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Wrong.“Zero.”
She stares at me, straining to appear strong, but she’s unable to conceal her uncertainty.Oh, this is fun.I shake my head at her, breathing in, and I watch as her body engages, ready to bolt. I move fast, and she’s off on a yelp, diving across the bed. I laugh and grab her ankle, dragging her back to me.
“Jesse,” she yells as I spin her over, climbing on top of her and pinning her down. “Get off.” Her hair is in her face, hampering her view, and I just manage to wipe my shit-eating grin away when she blows it away, using her last scrap of breath.
“Let’s clear something up.” I shrug myself out of my jacket, giving me more unrestricted movement in preparation. It takes everything in me to keep my amusement at bay. She looks like she could punch me in the face and take the greatest of pleasure from it. I grab the cream jumper and hold it up. “If you do what you’re told, our lives will be a lot easier.” Her jaw is about ready to snap. “All of this”—I squeeze each nipple in turn, but she doesn’t flinch or buck or yell— “is for my eyes only.” She’s playing a dangerous game, because the more she tries to demonstrate power, the more I’ll prove otherwise. But, make no mistake, she holds all the cards here. Not that I’ll ever admit it. I grab her hip and dig my fingers in.
“No! Please, no.” Her yells turn into laughter, and it’s such a sight to behold. It’s also an opportunity. I use my free hand to start feeding her arms through the jumper, constantly tickling her, using her flailing limbs and uncoordinated moves to my advantage. She throws her arm out, I get one sleeve on. She tries to hit me with the other, I seize her hand and get the other sleeve on. I have another dig of her hip, and her head flies up on a cry. I slip the neck of the jumper over her head and yank it down her body.
Done.
“That’s better.” I admire my work. She looks adorable in wool. I lean down and move her hair from her face, waiting for her to find me. She’s knackered. Out of breath and sweaty.Beautiful. I give her a hard kiss. “You could have saved us both a lot of trouble if you’d have just put... the... fucking... jumper... on.” But I can’t deny how much fun that was. And how much I needed to simply laugh.Wonderful, infuriating woman.
I get up and slip my jacket on while she searches for breath, pulling herself up. She looks down her body. Growls like a tiger. A death stare. How I manage to restrain my smile, I’ll never know.
“I’ll just take it off,” she declares fiercely.
My amusement can no longer be hidden. “No, you won’t.” She’ll sleep in it all night and remember our amazing lovemaking, how the jumper got on her body, and who has the power. She stamps out of the room as I fix my tie, my smiling eyes following her.
“You’re an unreasonable arse.” The door to the bathroom is slammed with such force, the house shakes. Me? Unreasonable? After everything she’s put me through, I’m the unreasonable one? I laugh but stop the moment my eyes land on her mobile, wondering what ringtone I’ll give myself today. I smile as I change it and make my way to the kitchen, finding Kate and Sam all over each other.
“You look significantly happier,” Kate muses, leaving Sam by the sink to fetch a mug.
“Ava and I have reached an understanding.”
“Oh, good.” Sam seems genuinely happy for me. Good. I’m happy too. “What’s that?” He takes a chair, but I’m distracted from answering him when Ava stomps in. She’s still in the jumper. And a filthy look is still marring her gorgeous face. She goes straight to the bottle of wine and pours a large glass as if to make a point. Oh, she’s walking a very fine line. Next time, I won’t force her into a jumper. It’ll be a fucking cage. I glower at her as she settles against the worktop, wine in hand. Has she forgotten about the monster hangover she had? Has she forgotten that she swore to never drink again? She’s doing this to rile me. To get one back.
“Made up?” Kate asks, crossing the kitchen and lowering to Sam’s lap. He accepts with ease, doesn’t bat an eyelid, even jokes about dropping her through his spread thighs. It’s unusual to see him so wrapped up in a woman. I can’t deny it suits him.
“No,” Ava spits, and I pout. Well, that’s not true. Why does she talk such nonsense? “And if you’d like to know who has put a hole in your kitchen door,” she goes on, motioning to the wood I buried my fist in not so long ago, “look no further. He also smashed your wine glass.”
“Let me know if it’s any more.” I nail Ava in place, daring her to continue with the childish games, as I toss a pile of notes on the table.
“That should cover it,” Kate says.
I approach Ava, slowly and casually. “I like your jumper,” I whisper.
Her head tilts, her eyes now slits. “Fuck off,” she mouths, then follows up one transgression with another, necking a stupidly ridiculous amount of wine.
Let it go, Ward.
But she is quite funny. I kiss her nose. “Mouth.” And grab the back of her head, pulling her into me. “Don’t drink too much,” I warn, and I kiss her. Hard. Like I own her. Because while I’m consuming her like this, I do.
The jumper is forgotten. Her sulk is forgotten. The wine and the bad language are forgotten. She’s putty in my hands, and I am no longer pissed off with her.
“You might need to remind me of that,” she says, and I laugh, a proper laugh, one full of happiness. I’ll remind her of all the things for all the days.
She watches me as she takes another sip, waiting for my reaction. I don’t give her one. Only because she’s home and, actually, I don’t want to leave her on bad terms. I want to leave her with a potent reminder of our chemistry. I’ve done what I came to do. “My work here is done.” I turn and leave, starting to count down the minutes to tomorrow.
My phone rings as I pace to my car, John’s name flashing up at me. “I’m coming,” I say on a sigh.
“Good. There’s someone here to see you.”
“Who?”
“Freja Van Der Haus.”
I stop in the middle of the road, looking back at Kate’s place. Fuck me, never have I been so glad to lose a battle with Ava. “I’m popular these days, huh?” I quip, but John doesn’t agree or even disagree. He hangs up on me and my shoulders drop, my palm running a long, slow stroke over my face. It’s one step forward, ten steps back.
