Page 55 of Foreplay with the Boss

She grinned against my lips, and I thought that this was already the perfect day, and we still had a few hours to make it even better.

CHAPTER 31

Kat

How have you never seen any of these TV shows?” I asked Jameson, curling up closer to him on the couch in his living room. I’d never felt so comfortable with someone before, even with guys I’d dated for months. More than that, I felt sexy. Bold. Like a woman who could tell a guy what she wanted and get that and so much more.

“I don’t watch a lot of TV,” he said.

“That’s just sad.” I continued surfing through the options onscreen, going back and forth on whether to start with intense and dramatic or light and funny. “And now it’s on me to pick the perfect series to binge, and that’s a lot of pressure.”

He kissed my cheek, his eyes still on his phone screen. “Just pick whatever you want, babe.”

“Something that’s not your phone is at the top of the list.” I gave a pointed look to his phone, and he glanced from me to it. “I’m just keeping up on emails. If I don’t?—”

“Excuses, excuses. You can take off an afternoon.”

He wrapped a hand around my bare thigh. I’d claimed his soft, comfy T-shirt that smelled like him and had plans to smuggle it out of the house with me. “Between your insatiable sexual appetite—one of my favorite things about you, for the record—and taking off most of yesterday, I’ve left too many emails unanswered, and it’ll be crazy when I go in tomorrow.”

“I’ll help you with the crazy tomorrow, as long as you ditch the phone, sit back, and watch a TV show with me. I’m super fun and cuddly, so really this is win-win for you.”

A smile spread across his face. “You are super fun and cuddly.”

“Aw, thanks. It’s almost like I fed the compliment right to you.”

“You’re also sexy as hell, not to mention smart, and funny, and sweet.”

“Better.” I took the phone out of his hand, put it on silent, and then set it on the stand farthest from him. Then I snuggled back up to him and hit play.

When he laughed at the opening scene and kept on laughing throughout the first episode, I knew I’d picked right.

We were four or so episodes in when my eyelids grew heavy and my blinks kept getting longer and longer.

Jameson reclined back against the armrest of the couch, bringing me with him, and I drifted off to the sound of his low laughter, the feel of his hard body, and his fingers dragging up and down my spine.

Waking up from my impromptu nap didn’t go near as smoothly, a loud, piercing noise jolting me out of a pleasant dream about a guy who was tangible and underneath me. I squinted one eye, trying to reduce the amount of light assaulting my senses. “Jameson?”

He grunted, and as I pushed up, I realized he’d fallen asleep, too. The TV screen now had a message asking if we were still watching—usually I felt like it was judging how many hours I’d spent watching, but this time, it was actually more handy than annoying.

The loud noise sounded again, and I was now awake enough to process that it was the doorbell. Then Jameson’s phone started ringing on the side table I’d banished it to.

“What time is it?” he asked. I handed him his phone, and he said, “Shit. My mom.”

“I’m coming in,” a voice called, followed by the sound of a key sliding into the lock.

“Shit,” I said, noticing I was still just wearing Jameson’s T-shirt—at least I had on some panties, unlike this morning, but since said panties were of the thong variety, it wasn’t like they offered a whole lot of coverage.

All I could do was clutch the shirt tighter around me as the door swung open. In walked a polished woman who I assumed must be Jameson’s mom. Her blond hair was cut in an asymmetrical bob and she wore a wrap dress that showed off her figure.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Jameson said, standing up. He didn’t have a shirt on, but he at least had the benefit of boxer briefs. “We were watching TV and fell asleep, and?—”

“You were watching TV?”

“It’s weird that he doesn’t usually, right?” I asked before my brain could say hey dummy, this is sort of an A and B conversation so why don’t you C yourself out of it. Or C yourself to never jump into it—anyway, now she was staring at me, the surprise in her expression clear. I put a hand over my face. “Sorry. Just pretend I’m not here, wearing only your son’s shirt.”

“I think that’s enough helping, Kat,” Jameson said, but he said it lightly, with a note of teasing. He took my hand, pulled me to my feet, and wrapped an arm around me. “Mom, this is Kat. Kat, my mom, Angela Stone.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, but I think she was going into shock or something because she just continued to stare.

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