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I let us in and turn to look at Ava, cringing when I see her expression. Not surprisingly, given her profession, she doesn’t like it. “It’s a pit stop,” I explain, placing her bags on the floor. “I bet you’re really offended.” I force a smile, trying to dent the awkward atmosphere. The car was bordering unbearable, Ava silent, me not knowing what to say. Talk, John said. I’ve never appreciated how hard it is to do that. I never usually have to.
She smiles meekly. “I prefer your new place.”
“Me too.”
She braves coming farther in, glancing around, taking it all in. “I don’t keep alcohol.”Anymore. “Do you want some water?”
“Please.”
I take two bottles from the fridge and turn to find she’s settled at the island. She looks small and uncomfortable. Like she’s questioning being here. It grates on me. She’s finding a problem for every solution, and I’m trying so hard not to let it rile me. I pour her water into a glass and remove my jacket, looking down at the mess that is my creased shirt. I want to smile. I can’t. I want to relish in the memories. I can’t.
I pull a stool close to her and pass her the glass, and I watch her as I sip. She’s fidgeting, refusing to look at me, playing with the glass. What the fuck has happened? She clung to me like I was life outside of Lusso.
I breathe out heavily and she freezes, looking out the corner of her eye as I rid my hand of my water and take her glass, setting it gently down on the counter. I don’t only want to see her face when she gives me the answers to my questions, I want to feel her body react. So I reach for her stool and tug it closer, turning it slightly so she’s facing me. My hands fall to her bare knees. I need to talk. Ihaveto talk. “Why did you cry?”
She shakes her head mildly. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Tell me.”Don’t make me force it out of you, Ava.
I keep her in place with my expectant stare, willing her to dig deep and be honest with me. I’m a fucking hypocrite.
“I don’t know,” she says again, and I sigh, my eyes narrowing, discontent flooding me. And I want her to know it.
“Would I be right in saying that your misinterpretation of mine and Sarah’s relationship wasn’t the only reason you were avoiding me?” There. Let’s move this conversation along, because if I wait for Ava to find the courage to speak up, I’ll be waiting forever. Enough. I flip the catch on my Rolex and slip it off my wrist, waiting.
She looks away. “Probably.”
I nod to myself. “That’s disappointing.” So what obstacle is she going to put in our way now?
Fuck it. I’m done with talking. Because I hate what she’s saying. Let me communicate with her in another way. A way that will leave no room for misunderstandings.
I seize her and get her onto the counter, moving in between her legs and slamming my mouth on hers, not giving her the chance to prepare for me. Nothing will prepare her for this. I don’t think anything can prepare me either. I hear the sound of smashing glass through the instant rush of blood to my head, my body singing, my skin blazing, my cock dripping. Just from a kiss. I reach for her arse and yank her tighter into me, my groin inadvertently pushing into her, an attempt to ease the throb.
The sounds she’s making are quiet, but the loudest I’ve ever heard. I rip myself free of our overwhelming kiss to find her eyes, my breathing shot. She’s alive with want. For me. “Let’s establish some things here,” I practically wheeze, desperate to get my mouth back on hers and my dick back in her glorious, sweet pussy. But as desperate as I am for that, I’m just as desperate for her to understand I’m figuring her out.
I slide her off the counter, feeling her legs tighten around me. “You’re a shit liar.” I drop a gentle kiss on her lips, pushing my tongue gently into her mouth. She accepts. Of course she accepts. And she moans. She moans so loudly. “You’re mine now, Ava.” No more fucking about. No more games. I grind into her, feeling her stiffen in my arms. “I’m keeping you forever.” I thrust once more, and when she responds by kissing me, I take that as a resounding yes. Yes, she’s good with that. Yes, I can keep her forever. Yes, she’s on the same page as me. Good.
Time to consummate that. “I’m going to possess every single part of you.”Mind and body. “There will be nowhere on this beautiful body that won’t have had me in it, on it, or over it.” I’ve never desired something so much. Craved it so much. Never felt this fucking dependent. It’s possessing me, and there is nothing I can do to control it. Only sate it.
I drop her to her feet and turn her, trying not to be too rough. But... her breathing is heavy, her whimpers endless. Desperate. I grab the zipper on her dress and tug it down, pushing it from her body to the floor. The bra is next. Gone. And her skin? It glows, pulling my lips to the back of her neck. I kiss her gently, smiling when I feel her shudder, her neck flexing. She can’t cope.Me neither.
I turn my mouth into her ear. “Face me,” I whisper.
She’s looking at me quickly, her dark eyes blazing, and I lift her, setting her on the counter again. Her hands land on my shoulders. I quickly seize them and guide them down to the edge of the counter. “The hands stay here.” She’s going to need something to hold on to, and I can’t guarantee I’ll be stable enough. “Lift,” I order as I take the sides of her knickers, dragging them down her long legs.
And she’s naked. Gloriously naked. And I am held rapt by the vision of her sitting here on my countertop, waiting for me to blow her mind.
She reaches for my shirt, and I move back.What the fuck am I doing?Torturing myself? “Hands,” I order, and her bottom lip juts out. It’s cute. But I’m happy taking this part slowly. Happy to watch her gradually disintegrate with an impatience I’m all too familiar with. “You want me to remove my shirt?” I ask, casual but cocky.
“Yes.”
She’s out of breath. It’s too satisfying. “Yes, what?” I ask around my grin. She will beg for me. Make up for all the lost time and stress she’s caused.
“Please,” she virtually snarls, her eyes boring holes into my smug form. I give her what she wants and start unbuttoning. Slowly. Watching her. Relishing her building impatience.
I’m surprised she manages to restrain herself. I’d be damned if I could sit and watch her slowly strip. Has she suddenly become compliant?
I flex my shoulders and remove my shirt, kicking off my shoes and dipping to pull off my socks. And as I rise, I watch as her gaze falls to my stomach. I want to think she’s admiring my form. But I know different. I’m not up for questions on how I came to have a mammoth scar there, not now, so I move into her quickly, placing my hands on her thighs. I have her again, her attention diverted.
