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I turn my incensed expression onto her, forcing back my growl. “You did,” I say lowly, watching as her expression turns into pure filth.
But she doesn’t murmur another word. What could she say? I’m right, and she knows it. She flops back in her seat, staring out of the window. She’s sulking. She’ll be sulking harder when I rip that dress off her, and not because I want at her body. She’s gone too far. Every second from the boutique to now has been a mission on her part to create problems. I’m done with it. It’s time to demonstrate some power.
31
A few timeson our way back to Lusso, I see her head bob slightly from where she’s defiantly trying to keep her eyes open. Part of me hopes she’ll doze off. Maybe confess her love for me again. Instead, she snaps awake and throws me a curled lip when she catches me fleetingly watching her. She’s so fucking exasperating. She wouldn’t be in this car if she didn’t want to be. That much I do know. I never knew it was possible to love someone and want to throttle them in equal measure.
I don’t offer her my hand when she slowly gets out of my Aston, concentrating hard. Offering help will only give her cause to refuse, which she will. Her steps are tentative and measured as I follow her through the foyer, and Clive, wisely, senses the spikey atmosphere and keeps his mouth closed.
She waits for me to join her in the lift, her eyes angry slits. “You need to get this code changed.” She punches in the sequence of numbers with a heavy fingertip and focuses on the doors closing before us. The small space feels like a pressure pot. I glance down her body, getting a last good look at her in that dress. That fucking dress. Either the lame scrap of material takes the brunt of my rage, or Ava will.
She peeks up at me. Shifts on her heels. And for the first time since this morning when I dropped her at work, I’m amused. Even hopping mad, she’s desperate for me. I can see desire crawling all over her exposed skin, and there’s a lot of exposed skin. I could push her up against the wall. Take out this frustration on her body, and she would welcome it because she has some unwarranted frustration to be rid of herself. I’m smiling on the inside. Does she think she has the power?
She does.
But my displeasure is in control right now, and that will pave the way to what is going to be an epic showdown. I will take a lot, but I refuse to take her childish need to rub me up the wrong way. It’s uncalled for. Especially when I already feel like I’m fighting against the current.
I step out of the elevator and let us into my penthouse, heading straight for the kitchen for some water. I have a few swigs to moisten my parched mouth before handing it to Ava, and I watch her as she obediently hydrates herself, emptying the rest of the bottle.
“Turn around,” I say once she’s set the empty aside. Her body stiffens before my eyes, her chest concaving on her inhale of anticipation. And she slowly turns away from me. No challenge. No defiance. I step in and rest my palms on her shoulders, feeling her burning up. I pull the zip down leisurely, my eyes falling with it, taking in her exposed skin, and she steps out and turns to face me. My mind is screaming a million questions as I consider her from my crouched position. But one is louder than the rest.
Why?
I rise, the dress in my grasp, drawing a path up her front with my nose, breathing in every inch of her. Smelling her yearning. “Do you want my mouth on you, Ava?” I ask into her neck, and she gulps, exhaling dreamily. “You need to say the word.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to fuck you, baby?” I slip my hand between her legs and brush lightly over her lace knickers.
“Jesse.”
“I know,” I whisper, deeply satisfied. “You want me.” I nibble at her ear, breathing heavily, pushing her to her limit. She’ll break soon. I’llbreak soon. Yet I can’t let this go.
My dick is screaming as I back away, asking me what the fuck I’m playing at, but it’s for the greater good. It has to be. “Stay there,” I say, seeing the docile, compliant woman that resides beneath the temptress. The woman who cannot resist me. The woman who submits.
I collect what I need from the drawer and pace slowly back to her, and her heavy eyes follow me, her lips parted, her hands twitching, dying to grab me. I take that final step into her body. Meld our chests. Her heartbeats clash against mine. Whimpers of contentment come thick and fast as I coat her face with my lips.
I kiss my way to her mouth, but I don’t allow her to progress it to tongues. I slowly crouch before her, studying her perfection as she finds my shoulders for support. Satisfaction. It feels so good. I stand and breathe down on her. “You’re so affected by me.”
She agrees. No doubt.
“I know you are.” I kiss the hollow beneath her ear and absorb her violent shudder. “It... really... fucking... turns... me... on.” What I’m about to do feels inhumane.
Almost.
I step back, and she blinks her surprise.
I hold up the dress.
And a pair of scissors.
I’ll never forget the look on her face in this moment. It’s somewhere between daring me, and fear that I’m about to do what she fears I’m about to do.
I won’t disappoint.
I set the scissors at the bottom of the dress and cut my way straight through the middle of it. And then through the middle of those two pieces. And then through the middle of those smaller pieces. And do you know what? It feels good. Like the pressure inside releases slowly. Just like that, my problem is gone. She can no longer wear the dress. If only I could rid myself of all other issues so easily.
I set the pieces on the worktop, and I look at her. She’s in a state of shock, dazed, and then she glances from what’s left of the dress to me.
