Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“Mrs. O’Shea?”
Ava’s recovering jaw plummets again, and she swipes at me, trying to win her phone back.
“Oh, who’s this?” her mother asks, as I dive out of Ava’s reach.
“I have the pleasure of being with your beautiful daughter.” I suddenly comprehend the reason why my instinct had me hijacking this call. Win her mother over. It’s common knowledge that if a man can win a mother’s approval, he’s halfway to a happy ever after.
“How lovely. I’m Ava’s mother.”
“Yes, Ava has told me lots about you.” I smile wickedly at my girl as she practically chases me around the small table. “I’ll look forward to meeting you.” I raise my brows, and Ava recoils. It doesn’t sit well, and the reason stings like a bitch. My unknown age. She’s worried her parents won’t approve.
“You too,” she says, sounding hesitant. “Is she there?”
“Yes,” I murmur, my mood dipping. “I’ll put her on. It was lovely to talk to you.”
I pass Ava her mobile and throw her a warning look when she snatches it. So unnecessary. I was only trying to break the fucking ice. Isn’t that the right thing to do? Introduce oneself to your girlfriend’s mother? Not that I’ve ever had to do that before.
“Mum?” She turns away from me, and I pout, watching as she hunches over, like making herself small will lessen the chances of me hearing.
“He’s just a friend, Mum,” she says. It’s my jaw’s turn to scrape the ground. I’m raging, could quite easily claim that phone back and put Ava’s mother right, but, instead, I plunge an imaginary knife through my heart. Ava rolls her eyes, then I see her visibly solidify, swinging away from me. What was that?
“Mum, can I call you back?” she asks, and my suspicions increase. “I’m in Camden; it’s loud.” She’s being shifty. “Okay, I’ll call you later.” She hangs up and takes a few moments before facing me.
Her face is tight with anger. “Why did you do that?”
Keep your cool, Jesse. It’s tough when I’m constantly trying to advance our relationship and she’s constantly putting the brakes on it. “He’s just a friend?” I say, not prepared to let that slide. “Do you often let friends fuck your brains out?”
I expect a slap, not that I deserve one, it’s just that . . . well. Ava. But as I’m bracing myself, she seems to fold, and defeat looks utterly shit on her. “Is it your mission objective to make my life as difficult as possible?”
“No,” I breathe. That hurt. “I’m sorry.” It actually hurt.
“Forget about it.” She whirls around and starts walking away, and I trudge after her, giving myself a thorough telling off. My age bothers her. Her parents’ opinion bothers her.
Obstacles. Constant fucking obstacles.
I shouldn’t be making this harder for her because in the process I’ll be making it harder for me. Fuck everything.
I catch up and throw my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side, and she comes with ease, my stride dropping to her slow meander. Her head sits perfectly on my chest. Her arms fit perfectly around my back. Her hand rests perfectly on my stomach. She’s mad with me but finding comfort in me. I drop my mouth to the back of her head and hold it there as we walk, and she answers by slipping her hand beneath my T-shirt, stroking over my stomach. Her tracing stops over my scar.
And I squeeze her into me that little bit harder.
* * *
I never knew wandering aimlessly could be so pleasurable. She moves so in sync with me, her steps following mine, as I weave our joined bodies through the crowds of Camden market. Every so often, she stops at a stall and pokes around, but never, not once, does she break her hold of me. For every second we’re stuck together, I feel myself fusing to her even more. My heart blending with hers. My mind traveling in circles. My skin permanently buzzing.
My fears intensifying.
I’m a man tiptoeing on the edge of paradise and destruction, and this woman in my arms will dictate which way I fall. I look down at her tucked into me, mentally begging her to find strength to see this through, and when she breaks away from me, I think she might have heard my silent pleas. She starts wriggling out of her cardigan, huffing and puffing. My amusement can’t be contained, my smile breaking. For the past few hours, I’ve been thinking she must be stifling. What took her so long?
She turns a full circle, her eyes down as she pulls her cardigan around her waist, and my smile plummets when her back comes into my view. Her naked back.
“Ava,” I blurt, “your dress is missing a huge chunk.” What the heck is she doing? My dick twitches behind my jeans at the gorgeous planes of smooth, delicious skin staring back at me, then I’m checking to see if anyone else has copped a load of my half-naked girlfriend. I spot a man walking past, looking back over his shoulder. I snarl at him, returning my attention to Ava as she pivots toward me. She’s smiling. Why the fuck is she smiling?