Page 169 of The Off-Limits Play

“Good job, kitten.” Carson rubs my back, not even out of breath.

I nod, sucking in air like my life depends on it.

Checking his watch, he lets me know that we ran “Exactly half a mile. Boston’s gonna be a breeze.”

I laugh and shake my head, rubbing my leg with a wince. “I can’t even do the math right now on how many more half miles I have to run to complete a marathon.”

“You’ll get there.” Catching me around the waist, he lifts me off my feet. “And I’ll be beside you every step of the way.”

I smile, then lean forward and kiss him, saying thanks without actually saying it.

He glides his tongue along mine before slowly pulling back and murmuring, “Now, about that shower.”

With a giggle, I nip his bottom lip and am about to suggest we wait until Jolie’s gone down for breakfast when I spot something out of the corner of my eye.

I turn to look, curiosity getting the better of me. “Is that Wily?”

Carson spins, still holding me, and I have to look back over my shoulder.

“Yeah. Who’s he talking to?”

Eyeing up the girl who must only come up to his chest, I fight a grin, watching the way her round face goes beet red as he talks down to her.

“He doesn’t look very happy,” Carson murmurs. “Are his eyebrows actually dipping together?”

“He definitely doesn’t like what she’s saying to him.”

Carson pops me onto the ground, watching his friend with a look of concern. “Do you think he needs help?”

“Let’s just see how this plays out,” I say, stopping him. “It’s not like he’s gonna go all Hulk and start hitting her or anything, right?”

“I wanna know who she is and why she’s upsetting him.”

“Me, too, but just give it a second.” I hold his arm, silently encouraging my boyfriend to stay put.

He gives in with a sigh, crossing his arms and still watching the argument between what looks like David and Goliath.

It’s almost comical watching the muscular giant arguing with a woman who appears to be about my age and nearly half his height.

“She’s definitely not his type. It can’t be a one-night stand gone wrong,” Carson mutters.

“Why is she not his type?” I nudge him with my elbow. “Because she’s curvy?”

“She’s more than curvy.” Carson throws me a look.

“Oh, stop it. She’s voluptuous. And Wily might be into that. Some guys really love a woman who’s shapely.”

Carson scoffs. “Wily gets it on with girls who look like they should be on the cover ofSports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition. I’m telling you, the guy can have the pick of the bunch, and whoever this girl is that’s making him frown is not the type he would have taken to bed last night.”

“Well, they obviously know each other.”

“Yeah, but from where?”

“I don’t know, but—” I gasp, quickly spinning when Wily’s eyes start to track toward us.

Carson turns, too, trying to look like we weren’t just spying on him.

He doesn’t seem to notice us, obviously too riled by whatever the girl is saying. With a flick of his arm, he barks out one last thing I can’t hear and turns on his heel, storming away.

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