I pull up down the street from her office and shift in my seat to face her. Her smile is demure. Her eyes bottomless pits of possibilities. She can’t be this close without me touching her.

  Reaching for her full lips, I rub my thumb from one side to the other, and her mouth falls open a fraction. Just this simple, tiny touch. Explosions. “I love waking up with you.” I hate the unstoppable thoughts haunting me but having her around makes them more bearable. She makes me think harder. Want better.

  “I love waking up with you too,” she replies softly, turning her face slightly into my touch. “But I don’t like being run ragged at five in the morning.”

  “You would prefer to be fucked ragged?” I ask, my hand sliding down her front.

  “No, I prefer sleepy sex.” She leans across the car, dislodging my hand from her chest, and plants a fleeting kiss on my lips. I don’t get a second to appreciate it or escalate it. She’s out of the car quickly, leaving me a burning mess in front of the wheel, wondering where the fuck the rest of that kiss is. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.” She smiles sweetly, and my frown deepens. Tomorrow? Definitely not. “Thank you for exhausting me before work.” The door shuts, and my brain doesn’t work nearly fast enough to tell me to stop her. I sit, pouting, wrestling back my compulsion to dive out and pin her to the ground to convince her otherwise.

  “Tomorrow?” I ask myself, seeing her disappear into her office. “Tomor . . . oh no.” It’s Friday. She thinks she’s going out with Kate tonight. “Over my dead body.” Visions of wine and a stumbling Ava is suddenly all I can see. Drunk Ava. Reckless Ava. Vulnerable Ava. “Not happening,” I say to myself, starting my car and performing a quick three-point-turn in the road. I cruise past her office slowly, looking through the window. She’s already at her desk. Head down. Pen in hand. I roll to a stop, trying to conjure up a viable excuse to stop her going out tonight.

  You’re being unreasonable, Ward.

  “I don’t think I am,” I say quietly, drumming the steering wheel. The last time Ava was let loose with too much alcohol, her ex made a pass and she was in no fit state to fight him off.

  She also told you she loves you.

  That part was nice. A shocker, but nice.

  She also promised you she wouldn’t drink tonight.

  I laugh out loud. I’m not stupid. I know a lie when I’m being told one. She was appeasing me.

  Beep! “God damn it,” I mutter, looking up at my rearview mirror, finding a dustbin wagon up my arse. I speed off down Bruton Street, trying to figure out how I can change her mind.

  * * *

  Sarah’s coming down the steps when I pull up at The Manor. Does she have a fucking radar on me? Some papers are thrust against the window, and soon after, her indignant face. Fuck me, I’m pretty sure if those lips met the glass, they’d spread to each edge. “The chef wants approval today,” she says, moving back when I open the door to get out. I take the menu. “And Ken wants to talk.”

  “Not interested.”

  “And you signed the wrong section of the accounts.”

  “I did?”

  “And John’s got a leak in the plant room again.”

  My shoulders drop.

  “And Mario wants your approval on the anniversary cocktail.”

  Fuck this. I stuff the papers back into Sarah’s chest and head for the garages.

  “Where are you going?” she calls, tottering after me. “We have work to do.”

  “You have work to do. I’m taking the day off.”

  “Again?”

  I don’t entertain her, opening the doors of the garage with my fob and grabbing my helmet. Today is shit already. I need to rectify it.

  “You’re wearing a suit,” she goes on, prompting me to shrug off my jacket and dump it on a nearby shelving unit. “Jesse, I can’t do everything myself.”

  “I pay you good money to do all the things, Sarah. You always managed fine when I was in an alcohol-induced coma.” I shove my helmet on and straddle my bike.

  “That was different. You were incapable.”

  “I’m incapable now.” I kick the stand up and start the engine, revving loudly. “Or was it because you knew where I was all the time and now you don’t?”

  “What?” she yells, scowling fiercely, her hands over her ears.

  “Never mind.” I speed away, the front of my shirt sticking to my chest, the back ballooning.

  You should wear leathers too.

  I twist the throttle harder.

  * * *

  I kill a couple of hours in the countryside before collecting my car and driving back into the city, and I only just manage to hold myself back until after lunch to call Ava.

  The endless weight across my shoulders alleviates immediately when she answers. “I like,” she says. The ringtone. She likes the ringtone I chose. And she hasn’t given me a hard time for invading her phone.

  “Me too,” I say. “We’ll make love to it later.”

  “You’re not seeing me later.” She sounds sure. She shouldn’t be.

  “I miss you,” I say around my pout.

  “You miss me?”

  “I do.” I sound like a sullen child. “I miss you.” Something terrible. Days are no longer endless alcohol-induced hazes. They’re just endless. I pull up across the road from her office and find her standing by her desk, one heel pulled up to her arse. I smile. “Don’t go out tonight.” My words were supposed to be soft. Pleading. Unfortunately, they sounded more demanding.

  “Don’t,” she says slowly, falling heavily into her chair, her move displaying her exasperation. “I’ve made plans.”

  Yes, plans that don’t involve me, and that’s a problem. I hate that she can so easily resist me. Even if I know she really can’t. It’s ridiculous. She’s cutting her nose off to spite her face. “You know, you may be at work, but don’t think I won’t come down there and fuck some sense into you.”

  There’s a brief silence, and I know she’s wondering if I’d actually do that. “Knock yourself out,” she whispers, and I laugh.

  “I was serious, lady.”

  “I know you were.”

  “Do your legs ache?”

  “Ish.”

  “Ish,” I whisper, relaxing in my seat, the stress draining. She’s aching for all the wrong reasons. I should make her an offer she can’t refuse. My hands working those sore muscles all night. All weekend.

  Don’t crowd her.

  But I’ve already concluded that she likes being crowded. Especially by my body.

  Does she like being told what to do?

  Stupid fucking question. I’ve never met such a difficult woman. “Remember our deal?”

  “No reminder fuck required.” She’s back out of her chair, stretching.

  “Watch your mouth, Ava. And I’ll decide when and if a reminder fuck is necessary.” And one is definitely necessary now.

  “Roger that.”

  I exhale, accepting that while I can’t get my hands on her, I’ll never win. “When will I see you?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  It pains me. Physically pains me. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “Noon,” she fires in return.

  “Eight.”

  “Eleven.”

  “Eight,” I snap.

  “You’re supposed to meet me halfway!”

  I’m slowly accepting that she’s going out tonight, whether I like it or not. “I’ll see you at eight.” I end the call and watch as her foot drops from her arse and she looks down at the screen. I know what she’s thinking. She’s thinking I’m impossible.

  She’s a gem. As much as I love her to death, I do not understand her mentality sometimes. Not that I have any knowledge of relationships, but surely you don’t always want to test the boundaries of your partner, right? I’ve never met a woman who can push for her own . . . opinions so consistently. Relentlessly.

  I still love her, though.

  * * *

  One o’clock to seven is a blur of nothingness. As I walk up the path to Kate’s front door, I meet Sam on the doorstep. My eyebrows shoot up as he buttons the fly of his jeans. “What are you doing here?” he asks. “The girls are going out.”

  “I know,” I grunt, pushing past him.

  “Have you told her yet?”

  “Won’t everyone just stop with that?”

  “Easy.” He laughs. “So, what are you doing here?”

  I peek up the stairs, hearing the whir of a hairdryer. She’s up there, making herself look even more celestial, ready to go out and dazzle every man in sight. And there’s fuck all I can do about it without causing a monumental shitstorm. Right now, that seems more appealing than the alternative.

  “Exacting damage control,” I say to myself as Kate appears at the top of the stairs, her head a mass of Velcro round things.

  She frowns. “Hey, what are you doing here? We’re going out.”

  “Rub it in, why don’t you,” I mutter, taking the stairs two at a time, unfastening my jacket as I go. Kate moves back, allowing me to pass.

  “Who’s pissed you off?” she asks, making Sam chuckle downstairs.

  “I’m not pissed off.”

  “You sure?”

  “No.” I push my way into Ava’s room gingerly, finding her going through some drawers. Underwear. She’s looking for underwear. Lace? My dick punches against my trousers, wanting out. My thirty-seven-year-old ego pouts at the thought of this gorgeous, mid-twenties goddess finding better than what I have to offer. Ten years plus, history, secrets.

  I’m moving across the carpet like a gazelle before any sense or reason can find me. Take her. Mark her. Make her mine.

  She’s already yours.

  “What—” Ava says over her shoulder as I grab her, tossing her onto the bed, relishing her gasps and yelps as I pin her down and seal our mouths. The sounds she’s making are sounds of both surprise and lust, and I turn her over fast, pulling her hips up to meet my groin, my hand slipping between her thighs. Wet. Ready. I make fast work of releasing myself and leveling up, pushing my way inside her on a restrained roar. She squeals in shock at my ruthless invasion, and my hand quickly finds her mouth.

  “Quiet,” I order, powering into her mercilessly, every muscle of mine tense, every one of hers squeezing me beautifully. I stare down at her flawless back, my jaw tight, my vision clouded by a passion and lust that’s beyond my control. When I’m inside her, there is nothing else. Nowhere my mind can wander. Only she exists—how she feels, how she looks, how she sounds. Her sodden, hot flesh blistering me. The shockwaves riding through me collect together and deliver one hell of a sucker punch to my heart.

  I release my hand from her mouth, and she gasps, her head thrown back in ecstasy. “Jesse!”

  “I said, quiet,” I grate, my eyes dropping to her arse, seeing my cock entering and withdrawing, the sight dizzying. She’s meeting every one of my punishing advances, her hands clutching at the bedding. I’m going to come so hard, it might knock me out. Good. Hopefully, I’ll come around in the morning when she’s home from her night out, because I am not winning this battle. I know that. I know her. But, make no mistake, I will win the fucking war. I’ll be scarred. Beaten. Wounded. But I’ll win.

  My hands squeeze her hips as she blesses my hearing with the sounds of her pleasure, blood whooshing up my dick, my shaft becoming sore with the friction. She starts hitting the pillow, her yells suppressed. She’s coming, and by the sound of it, as hard as I am.

  Fuck! I plunge deep one last time, my climax catching me off guard, my body folding over Ava’s collapsed form, my dick surging relentlessly, emptying inside of her. She groans. I pant. Holy fucking shit, if that doesn’t convince her to come home to me, I have no fucking clue what will.

  “Please, tell me that it’s you,” she wheezes, both of us a useless pile of breathlessness.

  I smile. “It’s me.” Turning my face into her skin, I lap up the salt mixed with me and her. “Don’t be having another shower,” I whisper.

  “Why?”

  I hiss as I withdraw, my dick pleading to go back. Turning her over, I secure her to the bed and take a few moments admiring her flushed face and drowsy eyes. Perhaps she’s too exhausted to go out. Wouldn’t that be satisfying? “Because, I want me all over you when you’re out.” I kiss her softly, taking that little bit more life I need, floating away.

  “Do men have an instinct for recently fucked women?”

  And then she brings me back down to earth with her disgusting language. “Mouth.” I lick my lips and flinch. Alcohol. I can taste alcohol. “You’ve had a drink.”

  “No.”

  Her arms tense in my hold. If I didn’t have them secured to the bed, her fingers would be in her hair twiddling wildly. I have every right to be concerned about her night out. She’s no intention of abstaining, only from me, and that’s a kick in the teeth. “No more,” I command in vain, indulging myself again in her mouth, ignoring the faint edge of wine on her tongue and focusing on tasting only her. Lucky for me, she’s far more potent than wine. “I was hoping to find you in lace.” My fingers trace a blazing trail down her body and drift in between her legs.

  “You would have ruined it.”

  I slip my fingers inside of her, and she stiffens, gripping me fiercely. Oh, you want more, baby? Can’t get enough? Me neither. Suddenly, I’m very much the one in control, and maybe, just maybe, I might win this battle after all.

  “Probably.” I would have torn that lace from her body without apology. “Don’t be wearing anything ridiculous either.” Alcohol, a sexy dress, her otherworldly beauty. It’s a recipe for disaster. I scoop my fingers wide, staring down at her, waiting for her to find the right answer.

  “I won’t.” She tosses her head from side to side, and I smile, her clitoris vibrating against the pad of my thumb.

  “Are you going to come, Ava?”

  “Yes.” She becomes deranged, her legs tensing and kicking out, her eyes clouding. “Please!”

  Got you, lady. I shrink the space between our faces, breathing across her skin, sweeping my fingers through her cruelly. “Hmm, that feel good, baby?”

  “Oh God,” she chokes, trying to catch my mouth. “Jesse, please.”

  “You want me?” I ask, pulling back. Denying her.

  “Yes.”

  I smile on the inside. “Do you want to please me, Ava?”

  “Yes. Jesse, please!”

  I give her one last feel of my thumb circling her buzzing nerves and then pull away, getting up off the bed.

  “What are you doing?” she gasps.

  Not a fucking clue. “You want me to finish the job?”

  “Yes!”

  Me too. But . . . “Don’t go out,” I order, watching as realization descends and the red of her cheeks turns from flushed to hopping mad.

  “No!”

  So I don’t win the battle after all. She’s so fucking stubborn. If it was me on the receiving end of that kind of performance from her, I would do absolutely anything she asked. Sign my life away. I need to fuck that irritating streak of defiance out of her. “My work here is done,” I whisper, regarding her closely as I kiss fresh air. She looks plain furious as I turn and walk away, pulling the door closed behind me harshly.

  “I’ll sort myself out then!” The force of her yell hits me in the back as I take the stairs.

  “No, you won’t,” I whisper, leaving before I give in to my compulsion to physically restrain her.

  “All right?” Sam asks when I reach the front door.

  “Fine. What are you still doing here?”

  “I thought you’d need some company while you stew for the next few hours.”

  “Good,” I reply. “I do.”

  “She’s in love with you, Jesse.”

  “That won’t stop some young prick making a pass at her. Or her drinking. Or, apparently, her fighting me at every fucking turn.” I pass him, stalking to my car. “Where are we going?”

  “Your place?”

  “I’ll call Drew.” I reach for my phone.

  “Don’t bother.”

  I frown. “Why?’

  “He’s taken that girl out. The one Ava works with.”

  “The one who looks like she’s got a stick up her arse?”

  “More like a tree trunk.” Sam stops me from getting in my car, his hand on my shoulder. I know what’s coming, so I get in first.

  “I’ve asked her to the anniversary party,” I say, and his head retracts. “Therefore, I have to tell her about The Manor in the next two weeks.”

  He nods. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  “Am I?” I haven’t a clue what I’m doing these days.

  Sam shrugs. “What else can you do?”

  “Keep my secrets.”

  He laughs. “The Manor is a pretty big fucking secret to keep.”

  The Manor has nothing on the rest of the surprises I have in store for Ava.

  Nothing.

  * * *

  Sam completely bypasses the fridge when we enter the kitchen, heading for the kettle and flicking it on. I roll my eyes at his back as he goes about making tea, plonking myself on a stool, spinning my phone in my grasp.

  “Chill the fuck out, will you?” he says without turning away from the worktop.

  My hand stills. “I’m fine.”

  He laughs, squeezing the tea bags and dumping them in the bin. “Sure.”

  I get up, restless, and start pacing the kitchen, glancing at my Rolex. She’ll be in a bar by now. Drinking. Being admired. “How’s Kate?” I ask out of nowhere. I need to distract myself or there’s a high possibility of me tracking Ava down and making sure she’s okay, and we all know that won’t go down very well.

  Sam turns, two mugs in his hands, his head slightly cocked. “Do you actually care?” His eyes follow me as I make another circuit of the island.

  “Of course I care.”