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I mentally cheer. No countdown? No sense f**k? 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 f**king 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 br**sts 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.
