Ruthless Love by Demi Damson

Author:Demi Damson [Damson, Demi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-06-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty–Four

Sunday You’re In Love

Jordan woke up the next morning with Charlotte snuggled up against him.

“Hey, wake up.”

She squirmed. “No.”

“Come on, let’s go for a run.”

She opened one eye. “Really? Out there in the cold?”

“Sure. It’s not cold if you are running.”

She put her head under the pillow.

He took it away. “Unless you are too wimpy to go running with me.”

She shot him a look. “Seriously?”

He grinned. “Not sure you can keep up.”

“Give me three minutes.”

“Two.”

She rolled out of bed and threw on a tight tank top, sadly covered by faded old sweat shirt and some baggy sweat pants. They certainly didn’t match his hopeful mental image of her in skin-tight latex. She looked... well, a bit like Rocky Balboa, if he was honest. She looked fearless, ready to take on the world. He crossed the room in two sure strides and pulled her to his chest. “You are beautiful. I could eat you alive.” He nibbled on her ear lobe to prove his point.

Her warm and curvy body squirmed against him in ways that made him want to forget all about his morning run. Instead, he should throw her on the bed and take off those ratty old clothes that she’d brought with her to Haven for some unknown reason and touch every inch of her body again.

“Unhand me, you brute,” she said, laughing. “I’m trying to get my shoes on.”

“We could try a different kind of work-out...”

“You still think I wouldn’t be able to keep up.” She glared at him. “You can at least give me a chance to prove myself.”

“OK, OK.” He let go, one finger trailing reluctantly along her arm as she turned and grabbed her running shoes.

She bent over to tie them up and then turned and grinned at him. “HUP two three four!” She shoved him out the door. Which was a good thing, if he was honest, because he was on the verge of tossing her into the bed and pinning her beneath him until breakfast time.

They’d only gone a few blocks when he took pity on her. Her form was well, nonexistent, and she was pink in the face and panting. “Are you alright? We can take it easy.”

“I’m fine. Tell me about the people coming tonight,” she said.

He grinned. She wasn’t making conversation, she was trying to slow him down and distract him, he was pretty sure. But if it gave him an excuse to keep running with her, he’d talk.

“Well, next to us, there’s the Millers. They’ve been around since I can remember. He’s made his money in pharmaceuticals.” He gave her a rundown of the families in every house as they ran past, who they were, what the gossip was.

She was clearly struggling to keep up, but she kept nodding and smiling. She wasn’t going to be the first to say they had to stop. He kept his pace slow—he could sprint another day, when he was on his own—and acted like this was his standard run.

Even so, about

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