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)
“. . . Ish?”
“No. Fine.”
In body, maybe. In spirit? She’s channeling her anger in the wrong direction. I lower, getting closer to her, crowding her. My hands rest on the step on either side of her. She peeks up at me.
“I’m crazy mad, Ava.” I don’t sound it. But, God, I feel it.
“I wasn’t drunk.”
“I told you not to drink at all,” I counter. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go out.”
Nostrils flaring, she glares at me with angry eyes. “I’m curious as to why you think you can dictate what I do. I’m a grown woman. Do you expect me to live a life with you where my every move is controlled?”
Controlled? Her mind always defaults to that one, undesirable word. “You are mine. It’s my job to keep you safe.” And I’m not being allowed to do my job.
“You said you were close. Close to what?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” She practically laughs over the word. “You want a drink, don’t you? That’s what you need to deal with this fucking mess.”
She’s right, of course. But instead of admitting it, I tell her to mind her fucking language. “We would not be in this situation if you’d fucking listened to me,” I grate.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for not listening.” She stands abruptly, nearly knocking me back down the steps. And now she’s going to do what Ava does best. Walk away. Hide. “I’m sorry if you feel the need to drown in vodka because of me,” she hisses. I flinch, not only at the words but at the venom in them. “I’m obviously bad for your health. I’ll put you out of your misery.”
I stare at her naked back as she walks away, hurt mixing with the anger. She’d leave. She thinks I might have a drink, and she’d leave anyway? “Crazy mad, Ava,” I breathe, getting up and going after her. She looks back, sees me coming at her, and faces me, her eyes dropping down my chest as I approach. And as if she’s realized she’s lost her focus, she stands taller. Challenging.
This is going to blow up.
“Kiss me,” I say in desperation, hoping the flames of our passion win over the heat of our anger.
“No,” she yells, disgusted. So she’d rather argue? Tear each other apart?
“Three.” I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know why the fuck I’m giving her the countdown now. It’s so fucking inappropriate. Maybe because I desperately need something close to normal back, and the countdown is normal for us.
“Are you mad?”
“Crazy fucking mad, Ava,” I confirm. “Two.”
Her eyes go round, her head shaking.
“One.” Her mouth opens to protest, her body engages to run. “Zero.” I catch her before she gets two paces away, walking her to the bed and trapping her beneath my body. The moment my naked chest meets her lace-covered boobs, my heart calms. My world stabilizes. I can see the peace coming into her dark eyes as I stare at her, drawing soft lines around her stomach. But there’s still that tenacity lingering. “I’m putting your resistance down to the drugs. I’m giving you another three seconds to make the right decision. Three.” I put my mouth close to hers, begging her to embrace one of our strengths. Give herself to the chemistry. Her nipples are hardening. Her body heating up. All good signs.
But she fights it, her shimmering eyes narrowed.
“Two.”
She licks her lips, her body talking, and mine is listening.
I swallow, watching, feeling, hearing, smelling her desire. A second later, she rises and presses her mouth onto mine, and everything is right again, if only for a few moments. I’ll take it. Any scrap of calm, I’ll take it. Her hands clench at my shoulders, then move to my nape, feeling.
“Please don’t have a drink,” she whispers.
I hate myself for inadvertently revealing my weakness. “I’m not going to have a drink, Ava.” Not now. Half hour ago, though? I release her lips and sit up, helping her onto my lap. I spend a few needed moments feeling her silky, dark hair, looking into her expressive brown eyes, stroking her smooth olive skin that, right now, is too pale. “Last night in the hospital when you wouldn’t come round,” I say, my throat thick. “I felt my heart getting slower by the minute. You will never know how much I love you. If you were ever taken away from me, I wouldn’t survive it, Ava.” It’s the truth. I’m barely surviving now, when we’re at odds and there are so many question marks hanging over us. “I want to rip my own head off for giving you room to defy me.”
“I’m okay,” she says, her voice small.
“But what if you weren’t?” I ask. “What if I didn’t come when I did?” Jesus Christ, God knows what could have happened. “I just came to the bar to check you were okay, and then I was going to leave. Can you imagine how it felt to see you collapse like that?” It’s all I can see. Her body failing her. Me catching her.