Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
I hear the creaking of wood above my head, look up and see a slat bowing. Another yank, and it cracks. Mind over matter. I growl and wrench my arm down, firing a few fucks, and the wood gives, splintering, and with one more bellow and pull, the headboard surrenders, and my hand drops to the mattress limply. “Fuck,” I hiss, brushing away the remnants of wood from around me with my good hand, shaking some life into my dead one. I jump up and hurry to the bathroom, bowling in and taking in the scene—Ava slumped on the floor, sweating profusely, as white as a sheet. My brain takes its time figuring out what I’m looking at, how I should deal with it.
Then her eyes widen and she flings her arms out, catching the toilet.
And throws up.
The smell hits me like a bat to my face.
“Jesus, baby,” I whisper, moving in behind her and crouching, taking her hair and holding it up while she convulses, unable to catch her breath between retches. And, of course, all I can think about is why she’s throwing up.
“I’m fine.”
“Clearly.” Will she finally relent and have the conversation we need to have? “Let me look at you,” I say, dropping to my arse and turning her to face me, my hand still numb. She looks wiped out. Clammy, pasty, exhausted.
“Still want to fuck me?”
“Ava, please.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Lady, you’ll kill me off, I swear.” I make a vain attempt to pick some wet strands off her sweaty cheek. “You okay?”
“No,” she admits. “I feel sick.”
I welcome her into my chest when she puts herself there. Hiding? “Why do you think that is?” I ask, nibbling my lip, feeling her limp, lifeless body become hard against me.
The silence stretches. It’s so fucking uncomfortable. “Take me to bed,” she eventually mumbles, her tone begging me to leave it there. “Please.”
I look up to the ceiling, forcing some patience forward. She’s maddening. “You are the most frustrating woman on the fucking planet,” I tell her as I get us both to our feet. “You want to brush your teeth?”
“Please.” She pouts, looking small and frail.
“Everything will be fine,” I say softly, feeling at her face, making sure she’s looking at me. Is that what she needs to hear? Reassurance?
“Okay.” She smiles, that’s small and weak too, then her eyes widen and she seizes my hand. “Jesse, what have you done?”
I stare down at my wrist as she inspects the damage. More war wounds. More pain. I take the cuffs off and drop them to the floor. “You keep my heart beating, baby, but you can also make it fucking stop.” And she does, a little each day. “You said you couldn’t live without me, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop trying to kill me off.” I pluck the toothbrush out of the holder and squeeze some paste onto it.
“You’re such a drama queen.”
“There is nothing dramatic about being worried when my wife throws up after I’ve just thrust my cock in her mouth.”
She suddenly comes to life, falling apart laughing. Literally. I’m forced to take her elbow to stop her toppling over. She finds this funny? I can’t say we’re on the same wavelength right now, although it’s nice to see her laughing.
I wait for Ava to pull herself together, chuckling over her apologies. Rubbing at her eyes, I wonder what’s going through her head right now. Does she think I’ve forgotten why we’re in here? She dials her giggles back. “It is quite funny, though.”
Is it? “I’m glad you find it amusing,” I grumble. “Open your mouth.” I give her teeth a brush, her face a wash, and take her back to bed before anything else can go wrong on our special day.
And that’s what hurts. For me, I can’t think of a better way to end our wedding day than finding out we’re expecting. Just forget about how it came to be for a second and think about our future.
“In you get,” I order, scanning the bed one last time for any pieces of splintered wood. Deflating a little, I start to strip.
“I can’t believe I’m spending my first night as your wife in one of your torture chambers.” She looks around the room, which is probably just as well because she doesn’t see me rolling my eyes.
“No one has slept in that bed, Ava.”
“They’ve not?”
Why does she look so surprised? Did she honestly think I’d be cool making a marital bed out of one of the places I used to fuck? “No one has been in this room since I cornered you.” I raise my brows. Take that, Mrs. Ward. “And the bed is new.” What a waste of fucking money it was. And, actually, subpar in the quality department. I’m not sure I’d get away with returning it, though.