"You can't seriously be paranoid." Smirking up at Jameson, I shrugged his arm from my shoulders.
It wasn't that I minded his arm around me — the opposite, in fact — but rather that he was being so protective over me. Few people roamed the sidewalk we walked across, and they looked friendly enough that I figured murder was out of the question.
But Jameson still seemed to think it wasn't.
As soon as his arm was off my shoulders, it slid to my waist, pulling me even tighter against his side.
"I'm not paranoid, Heiress," Jameson murmured. "I'm simply being cautious."
"Cautious isn't a word I would associate with you."
Instead of responding, Jameson looked me up and down, his gaze devastatingly handsome. And when his fingers teased that strip of bare skin between my jeans and my top, I stumbled, despite myself.
Jameson grabbed my hands before I could fall, smirking. "It's a good thing I am here, Heiress, because you seem to have trouble walking by yourself."
"Jameson," I said pointedly. "I'm perfectly capable of walking home alone."
"Well," he said, taking my hands, "would you prefer to be kidnapped by me, or him?" His gaze traveled toward an older man staring directly at me.
He was leaning against the wall of a a middle school, and though kids hurried past him with vigor, his eyes never strayed from mine. I shivered.
Maybe Jameson walking me home wasn't a bad thing after all. People never approached me when my boyfriend was with me. Sure, girls ogled him — but even that was from a distance. These days, even reporters had bored of my life. My story was old now, and new events seemed to trigger the public rather than mine.
"If I'm taking you home," Jameson murmured in my ear, "at least you know I have a surprise for you."
I felt my cheeks heat up. "What kind?"
"Only your favorite." His fingers started teasing my skin again; by the time his hand trailed over my bare lower back, my skin was feverish. His lips met my ear as he murmured, "And you know I never disappoint."
A pleasant shiver rustled down my spine, and Jameson definitely noticed. Smirk apparent, he kissed the sensitive skin behind my ear. Once, then twice. When a third kiss began trailing toward my neck, I gave him a soft shove in the side.
"Jameson."
"Hm?" Nonchalant, my boyfriend guided me around a lamppost and across the following street.
I nudged my head towards the tweens flooding the sidewalks. "There are kids around."
He pressed another kiss against the hollow of my throat. "A valid concern, heiress." His lips strayed to my ear once more. "Shall we resume this, say, in my bedroom?"
Smirking, I reached around his shoulders to straighten his collar. "Maybe if you promise to behave."
"It's funner when I don't." Wagging his eyebrows, Jameson fixed me with his signature stare. Dark, dangerous, brooding.
I pushed him again, this time into a nearby sign. Undeterred, Jameson pushed off and grabbed me with the extra momentum. A laugh bubbled against my chest as he pressed me against the wall of a nearby cafe.
"Let me go, Jameson."
"I would, if you really wanted me to." Kisses touched my lips — some passionate, others fleeting.
"I do."
"You're good at lots of things," Jamie murmured into my ear, "but lying certainly isn't one of them."
I fixed him with a stubborn gaze. "Let. Go."
He sighed, hands still locked on my hips. "Under one condition."
I quirked a brow. "What's that?"
"You're sleeping in my bedroom tonight."
A strange request. We always slept in mine.
"What's so special about your bedroom?" I asked.
He tossed a smug grin at me. "One day, it's going to be ours."
