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“I’m not leaving you, but we’ve got to talk,” she says, her shoulders falling. “I have to torture information out of you, Jesse. It’s exhausting.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as she pulls me in for a hug.
“Have you had bad dreams before?”
I cringe into her shoulder. “No.” Not bad, terrible.
“Because you drank.”
God damn it, yes, being so drunk I’d lose consciousness was helpful. The days were long before Ava, watching the clock, waiting for it to grant me permission to lose myself, escape my past. Escape the flashbacks and dreams. When I met Ava, I suppose she became my escape, which made me crave being with her all the time. Still do. Now, though, the dreams are creeping into my time with her. “No, Ava. I’m not an alcoholic.” But I am an Avaholic, it seems.
“I didn’t say you were.”
She didn’t need to. What a shitter of a day so far. Can someone please give me a break? “Can I make you a well-balanced breakfast now?” I ask, keen to move this morning along.
She hesitates, just for a moment. “Yes, please.”
“What do you want?”
“Toast.”
“Toast? It’s hardly well-balanced.” a bit like me this morning. I set her breakfast down and collect a jar of peanut butter. I need to know what her movements are today. Where she’ll be. Who’s she’s seeing. I might then settle a little. Not a lot. Just a little.
Not at all.
“So, what’s in your diary today?” I ask nonchalantly as I casually dip a finger into my jar and suck off my scoop. Ava coughs and laughs. I pout. “What’s so shocking about wanting to know what you’re going to be doing?”
“Oh, nothing, if I thought you were genuinely interested and not planning a trampling mission.”
“Iamgenuinely interested.” Really fucking interested.
“I’ll meet you at Baroque at one,” she says, evading my question. “I’ve still got to ring Kate and advise her that you’re gatecrashing our ladies’ lunch.”
“Oh, she won’t mind,” I assure her. “She loves me.” It’s a blessing, because I know Kate, despite being a fiery fucker, is also level-headed and logical.
“That’s because you bought her Margo Junior.”
“No,” I say slowly, although I suspect my generosity may have helped my cause. “It’s because she told me so.”
She frowns. “When?”
“At The Manor.”
Fuck. I wasn’t supposed to share that, and the reason I wasn’t supposed to share that is balking, revealing some half-chewed toast. “What was she doing at The Manor?”
“That is none of our business.” I get up, leaving that conversation alone before Ava passes out with shock. “I’ve got to scram.”
“Scram?”
“Skedaddle...go...leave.”
She visibly swoons when I flip her a cheeky wink, but then I see the feistiness rise in her. “I’ve decided that maybe lunch isn’t such a good idea,” she says, picking at her breakfast, casual. “I don’t want Kate to think we’re joined at the hip.”
The chance would be a fine thing. And here we have the woman who just cannot help pressing my buttons. She’ll learn. One day. I hope. I seize her and get her up against the nearest wall. She’s exactly where she wanted me to put her and she’s holding back a grin. She thinks she’s got the power.
She’s right.
I thrust myself against her and relish her sharp intake of breath. If she’s craving me, she only has to ask. But I suppose this is more fun. “You didn’t mean that.” I work my touch down to her pussy, inhaling at the feeling of heat and wetness I find. A given.
