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)
“You like it?” Her face looks like it’s about to split.
“Yes,” I grumble. “I like it.” Smooth. Only smooth.
Freak.
“You’re in a bit of a pickle,” she muses casually, “considering you just like it.”
“I’m not in a pickle. It’s no big deal.” I can take it or leave it.
Liar.
“Okay,” Ava says easily. She doesn’t believe me. Do I care?
I roll my eyes to myself and go to her. I might bend her over the island again. It’s been over an hour since I had her handcuffed to the bed. But all forms of fuckings are forgotten when I cop a load of what she’s wearing on her bottom half. Or what she isn’t wearing. “What the hell are they?”
“Shorts.”
I beg to differ. They are not shorts. “You mean knickers?”
“No,” she says slowly. “I mean shorts. If they were knickers, they’d look like this.” She wrenches them up her thighs a bit more, and I very nearly choke on my tongue. Her smooth, tan, firm thighs. Around my waist. Gripping me.
“Ava, come on, be reasonable.”
“Jesse,” she breathes. “I’ve told you, if you want long skirts and roll-neck jumpers, go find someone your own age.”
I recoil, offended, as Ava pulls the offending shorts back into place and ties her laces. “I might go for a swim at The Manor.”
“In a bikini?” I ask, looking across the kitchen for my phone. I’ll call John. Have him close the spa.
“No, in a snowsuit.” She chuckles, mocking me. “Of course in a bikini.”
Whenever has Ava wanted to go for a swim at The Manor? I suppose I should be grateful she’s even coming. But then again, Sarah’s not there. Which is why I have to be there today as promised. We’re in a fucking mess.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
“I’d like to go for a swim.”
“I’d like to strangle you.” I feel like she’s constantly testing me. Setting the standard going forward. I look down her incredible body on a pout. My eyes only. “Why do you do this to me?”
“Because you’re an unreasonable arse and you need to loosen up.” She flips me an accusing look, which is fucking rich. Her level of unreasonableness has been off the charts recently, but since we’ve only just got back on track, I won’t risk derailing us again by challenging her. “You may be an old man,” she goes on, and I roll my eyes, “but I'm only twenty-six. Stop acting like a caveman.” Only if you stop being so fucking defiant. “What’ll happen if we go on a beach holiday?”
It’s a nonissue, because if we go on a beach holiday, the beach will be private. “I thought we could go skiing. I’ll show you how good I am at very extreme sports.”
Her smile lights up the room and my life, and I catch her in my arms as she launches herself at me, carrying her out of the kitchen. “You smell luscious,” she says into my skin, hugging me hard.
I’m sure I saw a jar of Sun-Pat in the fridge in my office. “You feel naked,” I grumble, squeezing her arse cheek. I grab my keys off the side.
“You look edible.”
I stall by the mirror, smiling at myself. I look complete. That’s how I look with Ava clinging to my front. “You taste divine,” I whisper, turning my face into her neck and biting.
“You sound sexy,” she whispers, pushing onto my hips. I growl, she laughs, and I walk on, looking forward to getting this done with and returning home so I can resume this easy bliss. And fuck her some more.
I feel the new concierge’s eyes follow us through the lobby as I carry Ava, my palms spread over her arse cheeks in an attempt to cover them. “Morning, Casey,” she sings, breaking out of my neck.
“Morning, Ava. Morning Mr. Ward.”
“Mrs. Ward,” I grunt.
“Lighten up,” Ava says over a laugh.
“No.” I open the door of my Aston and get her inside, pulling her belt round. “Those shorts, Ava,” I sigh. They take Daisy Duke’s to a whole new level.
She pushes me out of the car and pulls the door closed.
Insolent.
But today, I’m feeling amenable. Loved up. Relaxed.
And punishment fucks are so much more fun than arguing.
John meets us outside The Manor, and I definitely catch his interested look as I lead Ava inside. Yes, her shorts are non-existent. No, I’ve not put my foot down. We’ve only just made friends. Which reminds me . . . are John and I okay now? We’ve not really . . . talked about it. About anything. I look at him flanking me, see him peek out the corner of his eye, even through his shades. I think we’re good. “Ava would like to go swimming,” I say, and he smiles. He already knows this because I texted him in preparation.