Part 12 (1/2)

He smirks. 'I mean in my bed and under me.' He yanks me into his chest, and I resume nuzzle, sagging with relief. That sounds good to me. I've just added a steaming hot affair with an older man to my bucket list, just so I can tick it off. No commitment, no tying down. This suits me fine. Although, I doubt I would get either of the aforementioned from this man.

'At The Manor?' I ask. It's quite a drive.

'No, I've an apartment behind me, but I can't move in until tomorrow. I'm renting a place on Hyde Park. You'll come.'

'Yes.' I don't hesitate, but I'm aware that it wasn't a question. And I'm also mindful of his previous comments, especially his last one: You belong with me.

Is that his decision, or mine?

He sighs, applying more pressure to my head and back.

Yes, proceed with extreme caution, Ava.

We travel in silence, except for the low tones of Ma.s.sive Attack's Teardrops filtering out of his car sound system. How fitting after my sobbing fit. I spend most of the journey deliberating on my decision to come home with Jesse, while he repeatedly draws breath, as if intending to say something but deciding against it.

He pulls his Aston Martin into a gated car park, and I let myself out. Popping his boot and grabbing my bags, he takes my hand and leads me into the building.

'I'm on the first floor. We'll take the stairs, it's quicker.' He guides me through a grey fire door, into the stairwell and up a flight of stairs.

We exit into a narrow corridor. It looks like a specialist hospital facility. Jesse unlocks the only other door in the long expanse of white and grey, ushers me in, and I'm immediately stood in a large open plan area. It's white from top to bottom, with black furniture and a black kitchen, monochrome to the absolute maximum a a real guy's pad. It looks empty, cold and clinical. I hate it.

'It's a pit stop. I bet you're really offended.' His eyes glow and he smiles, no doubt at my critical face.

'I prefer your new place.'

'Me too,'

I wander further into the apartment, scrutinising the lack of warmth and cosiness. How does he live here? There are no personal touches, no paintings or photographs. I notice a s...o...b..ard propped up in the corner, with various skiing equipment piled around it. On the side board, where I would expect to see vases or ornaments, there's a motorcycle helmet and some leather gloves. That's a surprise.

'I don't keep alcohol. Do you want some water?' He strolls over to the huge, black fridge and pulls it open.

'Please.' I join him in the kitchen area, pulling out a black bar stool from under the black granite worktop of the island. Jesse removes his suit jacket and perches on the adjacent stool, turning to face me and handing me a gla.s.s of water before he unscrews the cap of a bottle for himself. His long, muscled legs are straining against his trousers, his feet flat on the floor, but his legs considerably bent, considering the height of the stool. My feet are propped on the footrest.

He sips his water, looking at me over the bottle, while I fiddle with my gla.s.s. I feel incredibly uncomfortable. I shouldn't have come. Things have become awkward and I'm not sure why. There is one reason and one reason alone why he's brought me here. And like the idiot that I am, I've gone along with it.

I hear him sigh. He places his bottle down before he takes my gla.s.s from my hand and puts it on the island worktop. Grasping the seat of my stool, he drags it closer to his, turning it to face him, resting his palms on my knees. He leans in. 'Why did you cry?' he asks.

'I don't know.' I answer honestly. The whole episode caught me off guard, if I'm honest. There's no reason for me to be blubbering all over him. I feel pretty stupid.

'Yes, you do. Tell me.'

I consider what I should say, while his eyes probe mine, waiting for me to answer. The light crease appears across his brow, and I realise now that it's a concentration slash concern frown. What should I tell him? That I've just come out of a four year relations.h.i.+p with a bloke who persistently cheated on me? That over the last four weeks, since calling it a day, I've re-established my ident.i.ty and I don't want a man to rob it again? That my trust in men is zero and the fact that he is, quite clearly, a prince of seduction spells trouble for me? Oh, and finally, I know deep down that this could all end very messily for me a not him.

But he won't want to hear any of that girly nonsense. 'I don't know.' I repeat myself instead.

He sighs, his frown morphing into a scowl as he taps his fingers on the granite a few times. I can, quite literally, see the cogs of his mind grinding as he looks at me, chewing his bottom lip. 'Would I be right in saying that your misinterpretation of mine and Sarah's relations.h.i.+p wasn't the only reason you were avoiding me?' he asks, but it's more like a statement than a question. He unclasps his Rolex and slides it onto the worktop.

'Probably,' I look away from him, a little ashamed a I don't know why. How does he know that, anyway?

'That's disappointing.' he states conclusively, but I can't hear the disappointment in his voice. All I hear is annoyance. I don't need to tell him that I could, very possibly, fall hard for him. Women must fall hard for him on a daily basis.

I recoil slightly when he grabs my jaw and tugs my face back to his. The hollow at his cheekbones confirm my thoughts. He's gritting his teeth. He's angry? What did he b.l.o.o.d.y expect? For me to drop to my knees and kiss his feet? He's obviously use it to. It was just s.e.x, wasn't it? We both needed to get each other out our systems, and there was an opportunity to do just that. We took the opportunity, that's all.

He's not out of your system! Oh b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. I don't think he will be any time soon either a if ever. He's already under my skin.

'What did you want me to say?' I ask.

He releases my jaw, letting out a frustrated sigh, and before I know what's. .h.i.t me, he grabs me and tosses me onto the worktop, sending my gla.s.s of water cras.h.i.+ng to the tiled floor. The gla.s.s shatters loudly around us. My legs are spread with his thighs, causing my dress to ride up, and he attacks my mouth with his inexorable tongue, plunging deep and meaningfully.

I'm slightly taken aback by his impulsive a.s.sault, but I'm powerless to stop him, in physical strength and in mental strength. I'm instantly plagued by blazing goose b.u.mps and hot wetness at my core, as he thrusts his hips hard while consuming my mouth. He cups my b.u.m, pulling me closer, keeping his groin tight against me.

Oh, holy s.h.i.+t! I groan as his hips roll, unashamed for him to know that I'm turned on like a thousand watt light bulb. Releasing my lips, he stares at me, breathing hard with brazen hunger s.h.i.+ning from his green pools. I'm certain my eyes are matching his.

'Let's establish some things here,' he pants through short breaths. He pulls me off of the worktop so I'm straddling his waist. He stares at me. 'You're a s.h.i.+t liar.'

Yes, this I know. My Mum and Dad tell me all the time. I twiddle my hair when I lie. It's involuntary a I can't help it. What else are we establis.h.i.+ng because I'm burning up on pleasure here?

He leans in and kisses my lips, softly stroking my tongue with his. 'You're mine now, Ava.' He rolls his hips, causing me to s.h.i.+ft upwards and tense to relieve myself of the relentless buzzing at my core. We're face to face. 'I'm keeping you forever.' he informs me on a thrust of his hips.

I close my arms around his shoulders and kiss him on his lush, moist lips, my way of saying, okay. I'm desperate for him all over again. I'm in so much trouble.

'I'm going to possess every.single.part.of.you,' He punctuates each word clearly and sharply. 'There will be nowhere on this beautiful body that won't have had me in it, on it or over it.' His voice is carnal and deadly serious, which only serves to increase my heart rate a little more.

Every single bit, though? Should I look further into that? I don't get a chance to. I'm lowered to my feet and spun around before he yanks the zipper of my poor, mistreated dress down. My bra is removed and tossed aside just as quickly.

Leaning down, he kisses the nape of my exposed neck, blowing his cool, minty breath across it, instigating a delightful s.h.i.+ver from the mixture of heat from is tongue and the coolness of his breath. Christ, I'm buzzing all over. I flex my neck, rolling my shoulder blades to alleviate the tingles that are riddling my entire body.

He moves his mouth to my ear. 'Face me.'

I do as I'm told, turning back around to look at him, finding an expression of pure determination as he lifts me back onto the island. I rest my hands on his shoulders, but he grasps them, and I reluctantly let him guide them down to the worktop so I'm gripping the edge.

'The hands stay here.' he says firmly as he releases them, backing up his demand with that confident tone. He hooks his fingers in the top of my knickers and tugs at them. 'Lift.'

I push my weight onto my arms, lifting my backside off of the worktop so he can draw them down my legs, lowering myself back down when I'm free from the constraints of my underwear. I'm stark naked, and he's still fully dressed. And he doesn't look like he has any intention of removing his clothes anytime soon. I want to see that chest. I move my hands from the edge of the counter to the hem of his s.h.i.+rt.

He steps back, shaking his head slowly. 'Hands,'

I pout, returning my hands to the worktop edge. I want to see him, feel him. This is not fair.

He positions his hands on his top b.u.t.ton. 'You want me to remove my s.h.i.+rt?' His low, husky voice is playing havoc with my discipline.

'Yes.' I breathe.

'Yes, what?' he smirks at me, and I narrow my eyes on him.

'Please.' I grate, in a long drawn out breath, well aware that he's getting a thrill from making me beg.

He smiles as he slowly unb.u.t.tons his s.h.i.+rt, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on me. It takes every bit of effort not to reach forward and yank it open. Why is he making such a meal of this? He knows what he's doing. He's making me wait. It's torturous.

When he finally gets to the last b.u.t.ton, he rolls his shoulders, pulling his s.h.i.+rt off. For the briefest moment - when both arms are flexed back, his muscles bulging and rippling with his movement - I think I might pa.s.s out.