Page 27 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)

Darius thrust into him again and again, picking up a rhythm that Jamie desperately tried to match. All Jamie could think about was how this was perfect, exactly what he needed. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, connected so completely.

They changed position, Darius got his hand on Jamie’s cock, stroking him as he moved deep inside him, and Jamie thought he might not last much longer when he caught the dark but tender look in Darius’s eyes.

He reached for any part of him he could grasp, holding his forearms as Darius’s thrusts became erratic. He leaned down, kissing him again and muttering things in his ear that Jamie was nowhere near lucid enough to decipher.

“Jamie, I’m…” He groaned in Jamie’s ear, then he bit into the column of Jamie’s neck as he came. It tipped Jamie over the edge; the last coherent thought he had as his own orgasm took over was that he’d do anything for this man.

Somehow, being with Darius had been so much more all-encompassing. It felt different to anything he’d done before.

Darius’s weight shifted on the bed, and Jamie curled into himself.

That was it then. He was leaving.

Maybe it wasn’t so different after all.

Jamie should have known.

He steeled his heart—this wasn’t real, it could never be. Darius just needed him for now. Well, if mind-blowing sex and the occasional public appearance were all Darius needed from him, fine. He was happy to oblige. He felt tears pooling in the corner of his eyes but willed them away.

Moments later, the bed shifted again, and Darius was gently wiping him down with a warm, damp cloth he must’ve found in the bathroom down the hall. Jamie’s heart lurched, and he quickly wiped his tears as he turned to face him.

“Hey, you.” He smiled at Darius, who pulled him tight to his chest. He felt nice, soft and cocooned in his bed like this.

“Hey, you,” Darius replied, placing a single kiss on Jamie’s shoulder.

It was early in the evening still, but Jamie couldn’t possibly leave the bed. He wanted to stay here with Darius forever, actually. That was feasible, right?

“Do you want to stay for dinner? We could order something?”

It sounded desperate, he knew it did.

“Sorry, I’ve got to get home. Early training.” Darius leaned in to kiss Jamie.

When he pulled away, Jamie had the distinct sensation of the stage lights coming up too soon, and he was still mid-step, exposed. “This was fun,” he said.

Darius tilted his head, a look in his eyes Jamie couldn’t read. “Yeah, fun,” he echoed distantly.

“We could do it again sometime?” Jamie asked. “I mean, I know you’re busy, but just, you know, since we won’t be seeing other people?”

He couldn’t bear the thought of Darius saying no, and when he saw the light dim in his eyes, he panicked. “Or not, if this is just a one-time thing, then that’s fine, I’m fine with that. Totally fine.”

Darius looked at him, and Jamie fidgeted with the duvet. “I know I’m probably not, you know, your type or whatever.”

“Oh yeah, totally not my type,” Darius replied, the strange look in his eyes giving way to a bemused expression that left Jamie confused.

“So you don’t want to?” Jamie asked, his heart shattering into pieces on the floor.

“Jamie, that was fucking brilliant. Of course I do,” Darius replied. “Like you said, fake boyfriends with benefits, right?”

Jamie nodded and surged forward again, pulling a now fully dressed Darius into a filthy kiss before letting him walk out the door. Benefits, yeah. That was fine. He could handle this. He just needed to make sure to keep feelings out of it; he wasn’t going to let himself get hurt again.

Cressida was sitting in the mid-morning sun, dark sunglasses covering her eyes as she nursed a cappuccino. Jamie arrived ten minutes late; it was a habit he was genuinely trying to break. She got up and gave him two air kisses.

“I ordered you a mocha, it’ll be over in a bit.”

“Thank God, I can’t even describe to you how badly I need the chocolate hit right now,” Jamie whinged.

Cressida grinned. “I remembered from tech week: Jamie sans chocolate is a bad idea,” she teased. “I’ve missed you. It was so weird going from seeing everyone like twelve hours a day to zero.”

Jamie nodded. “You get used to it.”

“I guess,” she replied. “I know you’ve been at this longer than me, old man.”

“Yeah, you can tell because you’ve still got that ingénue light in your eyes.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she replied, the clipped vowels of her perfect received pronunciation made Jamie laugh, and think of Darius.

“So, I saw an interesting article the other day,” Cressida said.

“I’m sure I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Jamie tried.

Cressida flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “So, you’re not dating London’s most eligible bachelor then?”

Jamie sighed. “It’s complicated, but no judgement, right?”

Cressida rolled her eyes. “Really, Jamie, you think I’m going to judge anything you say?”

Jamie explained, quietly, careful not to be heard by the women two tables over, the whole fake relationship thing. How it was going to help him clean up his image and maybe generate some decent press for both of them.

“I don’t see why you care so much about what people think. Everyone knows how I landed my next role, but I don’t give a fuck, I’m going to be the one up on that stage at the end of the day.”

“You need to be careful, Cress. There’s a thin line between fun side piece and liability. Trust me, you don’t want your career going tits up like mine. I swear there’s not a producer in London that takes me seriously anymore.”

“So this fake relationship is going to help you look more what? Reliable? Serious?” she asked. “That’s it?”

“We slept together,” Jamie said, taking another sip of his drink.

Cressida lowered her sunglasses. “Good?”

“Fuck, too good, I swear.”

“OK, so you’ve been gallivanting about with a hot professional athlete, who is fucking loaded by the way. You look like a saint in the papers, and you’re getting great sex out of the deal. I don’t see the problem here?”

“It’s not just sex, not for me at least,” Jamie muttered.

Cressida’s eyebrows flew up. “Wait, are you saying, Jamie, are you falling for him?” she teased.

“Ridiculous, right? It’s way too soon, isn’t it? I’m probably just projecting or displaying some sort of, I don’t know…”

“Woah, no way, you really are,” she whispered. “Does he… feel the same?”

“I doubt it, he’s got so much going for him and I’m just… me.”

“Jamie, I adore you, but I really don’t want you to get hurt here. And with the Hewitts being who they are, I don’t know—“

“What do you mean?”

“We are talking about Darius Hewitt, right? Son of Archibald Hewitt, Duke of Cumberland? Professional marathon runner? He’s a Marquess, Jamie.”

Jamie spat out the sip he’d just taken. “Excuse me?”

“Surely you knew he was well off?”

Jamie stared at her. “Well off? Well off? I knew he was posh, okay, I’ve been to his house. I just thought he was posh like you—champagne taste, nannies, and boarding school—not ‘listed in Debrett’s, and building a bunker under the castle for the next revolt’ levels of posh.”

Cressida bit her lip. “But, those articles… You must’ve known?”

“I thought they were being facetious, calling him Lord Hewitt. God, he’s way out of my league, isn’t he?” Jamie slouched down in his chair with a dejected sigh when Cressida didn’t immediately contradict him.

“Maybe, just enjoy it for what it is? You’ve got a few months, right? Enjoy the sex, enjoy the good publicity, but don’t put your heart on the line for this guy, Jamie.”

Jamie nodded. The problem was that it might already be too late for that.