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“You have something you want to tell me,” she whispers, tensing all over me. It’s a blessing, because she can’t feel my body hardening too.
“You’re right, I do,” I say quietly, scratching through every corner of my brain for the right words. I didn’t need to scratch. They’re right on the surface in prime position, ready to be said every minute of every day. “I crazy love you, baby.”
She withdraws, eyeing me suspiciously. “That’s not what you want to tell me.”
“Yes, it is. And I’ll keep telling you until you get fed up hearing it. It’s a novelty to me. I like saying it.”
She pouts, her body loosening. It’s a narrow escape. “I won’t get fed up hearing it,” she declares, her nose wrinkling. “And don’t be saying it to anyone else. I don’t care how much you like saying it.”
“Would that make you jealous?”
“Mr. Ward, let’s not talk about jealously when you’ve just vowed to eliminate any threat.”
Good point. “Okay, let’s not.” I grind upward, my dick twitching, coming to life, reminding me of the power it holds. “Let’s get a room instead.” Perfect solution. No meeting with Van Der Haus, and I get to fully reinforce the scale of our greatness.
Hot and bothered, Ava jumps out of my lap, and I push my lip out, slighted. “I’m going to be late for my meeting.” Swooping up her bag, she leans over and kisses me. “I need you waiting in bed when I get home.”
“Are you making demands, Miss O’Shea?” Because if they’re demands like that, I’ll bow to every single one.
“Are you going to deny me, Mr. Ward?”
“Never,” I confirm. “But you do remember who has the power, don’t you?” I reach for her, not waiting for her answer, ready to show her. But she’s out of the car fast, denying me.
“You do,” she says, smiling coyly as she stands outside my Aston, leaning down to keep me in her sights. “But I need you. So could you please be naked and waiting?”
Oh, those words.Need. It’s so much more prolific than want. “You need me?”
“Always. See you at yours.”
“Ours!” I shout as the door slams. “For fuck’s sake.” All that amazing talk and she finishes with something that drains my cup of happiness. It refills somewhat when my eyes find her arse and follow it all the way up the steps until she disappears through the doors.
And then drains once again when I contemplate what kind of reaction Van Der Haus might have to my girl’s arse in that figure-hugging dress. It might be the same as the valet whose eyes have just followed Ava into the hotel. I let down my window. “Oi!” I yell, making him jump. “Keep your eyes to yourself or I’ll dig them out with a fucking spoon.”
The poor kid looks like he could shit himself as I grip the steering wheel. But the kid, who’s probably closer in age to my girlfriend than I am, is the least of my worries.
I don’t know how long I spend focusing on the air going in and out of my lungs, but my arse is numb.
My phone rings, and the distraction from my low mood is a relief. I release my poor, squeezed steering wheel and click to answer. “John.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing,” I say, glancing around the street, looking for any sign of the Danish prick, my forehead heavy. “Why?”
“You called. Three times.”
My memory is jogged. “Where the fuck were you?” I snap, looking down at the mess of welts on my wrist.
“Do you want to change your tone, or am I beating you when I find you, motherfucker?”
I snarl to myself. “Remind me to remove you from my emergency contacts.”
“What was the emergency?”
I don’t want to tell him, but Sarah has a big gob, and it’s rarely shut. “I was in a bit of a situation,” I say, rolling my eyes to myself.
“Standard lately.”
I laugh, with no humor at all. “You mean being at a woman’s mercy? Yes, I agree.”
