Page 70 of Happy Hour

“I’m sorry...I’m...” his thick gruff voice trailed off while he tried to reach between us.

I knew what he was trying to do.

Capturing his hand with my own, I placed it back on my ass. “Only you,” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I brought his mouth to mine.

That’s all the encouragement he needed. He threw his head back and it was glorious, probably one of the best five minutes of my entire life.

Afterwards, Jameson stayed there for a moment panting and kissing my lips, jaw, neck, and then my shoulders. “That was—”

“Amazing,” I finished for him.

“I’ll say.” He smirked. “That wasn’t very good for you though.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He looked surprised. “Huh?”

“Thatwashot!” I clarified pointing to the mirror behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder and then shook his head in amusement. “I feel...like I should charge you for that now.”

“I feel like I should pay you for it.” I agreed and we both started laughing.

I looked around for my underwear while Jameson put his clothes back on. I found them on the nightstand but again, they were ripped.

“Jameson,” I held up the shredded underwear. “Stop doing this. I don’t have any more underwear here.”

He chuckled putting his Simplex hat on. “Ah...it looks like Emma needs to take you shopping.”

“I hate you for doing that to me.” I grumbled in frustration.

The last thing I wanted to do was go shopping withEmma. I loved her but not enough to go anywhere near a department store, of any kind, with her.

“You don’t hate me,” He pulled me against his chest, his breathing still uneven. “I just gave you afreeshow.”

“Whatever.” I sulked pulling away to put my jeans on without underwear.

Jameson watched me closely. “You’re seriously out of underwear?”

“Yes you asshole!” I held up the pieces of the black pair from last night. “These were the last pair since you ripped the other ten pairs I brought.”

“You can’t go commando.” He stated firmly, as though itwasn’tan option.

“What the hell do you expect me to do?”

His fingers raked through his hair. “I don’t know.” He threw his arms up. “I won’t be able to concentrate if I know you have no underwear on. Put something on.”

I was silent for a moment trying to think. “Fine, leave and then you won’t know if I put some on or not.”

He shook his head violently. “No, no, no,” he quickly disagreed. “That makes it worse. Then I’ll spend the entire race wondering if you’re wearing any or not. You have to put something on.”

“My god Jameson,” I yelled and stomped over to his dresser to pull out a pair of his boxer briefs and slid them on. “Happy now?”

“Immensely,”

We left the motor coach after that, Jamesonimmenselyhappy, and me sporting his underwear.

As with any race weekend, the time just wasn’t there and soon race activities were in full swing.

---