Page 26 of Run For Me (Until You’re Mine Duet #1)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sailor

I wake up to a text from JT, not a message in Surge.

It’s another picture, this one of him standing in front of a tall mirror, allowing me to see his whole body.

Every tanned, muscled inch… Well, except his face and the small bits his black boxer briefs are covering.

They’re so tight they leave nothing to the imagination.

On his head is a motorcycle helmet, a plain black one that covers his entire head and face. I can’t even see the color of his hair or his jaw line.

His body is… jeeze, he’s so hot.

His abs are defined, shoulders broad, arms cut and forearms thick, covered in tattoos.

There’s dark hair on his chest, trailing down his belly button, disappearing beneath the fabric of his briefs, and I can imagine how dark his hair is around…

there. His waist is lean, legs thick. The guy is too hot for words. It’s surreal. He looks fake.

Would I recognize him if I saw him on campus?

I huff out a laugh. Yeah, maybe if he walked around like this, practically naked.

I’d recognize his body, there’s no doubt in my mind.

But covered in clothing? I smile wide. I’ll never know who he is.

Not without seeing his face. It’s fall and only growing colder.

He’ll be wearing layers of clothing, hiding that delicious body beneath them all.

Maybe during the spring and summer, I could recognize his tattoos, but so many people have them nowadays that unless I get a closeup of them, I may not.

Do all the girls in school stare at him? Do they know what’s beneath his clothing?

There’s a text with the photo that says “For my contact. Since you have my number and all.”

I smirk, an idea popping into my head.

One of my favorite things to do when working with a new client is researching.

I love looking at all types of digital artwork to pull ideas from and form my own.

Recently, one of the clients I was working with wanted a sexy woman for her book cover, and that lead me down a rabbit hole of boudoir shoots.

There was a position I saw women sitting in over and over again.

One that shouldn’t be too difficult to replicate by myself.

I kick around the clothes on the floor, moving them out of the way so it doesn’t look like a complete disaster in here.

Then I get naked and sit on the floor, thankful for the carpet and not having to sit on cold wood.

I cross my ankles and bend my knees, fidgeting with the camera and the way my legs rest so it covers my intimate parts, but still shows enough that it’ll be a nice tease.

I don’t hate my body, not when it’s just me. I know it’s decent, I just don’t like showing it off to everyone. Or to anyone, really.

I take so many photos, trying every angle to get the best shot. It takes me another ten minutes just to go through them and decide which I want to send, and before I can think too much of it, I send it to him with the exact message he sent me. And I get a response back almost immediately.

JT: Are you trying to kill me?

Me: I was just being fair…

JT: Well, this isn’t fair at all. You don’t have to walk around with a hard-on like I do.

Me: Maybe you should do something about that.

JT: Like this?

Another photo comes in, one of his hand over the outline of his dick in his jeans, squeezing.

Holy mother of gods, this man!

Me: Now that’s not fair.

JT: Meet up with me and I’ll show you fair.

Me: When?

JT: This weekend.

This weekend? That’s so soon…

Am I ready for all of this to happen that quickly? We’ve been chatting for only a few weeks. I have no idea who he is. Do I really want to lose my virginity to someone I don’t know?

Yes, I kind of do.

The thought has an ache forming between my legs.

He could be a serial killer…

Agreeing to meet up with him won’t change that. He has all of my information and could come here on his own just as easily.

Me: Okay.

JT: Really?

Me: Yes.

JT: Saturday, 10pm, Brennan Park. Walk down the path to the hiking trails, but don’t go into the woods until 10:10.

I look over his instructions. They seem simple enough. Yeah, I can do that. I want to do that.

Me: I’ll be there.

JT: Make sure to wear something you don’t have an attachment to.

My lips part at the thought of hands tearing my clothes off. Literally ripping them to pieces like an animal. I close my eyes and grin at the imagery in my head… it’s so good.

I put my phone down to get ready for class before I’m late. Mondays truly are the worst, and I have no idea why I chose morning classes any day, but especially on Mondays.

Something hits me then.

I lost my journal on a Monday. In one of my first two classes. He found it.

Meaning, he’s likely in one of those classes.

Crap, how did I not realize that before? They’re both held in auditoriums with at least a hundred students, if not more. I doubt I’d be able to pick him out, but maybe I could.

Do I want to?

Part of me does. A bigger part of me doesn’t. I love not knowing, but I am curious.

Surprisingly, I leave the house in enough time to stop for a coffee on the way to school, and when I pull into the parking lot, I find myself looking around for motorcycles but find none.

Does he have the helmet because he rides a motorcycle?

Did it belong to someone else? Would he even ride it, knowing he’s given me that bit of information about him?

Once I get to class, I take my usual seat in the back and pull my things out. My gaze wanders around the class and I take in the people sitting around. No one looks this way. No one pays me any mind. If he’s here, he isn’t making it obvious.

I’m reading a book on my phone as I wait for class to begin when it dings with a text from Amelia.

Amelia: Dinner tonight?

It’s been a while since we’ve hung out, but we’ve chatted at least every other day. She’s sweet and I like her. Not enough to open up about everything, but enough to be okay with hanging out with her.

Me: 6 good? What are you thinking?

Amelia: 6 is perfect. I need something greasy today. It was a loooooong weekend!

Me: Oh no… tell me all about it later. How about The Burger Joint?

Amelia: I plan to! I’ll see you there at 6.

I can only imagine what she got up to this weekend.

The girl is not used to having the freedom to do what she wants.

The complete opposite of me who craves the limits of rules.

I’ve never had rules, not when my parents were around and not after they died.

A mix between being pitied and the depression my mother fell into.

Then my grandparents spoiled me and didn’t set limits, obviously more pity.

Kids crave rules. They want to know they’re safe and protected by someone more responsible.

I never felt that. Never. Maybe that’s why I am the way I am…