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The sudden pain has me wincing as I fight back the pressure in my head. My fingers knead my temple as a groan escapes.
The next thing I know, Max’s cock is notched at my entrance.
I freeze.
“Ava, do you want to do this?”
One look into those beautiful eyes and I know I can nod my agreement. But more importantly, I know that I can shake my head, and that is what I do.
He drops his forehead to my shoulder, exhaling in what sounds like regret. He rests it there whilst I soothe my hands over the warm skin of his shoulders and back.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise. I was rushing you. I’m impatient because I want you so much.” He kisses my shoulder, over and over, his lips lingering. “Did you get any flashbacks? It looked like you got another headache.”
There’s something about his voice that makes me alert, that has that alarm clanging. “Were you being pushy to force a reaction?”
“I’m being pushy because I go after what I want, which is you. More importantly, I want to help you, and I’m wondering if my behaviour is a trigger.”
OnlyI’mallowed to run the experiments around here.
I clamber off his lap, his presumptuousness inflaming my ire. Grabbing up my swimsuit, I climb out of the tub in search of my towel. Naked, though desperately trying to cover myself up, I stalk back through the snow into the cabin and head straight to the bathroom, locking the door and getting in the shower to warm back up again.
The hot water cleanses the indignation out of me, but he’s not forgiven. For several minutes I work through my response to his behaviour. Why does he think he can storm his way into my recovery, forcing things?
Knowing Max is probably in my room, I brush my teeth, take a deep breath, and unlock the door. Dressed in his tartan sleep bottoms, Max has obviously had a quick shower himself, his fragrant body wash detectable in the room.
“I’m really sorry. I thought I was being helpful, but I was obviously mistaken. Ava, please, don’t scowl at me like that. I’m so sorry.”
I stop scowling, the apology sucking the ire from my bones. The many points I wanted to raise, and spent some time articulating to myself in the shower, have vanished in the wind. Because not only was the apology sweet and heartfelt, he looks broken too.
“The last thing I want to do is make it worse for you, I promise.” He steps closer, slowly placing his hands on my waist. “My actions were misguided.”
“I was really cross, Max.”
His lips linger at my temple, the briefest of touches. “I can tell.”
“I still am.”
He scrubs a hand through his hair, a desperate expression on his face. “I would never do anything without your agreement. I only meant to nudge your brain in a particular direction, I promise.”
“I know I asked you to act indifferently, but that was related to seeking permission every time you want to spontaneously kiss or touch me. That’s not needed. But aspects of that out there felt non-consensual, and that is not an area we should be dabbling in. I get for some couples that’s a thing, but I’m not sure that can be a thing for me, certainly not yet. Please don’t think you can force my brain to remember; Dave told me it will happen organically, and it is.”
He nods, his expression serious. “But I think you did remember something, didn’t you?”
Hmm, maybe he has a point; earlier, my head felt electrified. As I focus on understanding what happened, I push our argument to one side. “Something you said or did jarred with me, that’s true, but that’s all I can tell you.”
Softly, Max kisses my cheek, a trail of them peppered over my jaw and throat as he whispers his apologies over and over. It has me sighing in contentment because damn, his mouth is good.
“Forgive me?”
“Forgiven,” I decide, my resolve disappearing as he nuzzles my neck. “This is going to be difficult, and I don’t expect you to get it right every time. It’s been hard for me to know what I want sometimes, but with you, I want to see what this is.” I want to sleep with him, and I haven’t wanted to sleep with anyone.
Our fingers interlock. We’re chest to chest, a heady mix of masculine fragrances bewitching my brain. “I’ll come to London this weekend and we can go on our date.” What happens after that can be decided then.
“We go at your pace, Ava. I promise to do this by the book.”
“There is no book for this,” I point out. “We just have to see where we’re led.”
