behind him.
He glances at me over his shoulder. “You can run beside me. I won’t bite.”
“I might,” I mutter under my breath. He must hear me, though, because he rolls his eyes. He spins, so he’s running backwards.
What the fuck?
“Get up here. I won the bet. Remember?”
Fighting the urge to just tackle him, I move up to his side as we continue down the road. “I’m going to slow you down,” I tell him.
“I don’t care,” he says casually. “You’re here. That’s all that matters to me.”
Holy fuck.
Suddenly, this run went from being a silly punishment after a bet to something seemingly deeper. There’s a softness in his eyes when he glances at me. I just give him a small nod because what else am I going to say?
Miles has a flirty, goofy exterior, but he’s really a softy—a golden retriever through and through. And it seems each time I’m with him, I like him more and more.
Sneaking a glance at him out of the corner of my eyes, I suck in a sharp breath that has nothing to do with the fact that I’m currently jogging. It has everything to do with my growing feelings for this man.
I’m actually going to die. Miles is going to have to dig a hole on the side of this road to bury me in.
I pause, resting my hands on my knees. Sweat drips from my brow as I desperately try to suck in air. I’m sure I look like a hot fucking mess right now.
Miles stops, rubbing his hand on my back. “We only have, like, half a mile left,” he tells me. He isn’t even breathing hard, which makes me feel even more pitiful than I already do.
“How far have we already run?” I ask between jagged breaths. Thank fuck my lungs have adjusted to the altitude some over the last few weeks, or I would have perished a while ago.
“Three and a half miles.”
I jerk to stand all the way up, my eyes popping wide. “I ran that far?”
His smile almost looks like he’s proud of me. “I wasn’t going to go that far, but you were kind of killing it.”
“Shut up. I am definitely not killing it,” I say, sucking in another breath into my aching lungs.
“Agree to disagree,” he says with a shrug.
I grip the bottom of my shirt, pulling it over my head. “If I have to run any more, I can’t wear this damn shirt.” I feel like I’m suffocating inside of it.
His eyes dart from my stomach to my chest, and back up to my eyes. I would give him a snappy remark, but I’m really too tired to come up with anything decent.
He reaches behind his neck, pulling his shirt off. Now I’m the one staring at him .
I don’t even bother dragging my eyes away from his sculpted chest and abs. He’s just so pretty to look at. He’s lean, no doubt from all the running, but he’s also toned.
“Good to know I’m not the only one with a staring problem.” He laughs, grabbing my shirt from my hand. “Come on, gorgeous, let’s finish this.”
We run in silence all the way back to his house. I’m out of breath again, but I feel surprisingly happy.
I don’t want him to know that, though. He’d never let me hear the end of it.
I sprawl out on the grass and he stretches beside me. At some point, I must have closed my eyes because next thing I know he’s gently shaking me.
He grabs my hand, helping me stand. My hand remains in his, so I’m forced to follow along as he walks into the main house.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you your side of the bet, too.”
“A massage?” I ask. I wish I didn’t sound so damn hopeful.
He nods as we start walking up the stairs.
Laying down before stretching was probably not the best idea. Everything is already aching, I can only imagine how I’m going to feel come tomorrow morning when I peel myself out of bed.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, realizing the house is silent.
“They were all going to the store after Lyla got up.”
With his free hand, he opens his bedroom door. As I step inside, I realize I’ve never been in his room. I’ve been all over this house over the last month, but I’ve never been in here.
He guides me over to the queen-sized bed with a fluffy comforter covered in stripes of varying shades of gray. I kick off my shoes and socks and starfish across the bed.
I hear him laugh behind me, but I don’t turn to look. “Shut up,” I groan into the comforter.
There’s the sound of a drawer opening and closing, his shoes thudding against the floor, and then he’s climbing onto the bed.
He nudges my legs closer together so he can straddle my thighs. He scoots forward, and now he’s firmly pressed against my ass.
“Don’t get hard right now,” I say, keeping my face down.
“Refrain from wiggling that perfect ass against me, and I think I’ll manage,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss on my neck. I’m sure it’s a salty mess from all the sweating I did, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
I grind my ass back against him just once, biting my bottom lip.
“Avery…” The warning is clear in his tone.
“I’ll be good,” I say.
“Mmhmm,” he mumbles, like he really doesn’t believe me.
I don’t really believe me, either.
Suddenly, something cold and wet lands on the small of my back. My head jerks up, whipping around to look at him.
“Did you just squirt lube on me?” I ask in horror.
His eyes go from looking confused to elated as he bursts out laughing.
“The fuck are you laughing at?” I snap, staring at him awkwardly over my shoulder.
He barely pulls it together enough to hold up a bottle of massage oil.
Oh…
He opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is more bursts of laughter. I smother my face against the comforter, letting out a muted scream.
“If you’re going to scream in my bed, I would rather it be for other reasons,” he says. “Like, involving actual lube.”
Kill me now.
“Less talking. More massaging,” I grumble.
“Yes, gorgeous.”
He starts to work the gel into my lower back. It doesn’t take long before I’ve completely melted against his mattress. The aches from earlier are forgotten.
All I can focus on is the feeling of his strong hands massaging every available inch of me. The clothes I finished the run in stay on, but he diligently works around them.
When he presses a kiss against my shoulder and whispers something about being done, I can’t find the energy or will to move.
He lays down beside me, and I find myself mindlessly snuggling up beside him. My head rests against his chest that’s now covered in a T-shirt. My eyes flutter as his arm wraps around me.
The last thing I’m aware of is the sound of his heart beating beneath me and his fingers tracing lazily up and down my arm.