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 take a moment, giving Ava one too, to catch my breath before easing myself up.
“Your hand,” she says, worried, and I raise it, showing her how much better it looks.
“It’s fine.” Not giving me nearly as much grief as it did. “Sarah had me keep ice on it for most of the afternoon.”
“Sarah?”
“She was just being a friend,” I assure her, but by the look on her face, which has now lost the post-climax flush and is twisted in disapproval, my endeavors are in vain. The last thing I need is Ava adding Sarah to our never-ending list of shit to deal with. Sarah isn’t going anywhere, and although I know she loves me, it’s not a problem I need to share with Ava. Sarah’s loved me forever. It’s just life now.
She squirms beneath me and frees herself, and I let her, watching her walk off without a word. For fuck’s sake. I hear the quiet splashes of her getting into the tub and drag myself up, following her in. “Has someone got a touch of the green-eyed monster?”
“No.” She snorts her disgust at the mere suggestion. It’s endearing.
I get in behind her, crowding her and easing her back onto my chest. “Ava, you are the only woman for me, and I am all yours.” I start soaking her with the sponge, watching the water trail and spread across her flesh, her skin glistening.
“You need to tell me more about yourself.”
My working hand falters. “What do you want to know?” I stare down at the back of her head, my mind racing with what she could possibly throw at me next.
“Is The Manor strictly business or have you mixed it with pleasure?”
“Dive straight in, why don’t you,” I whisper, looking up at the ceiling, maybe for some help from a higher power. But . . . he won’t help me. Why would he?
“Tell me.”
I draw breath. Denying any involvement in the happenings of The Manor would be idiotic. Divulging the extent of my immersion in the activities would be even more idiotic. “I’ve dabbled.” I’m so fucking glad she can’t see my face right now. I’m sure it’s displaying all of my sins, my lies, my pain.
“Are you still dabbling?”
I balk, horrified. Is she serious? “No,” I snap, insulted, every muscle wanting to tense, uncomfortable, and I strain to stop them, my hand moving the sponge across her torso with a little more vigor.
“When was the last time you dabbled?”
Oh Jesus, someone stop this nightmare. “Way before I met you.”
“How long before you met me?”
“Ava, does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t regular,” I spit out, my panic now doing the talking for me, my head scrambled, not giving me any clue how to handle this. I feel cornered.
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“Is anything I tell you going to change the way you feel about me?”
I feel her stiffen against me. God damn it, I’m making this worse. But I’m not prepared for this. “No,” she finally says, quiet and unsure. Suspicious.
“So can we drop it? It’s in my past with a whole heap of other stuff, and I would rather leave it there.” I’m unwittingly throwing more scraps. More for her to latch on to. “There is only you,” I affirm. “End of.” I drop my mouth into her hair, silently begging her to ease off. Change the subject fast. “When are we moving the rest of your stuff in?”
“I’m here,” she says dryly. “I’ve got to pick up the rest of my stuff from Matt.”
Her ex, Matt? “No, you fucking won’t. I’ll send John.” Jesus Christ. Does he still have his eye on Ava? “I told you, you won’t see him again.” She doesn’t argue, instead falling quiet, and for the first time since we got in the bath to relax, I actually relax, now all interrogations and talk of exes is done.
“Tell me where you went when you disappeared on me.”
Oh my God. Is this punishment for raiding her meeting? “No.” I rest my head back and return to silently praying for some mercy as she turns over, facing me.
“The last time you held back on me,” she says quietly. “I left you.”
The pain is instant. The reminder. The haze of nothingness. Is she threatening me? Her presence in exchange for information? I swallow, fighting to keep my expression soft. “I locked myself in my office.”
“For four days?” she asks.
I look away. “Yes, for four days, Ava.”
“Look at me.” Her voice is loaded with grit, almost angry, and my eyes turn to hers, shocked.
“Excuse me?”
“What were you doing in your office?”
“Drinking.” For fuck’s sake. “That’s what I was doing. I was trying to drown out thoughts and images of you with vodka. Are you happy now?” I can’t bear this anymore, anxiety rising, and with a lack of Ava to ease it, I can think of only one other way. Drink. Fuck. I need to run. Get some air. Breathe. I feel suffocated, and that’s not the fucking point of being with this woman.