Because once we step outside this room, once I tell him about my resignation… everything changes. And I’m not ready to lose this version of Reece—playful, tender, and openly affectionate—not when I’ve just discovered it exists.
And then—
DUH-DUH. DUH-DUH.
The movie’s theme song blasts through the speakers—a sign if there ever was one—that Tom Cruise is about to do some dangerous shit.
“This is it, the running scene!”
I turn my attention to the screen where the action hero sprints so fast he’s practically a blur.
“He looks like he’s trying to break the sound barrier.”
“Exactly! And you know he does all his own stunts, right? He doesn’t use a stunt double. He’s all, ‘Nah, I got this. Just hand me some running shoes. I already have the death wish.’”
I can’t help but snicker at this fanboy.
Reece turns, his expression intense. “I can tell you’re not taking this seriously.” Without warning, he pushes the laptop off his legs and springs from the bed as if he’s been launched. “To run like that takes incredible endurance.”
He starts running in place, the movie’s action scene providing the perfect soundtrack to his impromptu demonstration. His form is actually perfect—arms bent at ninety-degree angles, knees lifting high, landing on the balls of his feet.
Suddenly, he takes off, running circles around our sex-disaster of a room. “It takes a consistent stride and strong core engagement to do that sprint for extended periods of time,” he lectures, dodging room service trays and discarded clothing as if they’re obstacles in aMission Impossibletraining course.
“I wonder how that run looks naked?” I suggest, propping myself up on my elbows to better enjoy the show.
The fanboy doesn’t miss a beat, continuing his sprint around the room. Then—because apparently running in circles isn’t dramatic enough—he parkours over the bed in one smooth motion, barely disturbing the sheets.
My stunt boy runs in place, pointing at the screen. “This scene is cinematic history. Watch! Right there, he broke his ankle and kept running! That’s so fucking badass.”
“Would you run on a broken ankle to save me?” I ask, purposely making my voice breathy and flirtatious.
He stops running immediately, his chest heaving from exertion, sweat glistening on his temples. Those blue eyes lock on to mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
“Cam, I could have a bullet in my head and I would keep running and refuse to let my brain accept it until I made it to you. I’d climb mountains, swim oceans, do whatever it takes to keep you safe, to make you happy.”
His voice is so sincere, I want to believe it. Heat grows in his eyes, turning them from ocean blue to midnight, and then—an explosion rocks the laptop screen, making us both jump.
“Oh no!” Reece yells dramatically. “I’ll rescue you!”
I barely blink and he’s scooped me into his arms like I weigh nothing, one arm under my knees and the other supporting my back. My arms curve over his shoulders, and he launches into a run with me clutched to his bare chest.
“Oh no, your clothes are on fire!” he announces with fake panic. “I need to get you out of them immediately—this is an emergency!”
He tosses me onto the mattress and peels my rhino shirt over my head, exposing my naked breasts to the Hawaiian sunshine pouring through our balcony doors.
“Oh thank God,” he says reverently, cradling my breasts in his hands. “They weren’t harmed.” Then he fake cries, complete with exaggerated sobbing noises. “I don’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to you,” he wails, addressing my boobs directly. “Especially you, Ilsa.”
“Seriously, you rescued my breasts? And you named them?”
“Yeah, after the two main heroines in the movie, Ilsa and Julia.” Reece’s eyes widen as he stares at my chest. “Wait Did you hear that voice?” He studies the room in mock confusion. “Where did that come from?”
I roll my eyes hard but I’m smiling.
“Oh no!” he gasps, eyes darting wildly. “Someone else needs to be rescued!”
“Shut up.”
He ignores me, hoisting me higher in his arms and taking off again. This time he runs with exaggerated steps, raised knees, face scrunched in his best Ethan Hunt impression. “We’ve got a situation here! Priority rescue in progress!”
