Beneath This Man (62 page)

He sighs and rests his chin on the top of my head. ‘Why?’ he croaks, kissing my head. ‘I don’t understand.’

 If I could talk, I would be throwing that right back at him. Why exactly?

‘Ava, I need to see your back.’ He makes to move again and pain slices through me. I clench my dry eyes shut and let him move me until I’m sitting up on his lap.

The gravity smacks right into my stomach and I’m suddenly heaving, my stomach convulsing, my body jerking, which only serves to increase the pain further. I double over on his lap.

 ‘Oh God!’ He places his hand on my back in an instinctive move to soothe me while my stomach decides if there’s anything left inside me to bring up. The hot contact of his hand has me jolting forward on a cry and my stomach deciding that yes, there is something left to evacuate.

I throw up all over the floor.

‘Shit! Ava, I’m sorry. Oh, fuck!’ He pulls my hair from my face and tentatively moves to get better access to me. ‘Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ava, what have you done?’ His traumatised voice tells me he has just copped a load of my back. It must look as bad as it feels. I’m desperately trying to get a handle of my retching in an attempt to minimise the pain. ‘I’m going to move you now, okay?’ He grasps me under my arms and stands. I cry out. ‘I can’t lift you without touching you.’ He grunts a few frustrated curses as he tries to maneuver me to the other couch without catching my back.

My legs are still wobbly and unsteady. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to see me again on the grounds of feebleness. I never imagined this, but there was no discussion when I handed Steve the whip. Other than my request of no physical contact with him and to give it to me hard, I said nothing. I practically gave him free reign.

‘Get on your front.’ He lowers me to the sofa on my stomach, and I put my arms under my head as a pillow. ‘Ava, I can’t believe you’ve done this,’ He kneels by the sofa and pulls over a glass bowl of water with a bottle of purple liquid. He squirts the liquid into the water and takes the roll of cotton wool, tearing some off before dipping it in the solution and squeezing off the excess. ‘This is going to sting, baby. I’ll be gentle, okay?’ He puts his face in my field on vision and my eyes lift with some effort, finding green pools of total anguish.

I stare blankly at him, all muscles refusing to work.

‘I’m furious with you.’ he says softly. He lowers his lips to mine and kisses me gently and it’s the first time ever that I don’t have to fight to respond, and it’s not because I don’t want to.

He shakes his head, returning his attention to my back, and I pull in a severe, distressed breath as he unclasps my bra gently, letting the straps lie to the sides. Then I feel the soft cotton wool skimming over my skin. It feels like he is dragging barbed wire across my back. I sob.

‘I’m sorry.’ he blurts. ‘I’m so sorry.’

I turn my face into my arms and clench my teeth as he attempts to coat me in the solution, refreshing the cotton wool repeatedly and reloading it with the warm mixture for each painful swipe. He curses with each one of my flinches.

When I hear the bowl scrap across the table, I let out a long, thankful lungful of air. I turn my face back outwards and see the purple tinged water is now stained red and has all the used cotton wool balls piled inside, soaking up the liquid. He gets up from beside me and returns swiftly with a bottle of water.

He crouches in front of me. ‘Can you sit up?’ 

I nod and start the painful process of getting myself up into a sitting position on the couch with Jesse flapping and cursing in front of me. My bra falls onto my lap and I half-heartedly attempt to pull it back over my boobs.

‘Leave it.’ He pushes my hands away and puts the water into my grasp. ‘Open your mouth.’ he orders softly. I comply without thought, letting my mouth fall open, accepting the two pills he puts on my tongue. ‘Drink.’

The bottle feels like an iron weight as I lift it to my mouth. He places his hand on the base to alleviate some of the weight, and I welcome the ice cold water into my mouth. Jesse walks over to his desk and grabs his keys, phone and t-shirt. Stuffing them in various pockets, he then pulls his t-shirt over his head and down his body as he walks back towards me. Doesn’t his back hurt? Am I being a complete baby? 

He gets my clothes from the back of the sofa and crouches back in front of me. ‘I’m taking you home.’ He opens my jeans at my feet, taps my ankle and I lift, repeating on the other before he helps me up and pulls my jeans up my legs.

He looks from the t-shirt, to my exposed breasts, and then to me with a slight frown. The thought of anything resting on my skin makes me want to vomit again, but I can’t be walking out of here and into
Lusso
naked from the waist up.

‘Can we try?’ He stretches the neck of my t-shirt and pulls my dangling bra from my arms before easing it over my head.

I start lifting my arms to accommodate Jesse’s hold on the t-shirt, but tears start to stab at my eyes with the effort and painful stings. I shake my head frantically. It’s going to hurt too much.

‘Ava, I don’t know what to do.’ He holds the t-shirt away from my body. ‘I can’t let you walk out there with nothing on.’ He bends down and looks at me. ‘Please, don’t cry.’ He kisses my forehead as tears stream down my face. ‘Oh, fuck it!’ He pulls the t-shirt back over my head and throws it on the sofa. ‘Come here.’ He bends and curls his arm under my bum and lifts me up with one arm. ‘Wrap your legs around my waist, arms around my neck. Be careful.’ I do as I’m told slowly and carefully. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks.

I nod into his shoulder and link my ankles around the small of his back. I feel him pull my hair over my shoulder and rest his palm on the nape of my neck, holding me as tight as he can without inflicting further pain. My boobs are squished to his chest, my back completely exposed, but I couldn’t care less. He strides to the door and releases my neck to open it, before replacing his hand securely at my nape.

‘Okay, baby?’ he asks, walking down the corridor into the summer room. I nod into his neck. I’m far from okay. I feel like I’ve been lying directly on the sun, all of my skin burnt away, exposing raw flesh. ‘John!’ he yells. There’s a succession on shocked gasps, all sounding more shocked than when I was carried in.

‘How’s the girl?’ John’s low voice is close by.

‘How does she fucking look? Get a cotton sheet from the cleaning quarters.’

John doesn’t retaliate to Jesse’s shortness.

‘Jesse, is there anything I can do?’

I hear a female’s voice full of alarm and her heels clicking on the floor of the summer room as she tries to keep up with Jesse.

‘No, Natasha.’ he replies harshly. I can’t even muster up the strength to raise my head and throw her a filthy look. Is there anything she can do? What? Like fuck him again?

 ‘Ava?’ Kate’s fretting tone assaults my ears. ‘Oh, fucking hell. What have you done, you stupid cow!’

‘I’m taking her home.’ Jesse is not stopping for anyone, not even Kate. ‘She’s fine, I’ll call you.’

‘Jesse, she’s bleeding!’

‘I know, Kate. I fucking know!’ I feel his chest rise under me. ‘I’ll call you.’ he appeases her, and I don’t hear her again, but I do hear Sam soothing her, his usual chirpy voice layered with concern.

I know we’re getting close to the entrance hall because the cool air starts to slowly spread across my back. It’s a welcome sensation.

‘Jesse, mate, I didn’t know.’

Jesse halts abruptly and silence falls, all concerned chatter coming to a complete halt as I hear Steve’s voice drift into my ears. I squeeze Jesse’s body with what little strength I can find, and he nuzzles my neck.

‘Steve, you want to be thanking all that’s fucking holy I’ve got my girl in my arms, because if I didn’t, the cleaners would be scooping up your remains for a fucking year.’ Jesse’s voice is acidic, his heart pounding wildly.

‘I….I…’ Steve stammers and stutters over his words. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘No one told you she was mine?’ Jesse asks, clearly shocked.

‘I…I assumed…I...’

‘She’s MINE!’ Jesse roars, jolting me in his arms. I whimper from the flash of searing pain that his movement instigates and he tenses, pushing his face into the crook of my neck. ‘I’m sorry.’ he whispers. I feel his jaw ticking against me. ‘You’re a fucking dead man, Steve.’ He stands still for a few moments and I know he’s glaring at Steve with murder carved all over his face. I feel responsible.

‘Jesse?’ John’s rumble breaks the screaming silence. ‘S’all good. Priorities, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ Jesse picks up his feet again and the slow building cool air is suddenly sharp and pelting at my back. He walks slowly down the steps.

‘I’ll get the door.’ Kate’s says as her heels clatter down the steps.

‘I’ve got it, Kate.’

‘Jesse, stop being such a pigheaded twat and accept the fucking help! You are not the only one who cares about her.’

I’m squeezed against him. ‘My keys are in my back pocket.’

Kate’s hand brushes over my jeans as she negotiates the keys out of Jesse’s pocket, and I smile on the inside at my fiery friend living up to her reputation. My eyes open and catch Kate’s.

‘Oh, Ava.’ She shakes her head and bleeps Jesse’s car open.

Jesse turns back towards The Manor. ‘Everyone needs to fuck off back inside.’ He doesn’t want anyone to see me. I hear the crunching of gravel under footsteps as Jesse waits with me in his arms, ensuring everyone has gone before he releases me from his body. ‘Ava, I’m going to ease you down, you need to turn onto your side and face the driver’s seat. Can you do that?’ he asks softy. I loosen my grip of his neck to show my willingness and be begins slowly lowering me down into the car. ‘Don’t lean back.’

I shift slowly on the soft leather until my shoulder is resting against the seat and I’m facing the driver’s side. Fucking hell, it hurts. He then lays a light sheet over me before shutting the door softly without even attempting to get the seatbelt over me. My head falls against the seat and my eyes close of their own accord. In no time at all, the driver door shuts and Jesse’s scent invades my nose. I open my eyes and adjust my vision until I’m confronted with green, pitiful eyes. I feel pitiful.  I’m a hopeless, pathetic waif of a woman who has caused all of this chaos, pain and aching because I was trying to prove a point – a point I pray to God I’ve made successfully because if I’ve put myself through all of this, put Jesse through this and he still doesn’t get it, then it’s finished. Over. We can’t do this to each other. The thought makes my heart rate slow.

He reaches over and brushes my cheek with his knuckles. ‘Stop.’ he orders, wiping another tear away, but I’m not crying with pain anymore. I’m crying in desperation.

He turns the engine over and drives slowly down the driveway, the rushed roar and madcap driving skills that I’ve fast become accustomed to, sidelined for a sensible purr of the DBS’s engine. He takes corners carefully, accelerates and brakes gently and flicks his eyes to me at regular intervals. I’m beltless, half naked and displaying angry wounds all over my back. If the police stopped us, it would take some interesting explaining.

I remain still and stare blankly at the profile of my handsome, troubled man and wonder whether I could be classed as troubled now too. My sanity is certainly questionable, but I’m sane enough to admit that. I was a normal, sound-minded girl. I definitely don’t qualify for that anymore.

The silence of the journey home is filled only by the humming of the car and the background sound of Snow Patrol’s
Run
.

Jesse pulls up to
Lusso
and makes his way around to my side of the car, helping me out while trying to keep me covered. ‘God only knows what Clive is going to think.’ he mutters as he lifts me back onto his chest. I suddenly feel panicky. ‘Ava, unless you let me drape this sheet over your back, there is nothing I can do.’ He sandwiches the sheet between our chests and does his best to hold it out to the side, shielding me from one angle before walking into the foyer.

‘Mr Ward?’ Clive sounds perplexed. The poor man has seen me drunk and carried; defiant and carried; sick and carried; tired and carried. It must be clear that I am none of the above.

‘I’ve got it, Clive.’ Jesse tries his best to sound unaffected, but I’m not sure he pulls it off. We get into the elevator and the surrounding mirrors bounce our reflection off in every direction. Everywhere I look, I can see Jesse’s disturbed face and my fragile body wrapped around him. I close my eyes and let my head go heavy on his shoulder, feeling the motions of his long, easy strides as he carries me from the elevator, through the penthouse and to the master-suite.

‘Easy.’ He lowers me to the bed on my front.

My arms slide under the pillow and I sink my head into the softness, taking a small comforting inhale of Jesse’s scent. I feel my jeans being pulled from my legs and a few moments later, Jesse is lying next to me, mirroring my position. He keeps one hand free and reaches over to smooth his palm over my cheek, no doubt getting the contact he always needs. It’s all he can do. There will be no flipping me onto my back or thrusting me up against the wall anytime soon.

We lay forever, just gazing across at each other. It’s comfortable. No words need to be said. I let him caress my face and I fight my eyes heaviness for a short while before he runs his thumbs over my lids and they don’t re-open.

Chapter 32

I know if I stretch, I’ll yelp really loud. The overwhelming need to spread myself out is playing havoc with my natural instinct to remain still and curtail the aching and stinging. All of the previous day’s events come crashing into my head before my eyes open – all of the hideousness, all of the sounds of whips, the flashes of pain, the anguish and torment. It has all just landed with a spectacular wallop followed by a little greeting courtesy, right in my morning brain.

My eyes open and I spy Jesse sound asleep and in the same position as I last remember him being. His hand is resting on my cheek, his face close to mine, his lips parted and breathing steady, peaceful breaths into my face. He looks so serene, his long lashes fanning his face, his hair its usual morning disheveled mop of dirty blonde. He has his morning stubble and his untroubled, handsome face close to mine brings a small smile to me. Past all of his annoying, challenging ways is a deeply messed up man, who drinks, fucks and has had himself whipped to punish himself. I’m a huge contributing factor to his sorry state, but if it’s as he says and he punished himself because he thinks he deserves it, that everything happening is because of his past, then I may as well lock myself up in a glass case for the rest of my life.