CHAPTER 9

He kissed my forehead and rolled out of bed in complete darkness after his alarm went off. He explained the night before that watching film of the coming week’s rival team was the highlight of the week.

I grumbled and fell back to sleep.

My eyes popped open when the covers were yanked away, and I squinted against the light shining through the open blinds.

He held a tray in his arms. “One of the few things I can cook, sleepyhead, is waffles, and I make a mean cup of coffee.”

“No coffee. Not till after I run.” My voice was still groggy with sleep.

“Sit up. I’ll drink yours, and you can have my water.”

I adjusted the pillows behind my back, looked at the pushed down covers, and glanced at him while trying to snag the sheet.

He shook his head and gave me his “just-try-it” look.

Killian was really into this naked thing, though he was completely dressed. All my insecurities returned.

“You shouldn’t drink coffee before running,” I said grumpily to hide my awkwardness.

He scanned my bare chest. “In the morning, there’s no blood in my veins, just coffee, baby. Now stop complaining and enjoy your breakfast.”

“One waffle. I can’t eat a lot before I run.”

“I’m taking notes. Are all runners this picky?”

“What do you eat before a game?”

“A cow.”

I glared. “Seriously.”

“Okay, so I eat light, but the cow comes later.”

“Exactly,” I said in a harsher tone than I meant to.

“You sure are grouchy in the morning.”

The gruff voice he used to make me sizzle was back and damn, his dimples were showing.

As hard as I tried to keep a level tone, my words came out breathy. “Only when I’ve had less than five hours sleep.”

Killian wasn’t fooled. “I’ll add that to the list.”

I ate one waffle, wanted five more, but knew I needed to run first. Killian gave me a clean pair of his boxer briefs, sweat shorts, and a t-shirt. I showered quickly while he took care of some pressing emails. I walked into the front room looking like a homeless person in the oversized clothes.

His dimples flashed and I wanted to drown in his laughing eyes.

Rounding my shoulders, I tilted my upper body back and displayed a double peace sign with my fingers before tilting forward again. “I got this gangsta shit down.”

Killian was on me in a blink, spinning me around, my ass in the air with my stomach pressed against the back of the couch. He had my shorts and underwear pushed to the floor before I knew what happened.

“Killian, what are you doing?” I laughed.

“You’s in my territory, and you payin’ turf fee.”

I could only groan as his cock slid between my legs and found my sweet spot. He reached around and teased my clit while his hips went to work rocking the large couch. God, I could get used to this every day for the rest of my life.

I moaned when the orgasm zinged between my g-spot and clit while Killian roared against the skin of my neck. I might not be a screamer, but he sure as hell made up for it. I liked it because he always let me know I’d done something right. Even if all I did was have repeated orgasms.

Sliding out, he pulled up my underwear and shorts then turned me around.

For the first time after sex, he didn’t look happy.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said with complete shock on his face.

What the hell?

His eyes locked with mine and I saw worry tinged with something I couldn’t identify. On anyone else I would think it was terror.

“I didn’t bag it.”

Oh shit, it was terror.

“Um, I’m on the pill.”

He still didn’t look happy.

“I’m clean and haven’t had sex in over a year.”

His dimples gave a slight quirk. “I’m clean, too. Why are you on the pill?”

My face went red. I did not feel comfortable talking about my body’s cycle.

He waited patiently.

I gave in. “Running makes my period almost non-existent. I take the pill straight through for three months then off for a week. It sometimes lets my body do its thing.”

He blinked, and then a slow, sensual smile lit up his face.

“You don’t have periods for three months?” He looked like he ate a piece of his favorite candy.

“Perv.”

“Why have I never dated a runner before?”

Now I gave him my evil-eyed look.

“Sorry.” He turned slightly away. “I’m an insensitive jerk. What about mood swings?”

My fist flew, hitting him on the side of his arm. I shook my hand out from the pain of connecting with a cement wall.

“What was that for?” He rubbed the spot I’d hit even though I knew it really felt like nothing more than a mosquito bite to him.

“That was a mood swing.”

He laughed all the way to the counter where he grabbed his keys.

He turned back with his bad-boy grin still plastered to his face. “I’ll add that to my long list of notes.”

An hour later, we stood outside my apartment building after I changed into real running gear. As much as I liked wearing Killian’s clothes, I couldn’t run in them. He had a ball cap pulled low over his eyes, no shirt, and drool-worthy shorts. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to lose fluids, so I had to keep my eyes off him or at least try. It was nine in the morning, four hours after I usually started my run, and it was already hotter than hell.

“You sure you want to do this?” I asked Mac the Knife.

“I’m tough, baby. I live for this heat.”

He held tight on the first mile, stretched with me, and then without complaint settled in for the real fun. Five miles later, I started to see the strain. Sweat dripped off both our bodies, but his was a river.

“Cut the coffee next time,” I taunted. We continued running for two more miles.

We ran beside the canal and entered the soccer park district. He grabbed my hand, throwing me slightly off stride.

“What are you doing?”

He pulled me off the cement and onto the grass. Three small trees bunched close together and had about five feet of shade beneath them. He collapsed and pulled me down beside him.

“We have another six miles.” I struggled to pull away, but he wouldn’t release my hand.

“I think we need an ambulance, and you can’t leave me to face the tabloids alone.” His heavy breathing made me smile.

“Tabloids?”

“‘Killian MacGregor Dead From Heatstroke’ will be the headline. If you mention coffee, I’m throwing you into the canal.”

I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. “You did better than I thought you would.”

“Hell, what does it take to be at the head of the pack for college runners? I can run, baby, but not at this level.”

“You have too much muscle mass. Your body works harder.” I looked at the canal and tried to keep more laughter from my voice. “The coffee and five waffles didn’t help.”

“I’m too tired to take notes, so please remind me after the ambulance arrives.”

I flipped open my old cheap phone and called Lyle. “Killian went running with me. We’re at the canal soccer field.” I listened and then answered. “He doesn’t have a shirt on and his shorts will give you wet dreams for the next month.” I looked at Killian, who put his forearm over his eyes. I clicked my phone shut.

He groaned out beneath his arm, “Can I just look sexy and not put out?”

My laughter bubbled over. I think I loved Killian MacGregor.