Beneath This Man (27 page)

‘Never,’

I smile smugly as I absorb him in all of his fresh water loveliness. ‘I don’t need a reminder fuck. You can still come to lunch.’

‘Mouth.’ He laughs. ‘I’m sorry. I really needed to see you before I go.’

I stiffen instantly at his words. Well, one word in particular;
sorry
. Shit! I had forgotten about his midnight meltdown. Well, not forgotten, it just hadn’t landed in my morning brain yet.

‘What’s wrong?’ He’s sensed my sudden tenseness. He places me on the cool marble, but it doesn’t shock me like it did the other morning. I’m too busy searching my brain for the best way to approach this.

‘You woke up in the night.’ I inform his concerned face.

‘I did?’ His brow furrows, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

‘You don’t remember?’ I ask tentatively.

‘No.’ he says on a shrug. ‘What do you want for breakfast?’ He leaves me on the counter and goes to the fridge. ‘Eggs, bagel, fruit?’

Is that it? ‘You said you need me.’ I throw it in the air and hope he catches it.

He doesn’t. He lets it drop straight to the floor and tramples all over it. ‘And? I say that when I’m awake.’ He doesn’t even turn away from the fridge.

‘You said you were sorry.’ I place my hands under my thighs.

He turns around from the fridge. ‘I’ve said that when I’m awake too.’

This is true, he’s said it all when he’s awake, but he was in such a state.

He smiles. ‘Ava, I was probably having a bad dream. I don’t remember.’ He turns back to the fridge.

‘You were just a bit frantic, I was worried.’ I say timidly. It wasn’t normal.

He shuts the fridge door, harder than is really necessary, and I immediately regret bringing this up. I’m not scared of him. I’ve seen him go off at the deep end plenty of times, but the way he is holding himself is making me wary. I don’t want to start a fresh day on a quarrel.  It was just sleep talk, after all.

He wanders over to me chewing his bottom lip, and I watch him with caution. When he reaches me, he muscles between my legs and takes my hands out from under my thighs, holding them between us and stroking the tops with his thumbs.

‘Stop worrying about what I say in my sleep. Did I say I didn’t love you?’ he asks softy.

I feel my brow knit. ‘No.’

His green eyes twinkle as one side of his mouth tips upwards at the corner. ‘That’s all that matters.’ He plants a kiss on my forehead.

I pull away from his lips. Yes, actually, it does matter. He’s doing it again. He’s evading. ‘That wasn’t normal. And I’m getting pissed off hearing that tone.’ I scowl, real hard, and he recoils in shock, his mouth gaping slightly, but I don’t give him a chance to come back at me. ‘You either talk, or I’m gone.’

His gaping mouth shuts, but he still doesn’t speak. I’ve shocked him.

I raise cocky eyebrows at him. ‘What’s it to be?’

‘You said you’d never leave me.’ he says quietly.

‘Okay. Let me rephrase that. I won’t leave you if you start answering me when I ask you something. How about that?’

He’s chewing his lip and staring at me, but I don’t look away. I maintain the eye contact and keep a deadly serious face. His thumb strokes become firmer. ‘It’s not important.’

I laugh in disbelieve and make to move, but he moves in closer, hampering my attempts to get myself down from the counter. ‘Jesse, I’ll walk away.’ I so won’t, I know this.

‘I dreamt you were gone.’ He fires the words out quickly, almost panicky.

I stop with my struggle to free myself. ‘What?’

‘I dreamt I woke up, and you were gone.’

‘Gone where?’

‘I don’t fucking know,’ He releases his grip of me and his hands plunge straight into his hair. ‘I couldn’t find you.’

‘You dreamt I left you?’

His frown line is fierce. ‘I don’t know where you went. Just gone.’

‘Oh.’ I don’t know what else to say. He won’t look at me. He got himself in that state over me leaving him?

‘It wasn’t a nice dream, that’s all.’ He’s embarrassed, and I suddenly feel a little guilty. This is a serious hang up.

‘I’m not leaving you,’ I try to reassure him, ‘but we’ve got to talk. I have to torture information out of you, Jesse. It’s exhausting.’

‘I’m sorry.’

I reach forward and pull him back between my thighs. This is one of those moments – the ones where I’m the strong one. They are becoming more frequent as I’m working out this man. ‘Have you had bad dreams before?’

‘No.’ He accepts my hold and squeezes me tight to him.

‘Because you drank.’

‘No, Ava. I’m not an alcoholic.’

‘I didn’t say you were.’ I hold him tightly, feeling a little sad for him, but quietly pleased that he’s opened up. He is so strong and self-assured, but these little cracks are becoming more obvious. Am I making these cracks?

‘Can I make you a well-balanced breakfast now?’ He pulls out from my clinch.

‘Yes, please.’

‘What do you want?’

I shrug. ‘Toast.’

‘Toast?’ he asks questioningly. I nod. It’s six thirty in the morning. My stomach hasn’t woken up yet. ‘It’s hardly well-balanced.’ he mutters.

‘It’s too early to eat.’

‘No, it’s not. You’ll eat. You’re too thin.’ He releases me and goes to put some bread in the toaster.

 I lower myself down from the island and take a seat on a stool to admire him as he faffs around the kitchen. I’m touched. He openly admits he’s crap at cooking so the fact he has offered to make me breakfast is quite pleasing. Resting my elbows on the worktop, I sit my chin in my palms and study him. He had a bad dream. Or nightmare. Either or, though, he told me, and that must have been hard. He’s a big, strapping man who was reduced to a cowering mess by a bad dream. I hope they are not frequent because it was horrible seeing him like that – scared and vulnerable. I didn’t like it

 I sigh to myself. He looks as handsome as ever this morning. He’s not shaved, and I love the one day stubble on him. He’s hasn’t got a full suit on, just charcoal grey trousers and a black shirt. I might change my mind about lunch so he is forced to give me a reminder fuck.  

I watch him gather the butter, knives and plates and place everything in front of me on the island. Then he goes back to the fridge, returning to sit next to me with a jar of peanut butter. I look at him in disbelief as he unscrews the lid and dunks his finger in.

He wraps his lips around his coated finger and looks at me with it half hanging out of his luscious mouth. ‘What?’ he mumbles.

‘You’re giving me a hard time about a well-balanced breakfast?’ I flick my gaze to the jar in his hand.

He swallows. ‘Nuts are very healthy. And anyway, you’re more important than me.’

I shake my head and start spreading butter on my toast as he watches me. ‘You’re important to me.’ I grumble to my toast. I look up at him as I wrap my teeth around the corner.

He smiles. ‘I’m glad. So, what’s in your diary today?’ he asks nonchalantly as he dips his finger again.

I choke on my toast and he frowns. Is he serious? I’m not telling him!

‘What’s so shocking about wanting to know what you’re going to be doing?’ he pouts.

I swallow my toast. ‘Oh, nothing,’ I chew a bit more, ‘if I thought you were genuinely interested and not planning a trampling mission.’ My voice is dripping with sarcasm.

‘I am genuinely interested.’ He looks hurt.

I’m not falling for it. ‘I’ll meet you at Baroque at one. I’ve still got to ring Kate and advise her that you’re gatecrashing our ladies’ lunch.’

‘She won’t mind. She loves me.’ he says confidently.

‘That is because you bought her Margo Junior.’ I remind him.

‘No, it is because she told me so.’ He’s so smug.

‘When?’

‘When we were out,’ He pushes my hair from my face. ‘The night I showed you how to dance. The night you got completely k-lined.’

‘K-lined?’ I ask around my toast.

‘Drunk.’ he mouths.

I scoff. ‘Kate must have been drunk too.’ She wasn’t as drunk as me, but that would be difficult. She was well on her way, though – not that it would matter. Kate wouldn’t tell anyone she liked them if she didn’t, and she certainly wouldn’t say she loves them, even if it is a term of endearment.

‘Not just then.’ He scoops his finger in the jar and thrusts it under my nose. I screw my face up and he smirks before licking it off himself.

‘When then?’ I ask casually, taking another bite of my toast. He’s doing this on purpose.

‘At The Manor.’ He tosses it in the air like it’s the most natural thing in the world for Kate to be at The Manor.

My jaw hits the marble counter. I remember Kate went to The Manor on Saturday night and I remember Jesse being called away late Saturday night. It must have been then. She didn’t go into details when I asked her. Fun is what she had said and she didn’t elaborate further. I definitely wasn’t going to push it after her contemptuous reaction to my questioning.

‘What was she doing at The Manor?’ I try to sound casual, but by the look on his face, I’ve failed.

He smiles. ‘That is none of our business.’ He jumps up from the stool and chucks his empty jar in the bin. ‘I’ve got to scram.’

‘Scram?’

‘Like, skedaddle…go…leave.’ He winks at me, and I pool on the stool in a soppy mess. He’s in a good mood this morning, all roguish and playful. I love him. Easygoing Jesse is becoming a more regular visitor these days.

‘I’ve decided that maybe lunch isn’t such a good idea. I don’t want Kate to think we’re joined at the hip.’ I turn away from him and carry on eating my toast in the most blasé manner I can muster. It’s hard when my man is bristling and snarling behind me.

He grabs me, and I squeal as he flips my around and walks me to the wall, pinning me under his delicious body with my toast still in my hand. His eyes are uncertain and I almost feel guilty… almost.

I know what’s coming.

I fight to conceal the grin that’s tickling the corners of my mouth as he bends, leans into me and rolls his hips up so I get a full on stroke at my core. I moan in pure, sneaky satisfaction.

‘You didn’t mean that.’ he says, sliding his hand over my stomach, down towards the apex of my thighs.

‘I did.’ I challenge, and then jerk as his thumb slips over my sensitive flesh. Oh God, I will never get enough of him.

‘Someone is going to be quick.’ he muses, as he continues to ride me with his hand. I sigh, savouring his talented touch working me. ‘Don’t play games with me, Ava.’ He withdraws his hand and steps back from me.

WHAT!

I want to yank him back and shove his hand down below. What the hell is he playing at? I look at him, all
what-the-hell
, and he smirks at me.

‘I’m already late because I wanted to make sure you ate. If I knew you were going to play games with me, I would have fucked you first and feed you after.’ He steps in and makes a point of grinding his ever loving hips against me, moaning in my ear. ‘One o’clock.’ he whispers, before he bites into my suspended toast and pulls away. ‘I love you, lady.’ He looks at me with utter smugness.

‘You don’t.’ I snap. ‘If you did, you wouldn’t abandon me halfway to orgasm.’

‘Hey!’ he yells. He looks pissed. ‘Don’t ever question whether I love you. It’ll make me mad.’

I try and plaster an apologetic look on my face, but in my unexploded state, I’m struggling to convince my brain to do anything other than yank him back into me and make him sort me out. He’s turned on, I can see. How is he walking away?

‘Have a nice day.’ His eyes soften as he leans down and rests his lips on my cheek. ‘I’m going to miss you like crazy, baby.’

Oh, I know he will. But it’s only six hours until our lunch date. He’ll live.

Once I’m ready, I make my way down, clinking on my heels through the foyer as I delve through my bag for my sunglasses.

‘Morning, Ava.’ I hear Clive call to my back.

‘Morning,’ I slip my shades on and emerge into the sunshine, coming to an abrupt halt when I spot John leaning against his Range Rover.

Really?

He lifts his glasses up and shrugs his big shoulders at me. Oh good, he thinks this is stupid too, but I need my car today so I can collect my stuff from Matt’s after work.

I walk over. ‘John, I can drive to work.’ I say on a tired tone.

‘I don’t think you can, girl.’ he rumbles. What’s he talking about?  ‘Your car’s being valeted.’ He shrugs again and slides behind the wheel. I swing around and see an army of men cleaning my car.

Oh, for God’s sake. I drag my keys from my bag and find my car key missing. Later, I will be explaining to Mr Control Freak that snooping through a woman’s handbag – and phone, come to think of it – is bloody rude. Why didn’t he consult me on this? This is bad news. I could ring Kate. She’ll take me. I dial her.

‘Yo!’ She’s chirpy.

‘Hey, can you take me to Matt’s after work to get my stuff?’ I spit my request out as fast as I can.

‘Sure.’

‘Great, see you for lunch. Oh, by the way, Jesse is coming.’ I hang up and jump in next to John. He is wearing his usual ensemble of black suit and black shirt. How many black suits can one man have?

‘Do you think he’s unreasonable and challenging?’ I ask casually, flipping the visor down to put some lip gloss on.

‘Yes, girl,’ he rumbles. ‘But, like I said, only with you.’

I drop my hand into my lap and look over at John, who is tapping the steering wheel as usual. ‘So, he doesn’t behave like a madcap at work then?’

‘Nope.’

I frown. ‘He’s easygoing?’

‘Yep,’

I sigh heavily, just so John knows that I want more than that. ‘Why?’

He looks at me, dazzling me with his white teeth, and I catch a glimpse of the illusive gold one. ‘Girl, don’t be too harsh on the crazy mother fucker. He’s never cared before you.’

I sit back in my seat and listen to John commence humming to match his taps. Jesse can’t have
never
cared for anything. He’s thirty seven.

‘How old is he?’ I ask on a smile, earning myself another dazzler from John.

‘He’s thirty seven. But you know that now, don’t you, girl?’