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)
Ava snorts and slips off the stool, getting her bag on her shoulder. “Cathy, thank you,” she says, directing a reproachful look my way. What did I do? “But I’ll eat at work.” She walks out, leaving me in the kitchen wondering what the fuck happened to the negotiations?
I blink, feeling Cathy looking at me. “She’s pregnant,” I say quietly.
Cathy gasps, and a second later she’s got her hands over her face, her eyes wide. “Oh, Jesse.”
I smile mildly. “We’re thrilled,” I say, seeing she’s unsure how to react. Although you’d never know we’re thrilled.
“Oh, how wonderful!”
The front door slams. What the fuck has gotten into her? It’s the outside world. It doesn’t agree with her. She goes from passive and obedient at home to a fucking nightmare in a heartbeat on the outside world.
“I’ll see you later.” I go after Ava and swing the door open, finding her by the elevator hitting the call button like she hates it. I widen my stance and slip my hands into my pockets, confused by this unexplained outburst. Will pregnancy bring on more sass, because we definitely don’t need that?
“No eggs,” she yells at the closed doors.
And it becomes clear. She’s got the hump because she can’t have eggs?
“You okay?” I ask calmly, hoping she’ll syphon some off me and bring it down a notch or twenty. All over eggs?
“I can eat eggs,” she shouts. I beg to differ. Just ask the World Wide Web. “What’s the new code?”
“Excuse me?” If she asks nicely, I might share. But she doesn’t look like she’s in the mood for nice this morning. Fine by me. It just means she’s going nowhere. Again, fine by me.
“You heard,” she snaps, blindly hitting the keypad as she drills holes into me with her blazing glare.
“Yes, I heard.” Is there any need for this? It’s a complete overreaction. I’m not accepting it. “But I’m giving you a chance to retract that tone.”
She momentarily looks taken aback. I don’t know why. My wife needs to understand that if she’s unreasonable, I will call her out. If she talks to me like I’m a petulant child, I will call her out.
Quickly gathering herself, she deflates with a sigh and comes to me. Oh good. She’s seen reason. I don’t want to leave on bad terms. I don’t want us to leave each other at all, no surprises there.
Coming close, she leans up, and I dip, ready to catch her lips and her apology.
I can smell her breath. Her skin. Her . . . rage?
“Fuck . . . off,” she whispers quietly.
I jerk like I’ve just stuck my fingers in a live socket. What the ever-loving fuck? My ears bleeding, I watch her march away, pushing through the door into the stairwell with a bang. “Over eggs?” I gasp, feeling at my stubble. Jesus, that’s one small thing on a list I got fed up of reading. I know Ava won’t read it, so it’s down to me, which means it’s also down to me to share the information I learn. “Pray for me,” I say to myself, laughing under my breath when the elevator dings and the doors slide open.
Praying, bro.
I step inside and hope the thirteen flights Ava has to descend will be enough time for her to calm the fuck down. Clive looks up from his desk when I step out, his old face expressing his question before he asks it.
“No Mrs. Ward this morning, Mr. Ward?”
“She’s taking the scenic route,” I say, going to the stairwell door and waiting for her. I suppose this is one of the things she was talking about. Levels of smothering. Ava’s a smart woman. She must know pregnant women can’t eat eggs. She doesn’t want the eggs. She just doesn’t want me to tell her that she can’t have the fucking eggs.
The second the door opens, I move forward and walk her back into the stairwell, getting her up against the closest wall. She’s gasping for breath. Her cheeks are red. Her forehead’s damp.
“You’re not getting an apology fuck,” she breathes, her look an endearing mix of lust and pure filth. Her heart isn’t only hammering from overexertion now.
Close.
Contact.
“Mouth,” I say calmly.
“No, you’re not—” I cover her mouth with mine, slipping my tongue past her lips and sweeping wide, swallowing down her defiance, and she’s with me, grabbing my suit, climbing me like a fucking tree. Oh, she’s delightfully receptive. It makes her sulks laughable.
“Stubborn woman,” I whisper, nibbling at her lobe. “Someone’s gagging for it.” And it won’t hurt to remind her that no matter what, I can take her from zero to one hundred on the horny scale with one kiss and one touch. “Shall I make you scream in the stairwell, Ava?” I ask, smiling as she clings to me, silently begging me for it. Insatiable. Why does she fight it? I’ve got to admit, though. I do enjoy proving to her who has the power.