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)
“I’m going to make you happy for the rest of my life, baby,” I promise, because from this moment forward, I’m going to try my damned hardest to be more reasonable. Less crazy.
As soon as I know exactly what the deal is with Van Der Haus. Naturally, I’m making no promises on the reasonability vow. I won’t get hung up on it, because I bet my gorgeous wife-to-be couldn’t promise to be less defiant.
“Let’s dance.” I guide her out of the kitchen into the lounge, and I dance with my girl, twirling her, holding her, turning her, and her smile pumps me full of life. There’s not a square inch of our home I don’t dance her through, even out onto the terrace where London is happening down below. And we are happening up here, high above the city.
“What are we doing?” she asks, continuing to humor me, following my random steps.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Something between a waltz and a quickstep, I think.” Could be some tango in there too. Can’t be sure. What I do know is that we’re not winning any ballroom dancing competitions. But we’re definitely both still winning.
Ava chuckles as I work us back into the kitchen, widening my smile, my eyes set firmly on her looking up at me. “I think I enjoy this just as much as being buried inside you.”
“Really?” she gasps, shocked.
“No.” What the fuck am I saying? “That’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever said.”
Her throat comes into my sights when she falls apart laughing, losing all strength in her muscles so I’m practically holding her up. It’s too much to resist, and I home in on her, lifting her to me, relishing the feeling of her locking my waist in her curled legs. Then I just stare at her. I think about our journey. How fucking lucky I am. How I can’t screw this up. She’s given me a second chance.
I sit her on the counter, marveling at her small, unsure smile. Holding her face, I get as close as I can. “Who has the power, Ava?” I whisper.
My question exasperates her. It won’t when she sees my point. “You do.”
I shake my head mildly, and she withdraws slightly. “You’re wrong.”
“I am?”
“You are. You’re the one with the power, baby.”
She doesn’t look like she agrees. “But you always insist it’s you who holds the power.”
Yes, and just the mere fact I bang on about it so much should be a clue. “I like you stroking my ego,” I quip flippantly, and she’s laughing again, filling my heart with happiness.
“Are you joking?”
“No.” Her amusement disappears, and she’s quickly mystified, scanning my face, waiting for what comes next. “I hold the power over your body, Ava,” I say, not quite believing I’m exposing my weakness. “When those beautiful eyes are full of lust for me, that’s when I hold the power.” And to demonstrate, I touch her gently on the inside of her thigh, and as predicted, her back straightens, desire floods her eyes, and she’s clinging to me. Perfect. I kiss her gently. “See.” And step back, losing all contact. “The power’s yours again.”
I watch as she slowly comprehends what I’ve said. As she finally understands. I’m at her mercy. And I absolutely do not mind telling her. “That’s why you fuck me senseless,” she says, biting down on her lip. “Give me the countdown and demand I kiss you when I’m mad.”
I laugh under my breath. Bang on the money. “Watch your mouth,” I say softly, with no scorn at all, smiling like a crazy man. Because, and it’s been proven endless times, when it comes to this woman, I am definitely, certifiably fucking crazy.
“You’ve completely exposed yourself.” She laughs over her words. “I’m never going to let you touch me again.”
My body folds in an instant, and the laughter that comes out of me is the richest, most genuine laughter I’ve ever heard from myself. My eyes pinch with tears, my stomach aches, and when I’ve finally composed myself, I find her watching on, delighted. She loves me laughing. And I fucking love her.
“Well, Mr. Ward,” she says, casually. “Given how much sex we have, I’d say you’re the majority shareholder of power in this relationship.”
“Baby.” I chuckle, off again, fighting for breath through my amusement. “We will never have enough sex.”
She grins. “That makes you a very powerful man then.” And she seems absolutely fine with that.
I sigh, lost in her beguiling brown eyes. “Oh Jesus, Ava. I love you so fucking much.” I cup her cheeks in my hands. “Kiss me.”
“Feeling weak?”
Oh, the sass. “I am.” I tempt her, moving closer, a miniscule dash of contact, and she folds, kissing me deeply, giving me back the power, if only for a moment.
“Better?” she asks.
“Much.” I have never been so content. “Come on, lady, we have a date.” I get her down off the counter and quickly check my watch. Shit. They’ll be waiting in the stairwell. I rush to get her bag and turn off the music, and it occurs to me that I haven’t thought about how the hell I get Ava to come back up to the penthouse once we’re downstairs. Maybe I leave something behind. Ask her to come get it? Stupid. I would never do that. I’d put her in the car and come back myself. “Ready?” Think, think, think.