“Jameson, wait, just wait,” she breathed, gripping onto his shoulders while he pulled at her shirt.

“No,” he replied, moving on to unbutton her shorts. She shoved his hands away.

“I know you want to take me upstairs and ravage me,” she tried to say, their hands fighting with each other.

“No shit. Stop talking.”

“But I had other plans,” she said, holding onto his wrists.

“What other plans? I'm fucking you tonight, I don't give a shit about your plans,” he snapped, yanking free from her.

“Oh, I didn't say we wouldn't be having sex – I definitely want you to fuck me,” she told him, smoothing her hands up his chest.

“Then what the fuck are you talking about?” he demanded. She leaned in close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“I'm talking about tonight. I was thinking that you should fuck me in the ass,” she whispered.

The next second, she was shrieking as Jameson threw her over his shoulder. She laughed uncontrollably as he jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“Jesus, Tate, why didn't you say something earlier!? I would've left that fucking club hours ago!” he complained. She gripped onto his belt.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“A very welcome one. Goddamn, did you get fatter?” he teased, adjusting her weight as he strode down the hall.

“What!? Oh, that's it. Put me down. I'm putting on a onesie and you aren't getting sex for a week!” she yelled at him, but was still laughing.

“Oh, I don't think so. Too late. You already said it, so it's happening,” he replied. As they went through their bedroom door, she shot her arms out, gripping onto the door frame.

“No way. This'll teach you to make fun of me.”

“I don't know why you're still talking, Tate. It's not like you have a say in any of this.”

Then he yanked her free of the door.

~2~

“Wake up.”

Tate groaned and burrowed further under the pillows. But Jameson refused to be ignored and suddenly the mattress was shaking underneath her.

“What!?” she snapped, pushing herself up. “What time is it!?”

“It's eight o'clock. C'mon, get up,” he urged. He was leaning over her, both of his palms flat on the mattress, shoving it up and down.

“Eight!? Jameson, we just went to sleep like two hours ago! Go away,” she groaned, starting to lay back down. But he grabbed her arm, pulling her sideways off the bed.

“No no no, time to get up. I have a surprise for you,” he offered, helping her to stand up.

“I hate surprises,” she complained, but followed as he dragged her to the bathroom.

“You'll like this, I promise,” he assured her.

“Doubtful. I just want to sleep, Jameson. I'm sore in ways you can't even imagine.”

“You'd be surprised.”

Tate snorted.

It was a good surprise, though. Jameson had drawn a bath for her, complete with bubbles and everything. She moaned as he helped her into the sudsy warmth, and she kept moaning till she was chin deep in bubbles. Her eyes were closed, so she wasn't aware that he was joining her till she felt him climbing in the water. It was a huge tub, and he sat at the opposite end, arranging her legs so they were on top of his own.

“Okay, so it's not so bad,” she conceded, and he laughed.

“I thought you'd like it,” he replied, grabbing a sponge and soaping down one of her legs.

“Thank you. But what got into you that you had to do this at eight? I would have loved this at two in the afternoon, when God intended for good human beings to wake up,” she pointed out. He chuckled and started massaging her left foot.

“Because I had something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he started. Tate frowned. Jameson was rarely hesitant, and if he was starting a conversation by doing something nice for her, then she was doubly afraid.

“Oh god. Now I really wish I'd stayed in bed,” she groaned, resting her head back against the porcelain.

“I have some issues that I need to go over with my lawyer,” he informed her.

“So?”

“So, I also need to have my will re-drafted, and there's a business merger I'm looking into,” he went on.

“Still not sure how any of that involves me. Unless you're leaving everything to me in your will. Then I'm very interested,” she joked.

“You wish. It involves you because the lawyer who handles this stuff isn't in the country, and won't be for a while. I have to go to him,” Jameson continued.

“Okay. Bon voyage,” Tate yawned.

“You're coming with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, you're coming -,”

“No, I heard you,” Tate started, sitting up right and looking at him. “What do you mean? Why do I need to go?”

“Because I want you there, I like having you with me when I travel,” he informed her.

“Well, that's awfully sweet of you, but I have a job, Jameson. I have things going on here, I just can't -,” she began rambling.

“It's taken care of.”

“Huh?”

“It's taken care of – I spoke to the bar manager and bartender, they're going to run everything, it'll be fine. You haven't been there that much lately, anyway,” he pointed out. Tate pulled her feet away from him.