Jesus, I want to kiss her again.

But I think she needs a friend more than anything, and damn if I don’t like her. When she forgets to keep those walls erected around her and loosens up a bit she’s funny as hell and fun to talk with.

And it’s certainly not a hardship to watch her run in her little yoga pants and tank. She has a strong, lean body.

I wonder what those legs would feel like wrapped around my waist.

“Every day is a weekend, Leo,” she responds dryly, bringing me out of my fantasy. “But I think I’m meeting up with Nat and Jules for coffee tomorrow afternoon.”

“You don’t drink coffee.”

She laughs; her big blue eyes light up and she wrinkles her adorable nose at me. “You clearly don’t understand the girl definition of having coffee.”

“Enlighten me.” We’re both starting to breathe heavily now. When we started this on Monday I was sure that our little runs wouldn’t challenge me, but Sam is a strong runner.

“We’ll meet at a coffee shop, buy a beverage, and gossip for a few hours.”

“What do you talk about?” I ask, although I really don’t care. I just want to hear that sexy, raspy voice of hers.

“I can’t tell you that. It’s girl stuff.”

“C’mon, I won’t tell anyone. Swear.” I cross my heart and grin down at her.

“Nope.” She shakes her head and smiles some more.

“Fine. Then I won’t tell you my gossip.” I shrug nonchalantly and grin.

“What gossip?” She asks.

“Not telling.”

“Fine.” She shrugs and glances at me from the corner of her eye, trying to hold a smile in. Finally, she laughs and shoves me in the shoulder. “You don’t have any gossip, you jerk.”

Before I can respond, my toe catches on a raised portion of the sidewalk and I feel myself pitch forward, face-first onto the sidewalk.

“Shit!”

My knee catches the most grief from the fall, and I roll out of it and back onto my feet.

“Are you okay?” Sam grips my upper arms in her strong, little hands, her eyes wide and worried, searching my face, panting.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

“I’m fine. No big.” Her eyes take a journey down my body and she gasps when she sees my knee.

“No you’re not! You’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a scrape, Sam.”

“You’re bleeding,” she repeats and squats in front of me, examining the tiny scrape. I didn’t even know it was there until she said something.

“It doesn’t hurt. Come on, let’s keep running.”

“No way, I’m taking you home and patching you up. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to push you that hard.” She stands and her eyes find mine again, her brows pulled together in a frown.

I laugh and run my thumb over her frown lines, ignoring her little flinch. “I’m fine.”

“Come on. Run’s over.” She takes my hand and turns us back toward her apartment, walking quickly.

Could she be any more adorable?

We reach her building, and for the first time this week, she leads me in with her, waves at the doorman and pulls me into the elevator.

“This is a nice building,” I comment, watching her face.

I can’t get enough of her face.

“Yeah, I like it.”

She’s suddenly digging around in her bra, and unfastens her key from her tight sports bra.

“I do love your storage system.” And I want to dig around in there.

Sam smirks and leads me to her apartment.

I am not prepared for Sam’s apartment.

The space is open and surprisingly big. Light. There are large windows, offering in plenty of sunshine.

I smirk to myself. Appropriate.

But instead of the modern, sleek, cold home I was expecting, I’m met with big, inviting furniture in reds and blues, plants and flowers, fashion magazines on the coffee table, her laptop closed on the couch. There is a gas fireplace in the corner and filmy white curtains on the windows. A piano pushed upright against the far wall.

She plays?

“Come on in. We’ll go back to the master bathroom, that’s where my first aid kit is.” She smiles and throws her key in a bowl by the door.

“This is a great place.”

Her smile is wide and as inviting as her home. “Thank you.”

“Did you decorate it yourself?” It’s so feminine and sweet.

Like her.

“Yeah, it’s all me.” She laughs and looks around with me. She takes my hand in hers and leads me down a hallway, through her bedroom, all full of soft pillows and fluffy bedding and more reds and grays and white.

Her bathroom is the same. Soft and pretty, but not disgustingly so. It’s comfortable.

“Sit on the side of the tub and I’ll grab my stuff.” She turns her back to me, unzips and removes her pink hoodie, leaving a skin-tight tank over her yoga pants.

My hands clench into fists at my hips on the tub. Fuck, I want to touch her, cup her ass in my hands, push my face between her legs. She turns back to me, her hands full of supplies.

“Okay, this could sting a little,” she bites her lower lip and looks up at me as she squats in front of me, just inches from me. “I’m sorry.”

“Sam, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt. It’s stopped bleeding.”

“I don’t want it to get infected. I’ll just clean it up.” She starts gently rubbing it with a warm cloth, cleaning the blood that has already begun to dry on my shin. Her sweet blonde head is bowed over me, concentrating on her task.

And my cock is stirring with every little touch from those amazing white-tipped fingers.

She grips my calf firmly in one hand to steady me, and I flinch, imagining her gripping my dick in the same way.

“Did I hurt you?” She backs away, eyes wide and glances up at me with worry.

“No, sorry.”

“I don’t think you need a Band-Aid or anything.”

“No, I don’t think so,” I murmur and chuckle. “See? It’s no big deal.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” she mutters.

“Sam, I’m fine. I’ve had much worse, trust me.” She sets the cloth aside, and I take her hands in mine before she can stand and move away. I like having her this close.

She smells fucking amazing.

“Why do you flinch when I touch you?” I murmur and tilt her chin back to look her in the eye. She frowns and a light pink blush moves over her cheeks. I run my fingers down her face and trace her bottom lip with my thumb. “Tell me. I enjoy touching you.”