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I reach the bedroom, hearing the shower running, but before I put my plan into action, I grab her bag and retrieve her phone, quickly changing her ring tone again and checking the recent call history. I’m looking for one name in particular. And I find nothing. But he could have called her office. Emailed her.
I replace her mobile and creep to the bathroom door, groaning hard when I find her soaking wet under the spray, working up a lather in her hair. My aching dick, the insatiable bastard, pings to life and points the way. And I’m more than happy to let it guide me. There’s only one way I can convince Ava to skive off work today.
I walk in quietly behind her and slide my hands across her wet, hot, slippery tummy. She stills for a moment, becoming taller, her shoulders pushing back.
Just. One. Touch.
I smile smugly as she wipes the suds from her face and peeks up at me. “Don’t.” Her voice is shaky, lacking any conviction. I, however, am full to the brim with it. I take her shoulders and kiss her hard. “I’m going to be late,” she more or less whines.
“I want to make an appointment.” I thrust my body into hers.
“To fuck me?” she asks. “No appointment necessary.”
For the love of fuckingGod. “Mouth,” I bark. “I already told you, I don’t need to make an appointment to fuck you. I do that whenever and wherever I please.” Like now. And in another hour’s time. And then an hour after that too.
She inhales, a steely expression crossing her face. That’s not a look I’m liking. “I’ve got to go.” She dips, escaping, and I sag against the wall, pouting to myself as she dries herself, scrubs her teeth, and leaves, not looking back.
“Fucking work,” I mutter, roughly washing my hair and soaping my body. “She doesn’t need to work.” I snatch a towel down and rub myself dry before tossing it in the wash basket. “She doesn’t need to live by someone else’s schedule, only mine.” I dunk my finger in my pot of wax and head into the bedroom. “Why can’t she do that?” I ask thin air, working the gunk between my fingers. Coming to a stop, I throw her a filthy glare as she happily applies makeup, making herself even more beautiful for others to appreciate. Mikael Van Der Haus? God damn it, my threat to Freja was very real, but does she care? Has she told Mikael about me and Ava?
I trudge into the dressing room and scan the row of suits, indecisive. Unsettled. So I go back to the bedroom, to the mirror where she’s sitting, and lean in over her, poking and pulling at my hair, my cock virtually tickling her cheek.Go on, baby. Resist me.I smile on the inside, feeling her staring, seeing out the corner of my eye the wand of her mascara hanging limply in her grasp.
I can feel her frustration. Good. Maybe now she gets mine. Breathing in her patience, Ava goes back to applying her eye makeup. Playing hard to get? She’s a treasure. We both know there is only so long she can participate in that game. I am set for the win.
I push a piece of hair to the right, peeking down, moving my leg just so and rubbing softly across her forearm. She stills and exhales, her hand dropping from her face, and I do a terrible job of hiding my amusement. My hair looks perfect. Rough and messy but perfect.
Finding her exasperated form in the reflection of the mirror, I lower to my arse behind her, her eyes following me down, and bundle her up in my arms, giving her what I hope is an irresistible pout, my face pushed close to hers.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, flexing forward, indicating my condition.
She arches her back, trying to escape the inevitable. “You are too.” Her eyes are swimming. Her body calling.
“Don’t go to work.”
“Please, don’t,” she begs.
“Don’t you want to fall into bed and let me pay special attention to you all day?” I ask, giving her puppy dog eyes.
“Ihaveto work.”
I nibble at her lobe, breathing into her ear, getting closer and closer to breaking her down. “I have to haveyou.”
“Jesse, please.” She squirms, and I sag.
It’s depressing as fuck that shewantsto work—more than she wants to be with me. “Are you denying me?”
“No,” she sighs. “I’m delaying you.” And she writhes again, fighting to escape my clutches, somehow managing to turn herself around. Before I know it, I’m on my back, and Ava is spread all over me.Yes!She goes straight for my mouth, and I give in to it, arms sprawled, my body relaxed, as I’m kissed like a woman kisses a man she loves. Complete heaven.
“I need to work, god.”
Well, that ruins the moment. “Work me,” I insist, rolling my naked hips upward. “I’ll be a very grateful client.” Themostgrateful.
She arches a lovely eyebrow. Her eye makeup is stunning, her dark eyes smokey, her lashes long and thick. Fucking beautiful. “You mean to say that instead of busting a gut keeping clients happy with drawings, plans, and schedules...” There’s an edge of teasing in her voice. “I should just jump into bed with them?”
What the fuck?How the hell did she manage to concludethat? “Don’t say things like that, Ava.” Van Der Haus would love nothing more.
“It was a joke.” She chuckles. Least funny joke ever. She shouldn’t even speak about such things, no matter how figurative. I’ll burst a fucking blood vessel.
I growl and spin her, blanketing her with my body. “Do you see me laughing?” I ask, and her lips straighten when she grasps that I’m deadly serious. Good. I can tolerate many things, but any talk of other men isn’t, and never will be, one of those things. “Don’t say things that’ll make me crazy mad.”
