Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
In my life.
Now all I have to do is ensure she never leaves.
“I’ve got twelve missed calls from you,” she calls.
And bombarding her with calls when I’m having a mild panic attack probably won’t help my cause. I find her at the door. I can’t even muster the appreciation of her naked body. “I couldn’t find you,” I grumble. “I thought you had left.” I’m sweating merely thinking about the feeling of fear as I jogged around the penthouse looking for her. “I had a hundred heart attacks in ten minutes, Ava.” No joke. “Why were you in the other bedroom?”
“I didn’t know how things stood.”
“What does that mean?” What am I, a complete imbecile?
Her shoulders drop, as if she can’t quite believe she’s got to explain. She hasn’t and, actually, I don’t need to hear it, but before I can halt the impending annihilation, she goes on. “Jesse, the last time I saw you, you were a stranger who told me that I was a prick tease and had caused you untold damage. Forgive me for being a bit apprehensive.”
I wince. Cringe. Fold with guilt. Ouch. Fucking, ouch. “I’m sorry,” I murmur sullenly. “I didn’t mean any of it.” I give her sorry eyes, and she shakes her head a little.
“Right.”
“Come here.” I encourage her toward me, needing to get her close again. She climbs onto the bed and lies next to me. “You’ll never see that man again.”
“Will you never drink again?”
“No.” Never. Ava is all I need. My eyes jaunt down the length of her body, my fingertip homing in on her hip. I smile when she shudders.
“Never?” she asks, breathless from the simple touch.
“Never, Ava. All I need is you, and for you to need me. Nothing else.” It’s that simple. She has to understand that, but when a few lines appear on her forehead, I fear she hasn’t understood at all.
“You already made me need you,” she whispers, almost reluctantly. “Then you destroyed me.”
The stab of pain in my gut makes me flinch. Now would not be a good time to devalue her hurt and point out that I was pretty destroyed myself. “I’ll never hurt you.”
“You said that before.” Her eyes scan mine, looking, waiting for my reaction. I won’t disappoint. Another flinch. Here I am, vowing to keep her from harm, and I am the biggest risk of causing it.
“Ava,” I say, getting my face close to hers, desperate for her to comprehend the depth of my devotion. “The thought of you in pain, emotionally or physically, is appalling to me. Completely unspeakable. I feel crazy just thinking about it. What I’ve done to you makes me want to plunge a knife straight through my own heart.”
“That’s a bit over the top, isn’t it?”
She has no fucking clue. Not over the top at all. Justified. “It’s the truth.” And since I’ve found myself forced into speaking a few truths, let’s get something else off my chest. “Just like I feel violent when I imagine another man lusting after you.” Like her ex. Or Van Der Haus.
“You can’t control everything.”
I laugh on the inside. Wanna bet? It’s pretty essential if I’m going to maintain a decent level of calm. She’ll soon grasp that. I hope. “Where you’re concerned, I’ll try my best, Ava.” Or we’re both in trouble. “I already told you, I’ve waited too long for you.” I need to shut the hell up. “You’re my little piece of heaven.” I can’t, my need to express exactly how I feel about her running away with me, maybe assisted by panic. Panic that for me to maintain this bliss, I need Ava’s compliance. And my Ava isn’t very compliant. “Nothing will rob you from me. Nothing.” I kiss her hard, surprising her, trying to find some calm in my self-created madness. “As long as I have you, I have purpose and reason. That is why I won’t be drinking, and that is why I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Understand?” God, how could she not? I can hear myself. I might sound passionate and determined, but I also sound like a fucking lunatic.
Handled with pure style, brother.
I can’t even protest that claim. Style indeed. But Ava still nods, even if she looks slightly alarmed. And as if the world hates me, her eyes drop to my scar, reminding me that I’m going to need more than determination and patience to bat back her relentless enquiries about how it came to be there.
“How did you get this?” she asks.
“Inquisitive this morning, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I already told you, I don’t like talking about it.”
“You’re holding back on me.” She looks up, pissed off, and like the coward I am, I look away, falling to my back and hiding my face from her accusing glare. She’s soon on top of me, and for the first time in the history of our relationship, I can’t get excited about that. She yanks my arm from my face. “Why won’t you tell me about your scar?”