Текст книги "Beneath This Man"

Автор книги: Jodi Ellen Malpas

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

He can’t be so thick-skinned he has to ask that question. It should be perfectly obvious why I don’t want to go. And anyway, I never really wanted to go before I knew what went on there, but that was because of a certain acid tongued, pouty lipped beast. Now, she doesn’t bother me so much, although we still haven’t discussed her little involvement in Jesse’s life. It’s yet another subject up for discussion.

‘Can you just give me some time to get used to it?’ I ask apprehensively, while mentally begging for him to understand and be reasonable.

He sighs and wraps his forearm around the tops of my shoulders, pulling me back to him. ‘I understand,’

He does?

He kisses my temple. ‘You’re not going to avoid it forever, are you? I still want my new bedroom designs.’

I’m in shock at his reasonableness. No questions, no trampling or sense fuck – just an okay? Have we turned a corner? This is good, and as for the new extension? I hadn’t given it a thought, but he’s right. I can’t avoid the place forever. ‘No. Anyway, I’ll have to come to oversee the works once we finalise the designs.’

‘Good,’

‘What’s going on at The Manor?’

He releases my shoulders and starts washing my hair with his men’s shampoo. ‘The police turned up last night.’ he says, totally detached.

I tense all over. ‘Why?’

‘It’s just some idiot playing games. The police rang John this morning to arrange a few interviews. I can’t get out of it.’ He turns me around and places me under the spray to rinse my hair. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ I assure him. I won’t tell him why it’s fine. I can meet Dan without worrying about a Jesse style trample. ‘Kate was at The Manor last night.’ The concern in my voice is obvious.

‘I know,’ His eyebrows rise. ‘It was quite a surprise.’

‘Was she okay?’

‘Yes, she was fine,’ He kisses my nose and slaps my bum. ‘Out you get.’

I jump out of the shower, set about drying myself and use Jesse’s toothbrush after he’s finished with it, being too lazy to cross the landing and retrieve my own. I walk into the bedroom to find him ready, looking delicious in some worn jeans and a simple white t-shirt. He’s still quite overgrown, though.

‘I’m going,’ He smothers my face with kisses. ‘Have lace on when I get home.’ He winks and leaves.

I waste no time. I grab my phone immediately to call Dan, and we arrange to meet at Almundo’s, a little coffee house in Covent Garden. I run across the landing and dress in record time, calling down to Clive to order me a cab between drying my hair and pinning it up. I’m super excited.

Chapter 6

When I walk into Almundo’s, I scan my eyes across the masses of people having their Sunday morning brunch and spot him sat in the corner with his face in the Sunday paper. He looks so well, all tanned and dazzling. I fly across the café and all but dive on him.

‘Whoa!’ he laughs. ‘Pleased to see me, kid?’ He wraps his arms around me, and I fall apart all over him. I’m so happy to see him and all of the built up stress and emotion of the last few weeks just spills out of me…again. ‘Hey, stop that.’ he scolds me.

‘I’m sorry.’ I peel myself away from his body and sit beside him.

He takes my hand in his. ‘Get rid of those tears, right now.’ He smiles. ‘This will be the best thing that ever happened to you. You’re well shot.’

Oh, he thinks I’m in a state over Matt? Should I let him carry on thinking that? The alternative is explaining a whole lot of other shit, and I can’t do that. I would be here for months. I wipe my eyes. ‘I know. It’s been a shitty few weeks. I’m fine, really.’

‘Forget about him and get on with your life. You’ve got a lot to catch up with.’ He rubs my arm affectionately. ‘What about this other bloke who Matt’s been whining on about?’

Damn, I was hoping to avoid all questions relating to Jesse’s involvement – wishful thinking, obviously. ‘His name is Jesse. It’s nothing. He’s just a friend.’

‘Just a friend?’ He eyes me suspiciously as my hand reaches up to find a stray tendril from my up-do.

‘Just a friend.’ I shake my head. ‘Kate had a spat with Matt and thought she would shut him up with a few stretched truths.’

‘So, there is an element of truth in it then?’ He raises his eyebrows.

‘No,’ I need to change the subject. ‘How are Mum and Dad?’

He gives me a warning look. ‘Threatening to pay a visit to London and sort you out. Mum mentioned a strange man answering your phone last week. I suspect he might be the stretched truth?’

Okay, my attempts at diversion have failed miserably. ‘Yeah, okay. Can we change the subject please?’ I sound ratty.

Dan holds his hands up in defense. ‘Okay, okay. I’m just saying, be careful, Ava.’

I sag and consider exactly what my parents will make of Jesse. Without even The Manor and his small drink issue, they still won’t be happy. He is obviously older than me, he might be stinking rich, but that won’t cut any cloth with Mum and Dad, and the fact that he likes a trample every now and again will not help matters. It’s near on impossible to hide my frustration when he’s being challenging. Mind you, his quick acceptance of my reluctance to go with him this morning might be the breakthrough I’ve been waiting for.

We order coffee, water and pastries and chat about Dan’s job, Australia and his future prospects. He’s doing well. His friend is expanding the surf school business and wants Dan to partner him. I’m pleased for him, but quietly disappointed for my own selfish reasons. He won’t be coming home anytime soon.

‘How’s Kate?’ he asks, while picking at the corners of his pastry. He’s blatantly feigning disinterest.

I should refrain from mentioning Sam. I can’t imagine Dan would appreciate such information. I abruptly remember I’ve not taken my pill and start rummaging through my bag. ‘She’s still Kate.’ I say casually, feeling incredibly uncomfortable talking about her with Dan. It doesn’t feel right anymore. I locate my pill packet and pop one out before taking it with some water, watching over my glass as Dan drops into deep thought. I need to snap him out of that immediately. ‘What about you? Are there any female interests?’ I ask on an arched brow, swapping my water for coffee.

‘No,’ He smirks, ‘Nothing permanent, anyway.’

Oh, I can imagine. I’m about to lecture him on being a player when my mobile starts dancing around the table and Temper Trap’s Sweet Disposition blares from the ringer. I smile. Is he trying to be funny? And while I’m grateful he has changed the track assigned to his number, I really do need to have a word about his telephone manners.

It’s just gone one o’clock. I thought he would be longer than this, but maybe he’s still at The Manor and just checking in on me.

‘Hey, I love that track!’ Dan exclaims. ‘Let it ring.’ He starts singing along to it.

I laugh. ‘I just need to take this.’ I leave the table with my phone and Dan with a furrowed brow. I know he’s going to be suspicious that I’m removing myself from his presence to take this call. I’ll say it was Kate.

I walk out into the sunshine. ‘Hey.’ I say cheerfully.

‘Where the fuck are you?’ he bellows down the phone.

I pull it away to save my eardrums. Oh, overreaction. ‘I’m with my brother, calm down.’

‘Calm down?’ he yells. ‘I get home and you’ve ran out!’

‘Stop fucking shouting!’ Is this really necessary? The man is impossible. I never said I was going to be waiting around for him. Jesus Christ, I’m hurling towards the ground after being abruptly tossed off of Central Jesse Cloud Nine.

‘Watch your fucking mouth.’ he yells.

I look up to the sky in despair. ‘I’ve not ran out. I’ve come to meet my brother. He’s back from Australia.’ I state calmly. ‘I was supposed to see him yesterday, but I got a little caught up elsewhere.’ I didn’t aim for sarcasm, but it comes naturally.

‘I apologise for inconveniencing you.’ he hisses.

‘Excuse me?’ I’m stunned by his hostility.

‘How long will you be?’ His tone hasn’t changed; he still sounds like a pig. I might just go to Kate’s now. I’m not prepared to have strips ripped off me for seeing my brother.

‘I said I would spend the day with him.’

‘Day!’ he shouts. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Why? Because I knew he would trample it! ‘Your phone interrupted me and you were sidetracked with problems at The Manor.’ I spit.

It goes quiet down the phone, but I can still hear his laboured breathing. I can imagine he’s been running around his penthouse in a frenzy searching every room. Oh hell, this is going to be hard work. That corner I thought we had turned has just been trampled.

‘Where are you?’ His voice has softened slightly, but he’s clearly still unhappy about my undisclosed outing.

‘I’m at a café.’

‘Where?’

There is not a chance in hell I’m telling him that. He’ll turn up, I know it, and then I will be left explaining to Dan who he is and where he came from. ‘It doesn’t matter where. I’ll be back at yours later.’

‘Come back to me, Ava.’ It’s definitely a demand.

I drop my shoulders. ‘I will.’

A silence spreads between us and I’m very abruptly reminded of the small part of Jesse that sends me crazy. Did I really wish this back?

‘Ava?’

‘I’m here.’

‘I love you.’ he says softly, but it’s strained. I know he wants to rant and probably haul me back to Lusso, but he can’t do that if he can’t locate me.

‘I know you do, Jesse.’ I hang up and exhale an exhausted breath. I’m beginning to wish I didn’t know about Jesse’s alcohol issue – the issue that everyone else seems to be brushing off as no consequence, whatsoever. I, on the other hand, am now worrying myself stupid that I will push him to have another gorging session. I’ve always been an advocate of knowledge is power, but at the moment I’m favouring ignorance is bliss.  Then, I could just hang up and think he’s an unreasonable control freak and be content to let him stew. But now I know, I’ve hung up and I’m worried that I’ve just dangled the proverbial bottle of vodka under his nose.

‘Is everything okay?’

I turn and see Dan approaching with my bag over his shoulder. I give a small smile. ‘Fine.’

‘I settled the bill. Here.’ He hands me my bag.

‘Thanks.’

‘Are you all right?’ He frowns.

No, I‘m bloody not. The stretched truth is stretching my patience. ‘Yeah, fine.’ I plaster on a cheery face. ‘So, what do you want to do?’

‘Tussauds?’ he asks with a big smile.

I return his smile. ‘Absolutely, let’s go.’

He holds his arm up for me to link and off we go. I’ve lost count of the amount of times we’ve roamed the halls of Madam Tussaud’s. It’s tradition. There is not one waxwork that we haven’t got a photo with. We’ve snuck around the place, entered restricted zones and done whatever it took to get the photographs we needed to keep our scrapbook up-to-date. Childish, but it’s our thing.

We have an amazing day. I’ve laughed so much my cheeks ache. As it turns out, the only new waxworks’ in Tussaud’s are royalty. I had a photo with William and Kate, and Dan was captured squeezing The Queen’s boobs. We had dinner at our favourite Chinese in China Town and a few cheeky wines in a bar. I felt slightly guilty when I took my first sip, but I could hardly ask for water – Dan would have asked why. Besides, once I got the first glass down, the second was easier.

I hug Dan tight as we say our goodbyes at the tube. ‘When are you going back?’ I ask.

‘Not for a few weeks. I’m going up to Manchester tomorrow to catch up with some university friends, but I’m back in London next Sunday so I’ll see you again before I leave, okay?’

I release him from my squeeze. ‘Okay. Call me as soon as you’re back in London.’

‘I will, take care, yeah?’ He kisses me on the cheek. ‘I’m on my mobile if you need me.’

‘Okay.’ I smile. He’s worried.

He strides off and leaves me wishing he could stay forever. I’ve never needed him so much.

As I enter the foyer of Lusso, Clive is on the telephone. I walk straight past his desk on my way to the lift. I really don’t feel like chatting.

‘Thank you, goodbye. Ava!’ he shouts after me, and I stop and roll my eyes before turning to face him.

‘Yes?’

He shoves the phone into its cradle and hurries towards me. ‘A lady stopped by. I tried calling up to Mr Ward, but he didn’t answer. I’m afraid I couldn’t let her up. Mature woman.’

 ‘A lady?’ I ask. He’s got my attention now.

‘Yes, nice woman with blonde wavy hair. She said it was urgent, but of course, you know the rules.’ He raises his eyebrows.

Oh yes, I know the rules and for once I’m relieved he has stuck to the rules. Blonde, wavy hair? Not Sarah, surely. ‘How mature?’

He shrugs. ‘Mid-forties.’

Okay. I don’t like Sarah but she definitely doesn’t look like she’s in her forties. ‘What time was this, Clive?’

He looks at his watch. ‘Only half an hour ago.’

‘Did she give her name?’

He frowns. ‘No, she didn’t. I met her at the gate. She was expecting to go straight up to the penthouse, but when I wouldn’t let her through and said I would have to call Mr Ward, she started getting a bit vague with me.’

‘No worries, Clive. Thanks.’ I pivot and carry on towards the elevators.

I board the lift and punch in the code. A lady? And a vague lady who thought she could march up to the penthouse unannounced?

The elevators doors open and I step out to find Jesse’s front door open. Does this man have no regard for home security? Granted, he has a twenty four hour concierge downstairs to monitor the comings and goings, and a team of security, but a bit of common sense wouldn’t go a miss. I shut the door behind me and instantly feel on my guard. The sound system is playing. It’s not as ear piercing as last time, but it’s the track playing that has me on edge. It’s the same one I walked in to last Sunday when I found Jesse drunk.

Angel.

I run through the penthouse, leaving the music on. Finding Jesse is more important than turning off the tormenting song which reminds me of that awful day. I head straight for the terrace, but he’s not there. I dump my bag and take the stairs two at a time and bolt into the bedroom. Nothing. Where is he?

Panic starts to flood me, but then I hear the shower running. I fly into the bathroom and come to an abrupt stop when I see Jesse sat on the floor of the shower, naked except for a pair of running shorts that are soaking wet and clinging to his thighs. His back is against the cold tiled wall, his knees pulled up and his arms resting on top of them. His head in slumped as the water crashes down around him.

As if he senses I’m here, he lifts his head and meets my gaze. He smiles mildly, but he can’t hide the torture in his eyes. How long has he been like this? I exhale a long breath of relief, mixed with a little exasperation, before walking straight into the shower fully clothed and settling myself in his lap, wrapping my arms and legs around his soaking body.

He buries his head in my neck. ‘I love you.’

‘I know you do. How many laps did you do?’ He has done this before. He runs circles around the Royal Parks to distract himself…from me.

‘Three.’

‘That’s too much.’ I scold him. We’re talking twenty miles here. It’s not a quick jog around the park to alleviate some stress. His body is not strong enough for this at the moment.

‘I freaked out when you weren’t here.’

‘I kind of got that.’ I say with only a light dash of sarcasm. He shifts his hands to my hips and tweaks my hipbone. I jerk.

‘You should have told me.’ he says sternly.

Perhaps I should have, but he probably would’ve trampled it, and he can’t be running a marathon every time we’re apart. ‘I was always coming back,’ I assure him. ‘I can’t be joined at your hip.’

He exhales on a long breath and snuggles deeper into the crook of my neck. ‘I wish you bloody could be.’ he grumbles. ‘You’ve had a drink.’

I suddenly feel awkward, uneasy. ‘Have you eaten?’ I ask, not knowing what else to say. He’s probably burnt off a million calories running like Forrest Gump.

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You need to eat, Jesse.’ I moan. ‘I’ll make you something.’

He tightens his grip on me. ‘Soon, I’m comfy.’

So, I let him be comfy for a while. I sit on his lap, my dress clinging to my body, my hair sopping wet, and just let him hold me. It can’t be like this every time we’re apart, I’ll never settle. We most certainly haven’t turned a corner, and I’m sorely disappointed. What happens now?

‘I hate this song.’ I say quietly, after we’ve sat in a tight clinch for an age.

‘I love it. Reminds me of you.’

‘It reminds me of a man I don’t like.’ I never want to hear it again.

‘I’m sorry.’ He nips at my neck, drawing his tongue up the length to my jawbone. ‘My arse is dead.’ he mumbles.

It’s the longest shower I’ve ever had. ‘I’m comfy.’ I mock. He moves his hand and grasps my hipbone, causing me to flinch and yelp. ‘Stop!’ I cry. ‘I need to feed you!’

‘Yes, you do. And I want my Ava, stripped naked and laying on our bed so I can binge on her.’ He stands himself up with me wrapped around his body, and with little effort, considering his injured hand and depleted body.

My Ava? That’s fine. Our bed? I will file that away for now.

‘I’m all for that, but I need to feed my man.’ I’ve already caused him to run himself into the ground with no fuel in his body. I’m not going to be the cause of him starving to death as well. ‘Food now, loving later.’

‘Loving now, food later.’ he challenges as he walks us out of the shower and positions me on the vanity unit.

‘I’m feeding you. End of.’ I inform him sternly. I mean it. ‘Where’s your bandage?’ I ask.

‘End of, ah?’ He picks a bath sheet up from the pile on the shelf and starts rubbing the wetness from my hair with his good hand. It could do with a shampoo and condition. ‘It was getting in my way.’ He brushes off my worry.

I start to shiver, my clinging dress rubbing on the goose bumps that are engulfing me. Jesse drapes the towel around my back and uses the corners to pull me into him, kissing me hard on the lips. I catch him wince.

‘Yes, end of. My man is rubbing off on me.’

‘Your man wants to rub onto you.’ he whispers, pushing his groin into my thigh and taking my mouth gently.

‘Please, let me feed you.’

He pulls back on a little pout. ‘Okay, food now, loving later.’

Another submission? This certainly is progress. Nothing usually gets in the way of him taking me wherever and however he pleases. ‘How’s your hand?’ I ask.

He flicks his eyes to his fist that’s clenching the corner of the towel. ‘Not bad. I was a good boy and put some ice on it.’

‘You brave boy!’

He smirks and nuzzles our noses, then kisses my forehead. ‘Come on, you need some dry clothes.’ He goes to lift me off the unit, but I brush him away. ‘Hey.’ He scowls at me.

‘Your hand. It’s never going to heal if you’re hoofing me all over the place.’ I jump down, kick my sodden ballet pumps off and undo the side zip of my dress before pulling it over my head.  I’m then thrown up over his shoulder and carried out of the bathroom.

‘I like hoofing you about.’ he declares, chucking me onto the middle of the bed. ‘Where’s your stuff?’

‘In the spare room.’ I say, recovering from my flight.

He makes a point of demonstrating his disgust with an audible grumble before he stalks out of the room and returns moments later with all of my stuff spread between his good hand, under his arms and in his mouth. He dumps it all on the bed. ‘There.’

I reach into my bag and retrieve some clean knickers and my oversized, black sweatshirt, but my comfortable cotton knickers are soon snatched out of my hand. I frown as I watch him riffle through my bag and pull out a pair of lace replacements.

He hands them to me. ‘Always in lace.’ He nods in approval to his own demand, and I comply without hesitation or complaint, putting the lace knickers on, and then my oversized jumper. I watch as Jesse ditches the wet shorts and swaps them for a blue jersey pair. I can see new definition in his back and arms as his muscles roll and flex when he pulls them up. I sit and admire from my position on the bed before he picks me up again and carries me down to the kitchen.

First, I turn the music off on a little shudder, then I stand in front of the fridge scanning the shelves. ‘What do you want?’ Maybe some eggs, he could probably use the protein.

‘I don’t mind, I’ll have what you’re having.’ He comes up from behind and reaches past me to grab a jar of peanut butter, dropping his lips to my neck.

‘Put that back!’ I make a grab for the jar, but he evades me and beats a hasty retreat to the barstool, shoves the jar under his arm to unscrew the cap before dipping his finger in to scoop a dollop out. He smirks at me as he slides his finger into his mouth and forms an O with his lips as he pulls it out.

‘You’re a child.’ I settle on chicken fillets, grabbing them from the fridge. I’ve already eaten, but I’m going to have to tuck some more away if it means he will eat with me.

‘I’m a child because I like peanut butter?’ he asks over his finger.

‘No, you’re a child because of the way you eat peanut butter. No one over the age of ten should finger dip jars and as I’m being kept in the dark over your age, I assume that you are over ten.’ I fire a disgusted look at him as I find the tinfoil and wrap the chicken up with some Parma ham, then put them in an oven dish.

‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Here.’ He thrusts his peanut butter covered finger over the island and into my line of vision. I screw my face up. I detest peanut butter.

‘Pass.’ I say, putting the chicken in the oven. He shrugs and then licks it off himself.

I get some sugar snap peas and new potatoes from the fridge and load them into the built in steamer, then fiddle with a few knobs before it kicks into action.

Lifting myself up on to the worktop, I watch him on a small smile. ‘Enjoying that?’

He pauses mid-scoop and looks up at me. ‘I can eat the stuff until I feel sick.’ Another finger goes in.

‘Do you feel sick?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘Do you want to stop now before you do and save some room for the well-balanced meal I’m making you?’ I fight to prevent a grin.

He doesn’t. He smirks and slowly screws the lid back on. ‘Why, baby, are you nagging me?’

‘No, I’m asking you a question.’ I correct him. I don’t ever want to be a nag.

He starts chewing his bottom lip, watching me carefully, his eyes dancing. I shiver from top to toe. I know that look. ‘I like your sweatshirt,’ he says quietly, running his eyes down my front to my bare legs. It’s oversized and it covers my bum. It’s hardly sexy. ‘I like black on you.’ he adds.

‘You do?’

‘I do.’ he asserts quietly. He’s going to distract me again. I need to get some proper food in him and we need to discuss the fact that it is Monday tomorrow and I’m going to have to go home and to work. After his sly stunt of depositing a stupidly over-the-top advance payment into Rococo Union’s bank account, I’m concerned that he’ll maintain his previous unreasonable request to have me working at The Manor all day everyday.

‘It’s Monday tomorrow.’ I say positively. I don’t know why I choose that tone. Positive as opposed to what?

‘And?’ He folds his arms over his chest.

What do I say? Would it be too much to ask him to be reasonable about my requirement to tend to other clients? He has openly admitted he doesn’t like sharing me, socially or professionally.

I drum my fingers on the worktop next to me. ‘And nothing, I was just wondering what you might have planned?’

I see a fleeting look of panic sweeps over his stubbled face, and I’m instantly worried that tomorrow is going to be a trauma. ‘What have you got planned?’ he asks.

I look at him like he’s a dumb arse. ‘Work.’ I answer, watching as he starts chewing his bottom lip and those bloody cogs start turning again. There is no way he’s going to convince me not to work. ‘Don’t even think about it. I’ve important meetings to keep.’ I warn, before he has a chance to spit out what I know he is thinking.

‘Just one day?’ He pouts at me playfully, but I know he is deadly serious. I’m bracing myself for a countdown or a sense fuck.

‘No, you must have lots to catch up on at The Manor.’ I affirm assertively. He does have a business to run and he’s been unconscious for a whole working week. John can’t be expected to run things forever.

‘I suppose so.’ he grumbles.

I mentally cheer. No countdown? No sense fuck? We really are moving forward.

‘Oh, Clive said there was a woman here earlier.’ I completely forgot about that.

‘He did?’ He looks surprised.

‘He said that she was trying to get up to the penthouse. She wouldn’t give her name and you didn’t answer your phone when Clive tried to call you. Blonde woman. Mature. Wavy hair.’ I watch for his reaction, but he just frowns.

‘I’ll have a word with him. Is my well-balanced meal ready yet?’

That’s it? He’ll have a word with Clive? I want to know who she is. ‘Who was it?’ I ask casually, as I get down from the worktop to check the steamer.

‘No idea.’ He jumps up himself and gets some cutlery from the drawer.

Is he avoiding this? ‘You really don’t have any idea?’ I ask doubtfully, while removing the chicken from the oven and putting it in the pan to finish it off.

‘Ava. I really have no idea, but I assure you, I will speak to Clive and see if I can establish who she was. Now, feed your man.’ He sits back down and holds his knife and fork in his hands, upright from the counter. If he bangs them on the table, I’ll wrap them around his head.

I go about serving up and present him with the first meal I have ever made him. I hate cooking.

He tucks straight in. ‘Yum.’ he mumbles around a mouthful of chicken. ‘How was your day with your brother?’

Better if he hadn’t of interrupted me with a meltdown. ‘Fine.’ I answer, sitting next to him.

‘Just fine? This is really good.’

It’s good to see him eat something other than peanut butter. He’s like a different man again – so confident and self-assured, but in the next breath he’s falling to pieces. Do I really have that much of an impact on him?

‘We had a great day. We did Madame Tussaud’s and went to dinner at our favourite Chinese.’ This chicken really is good. I can’t believe I’m eating more.

‘Tussauds?’

‘Yeah, it’s our thing.’ I shrug.

‘It’s nice to have a thing.’ He sounds sincere. ‘You’ve eaten already?’ He looks at my plate and I blush. ‘Are you eating for two?’ he asks, looking up at me. I nearly choke on a potato.

‘No!’ I splutter around my food. I’ve already told him there’s no chance. I wish he would stop fretting. ‘Stop worrying.’ I grumble, returning to my dinner.

He continues eating while making appreciative sounds around his fork every now and again. I would think he might be taking the piss, but I’ve tasted it – it’s good.

Once we’re done, I load the dishwasher and my thoughts start drifting. Him brushing off the mystery visitor is eating away at me. He’s being vague and it’s bothering me.

I turn to challenge him and crash straight into his hard, naked chest. ‘Oh!’

He towers over me, breathing hard, and my eyes weld to his huge erection tenting the front of his jersey shorts. ‘Lose the sweater.’ he demands, his voice low and husky.

I look up into his green eyes and wisely note that he’s not in a fucking about mood. I want to bring to his attention that I’m not happy about his evasion of my enquiry, but I know it will get me entirely nowhere right now. Besides, I’m absolutely delighted to see my domineering man back. It’s been too long.

I grasp the hem of my sweatshirt and slowly draw it up over my head and then drop it to the ground.

He runs his eyes appreciatively down my body, over my exposed breasts and settles his gaze on the juncture of my thighs. ‘You’re impossibly beautiful and all mine.’ He links his fingers into the top of my knickers and slowly drags them down my legs, falling to his knees as he does.

He taps to lift my foot and then repeats on the other before wrapping his big hands around my ankles. I want to tell him to watch his hand, but his hot touch on my sensitive skin has just released a thunderstorm at my core and a tidal wave of liquid to between my thighs. I look down at him and see my chest lifting noticeably with my deep breaths. He sparks the most incredible reactions in me. I’m defenseless to him. It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless.

His eyes find mine. ‘I think I’ll let you come first.’ His voice is gravelly. ‘Then I’m going to rip you clean in half.’

I gasp at his fierce promise as he runs his palms the full length of my legs, from my ankles to the back of my thighs, and then yanks me onto his waiting mouth. His invasion of me reduces me to a moaning mess in his grasp as he works his tongue over every part of me – expertly, meaningfully. My hands find his hair and my hips roll onto his mouth, with no encouragement from my brain.

My head falls back. ‘Oh shit.’ I groan, the thrum at my sex accelerating into a constant vibration.

‘Mouth.’ he mumbles against my flesh, which only serves to propel me that little bit closer to utter ecstasy.

I feel one of his hands move from the back of my leg and slide up the inside of my thigh. His finger slips inside me. On a desperate cry, I release his head to lean back on the worktop for support, his circling finger stretching me and brushing my front wall on each rotation. I’m buzzing, my muscles grabbing onto his finger greedily.

‘Tell me when, Ava.’ He replaces one finger with two and pushes deeper into me.

That, and the vibration of his lips on my clitoris, finishes me off. ‘That’s it.’ I cry, pushing my hips forward onto his mouth in an attempt to take the edge off the peak.

I’m wiped out from the onslaught of his mouth, and I sag against the worktop on a violent round of shakes, my heart clattering in my chest. He reins in his rhythm and laps gently, letting me drift down on a long, satisfied sigh.

‘You’re too good.’ I drop my head down to find his eyes.

He looks up, but keeps his mouth on me, circling gently and thrusting his fingers lazily in and out. ‘I know,’ he gloats. ‘Aren’t you lucky?’

I shake my head at his self-assuredness and have a little mental sulk when I imagine, again, why he is so good. I snap a lid on that immediately, wiping my mind of all unpleasant thoughts relating to Jesse’s sexual past. Instead, I watch him slowly crawl up my body, trailing his tongue as he goes.