Page 63 of This Woman


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Her own place? Maybe that’s not necessary. But... “Where were you four weeks ago?”

“With Matt.”

“Who the fuck is Matt?”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

And what the fuck is that inside now? Relief? “Ex?”

“Yes. Ex.”

I’m unable to stop my body from softening. So she has an ex. Matt.Of course she has a fucking ex, you dickhead.Look at her.But how and why did it end? And does it matter now that it means I get her? How old was he? I snarl to myself.

“Jesse, I need to get my car. I can’t leave Kate to drive Margo all the way to Yorkshire. She rattles and shakes all over the place; it won’t be safe.”

Margo? “Don’t worry,” I assure her. Who the fuck is Margo? “I’ll take you to get it in the morning.”

“She’s leaving at eight-ish.”

“Ish,” I mouth, grinning, getting one in return. She likes that word. Translation: Not committed. So long as she doesn’t use it when discussing us.

She shifts my hands up a few inches, away from her tickle spot, and starts feeling around in her hair. I don’t know what the fuck she’s doing, but it’s making her boobs thrust forward, and that’s uncalled for. I scowl, and she smiles, probably wary.

“What?”

She knows what.“You refuse to spend the day with me, and then thrust those fabulous boobs in my face? That’s not playing fair, Ava.” I flick a nipple, my scowl transforming into a smile when it hardens. One fleeting touch. Her body responds in the most pleasing way.

“Hey,” she yelps, covering her boob. “I need to take my grips out. They’re digging into my head.” She slips one between her teeth and starts feeling at her head again. I have an overwhelming urge to help her, so I sit up, taking the grip from between her teeth with mine and spitting it out. Now, back to the boobs. I hold her around her back and haul her onto my face, closing my eyes in bliss. I could stay here with her soft, warm skin all over my face forever. But... hairgrips. I begrudgingly pull out and give each nipple a peck before turning her around on my lap, letting her settle between my bent legs.

“Let me.” I start feeling through her hair, pulling out the little metal things one by one, locks of her hair tumbling down with each grip I remove. “How many have you got in here?” I ask, dropping another into her palm.

“A few. I have a lot of hair to keep up.”

“A few hundred?” I ask on a light laugh, finding more and more. I massage her scalp, ensuring I’ve caught every one. “There, I think I got them all.” I relieve her of the grips, leaning over to place them on the nightstand, and then pull her back to my front, encasing her completely in my arms, ensuring she can’t go anywhere. Her hands land on my shins and start stroking, her head limp against my shoulder.God, I love how she touches me.Her breathing pattern has changed. She’s tired, but she still strokes me, and it makes me realize that it’s been years since I’ve been touched with such gentleness and care. It’s not a touch to incite sex, just gentle movements.

“How old are you?” she asks sleepily, and I laugh softly, wondering if she will ever let this go. Probably not. The fact she’s asked twice in an hour is evidence that it’s playing on her mind. And that hurts. It really does matter.

“Twenty-three,” I reply quietly, running my hand through her hair, the silky, soft strands slipping through my fingers easily. I look down at the back of her head, swallowing, breathing in, trying not to think it.

But it’s inevitable.

I’m terrified she’s going to slip through my fingers. Walk away and take everything I’ve always craved with her.

Peace. Calm. Serenity.

Please don’t walk away.

I reach down and pull the covers up over her waist before wrapping myself around her again, my nose finding its place in the crook of her neck.

And I decide here and now, with her warm in my arms, I need to do everything in my power to guarantee she doesn’t slip through my fingers.

12

I’ve wokenup with plenty of women in my bed. I’ve woken up and cringed my way from under the covers. I’ve woken up and mentally shot my brain out. I’ve woken up and been desperate to get out into the fresh air to clear my head.

But I have never woken up with a woman in my arms. I’ve never woken up and immediately smiled. I’ve never woken up and thoughtfuck itto my morning run. Actually, I’ve never woken up and not felt like Ineededto run.

This. Is. Unprecedented.

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