I stop with my struggle to free myself. ‘What?’
‘I dreamt I woke up, and you were gone.’
‘Gone where?’
‘I don’t fucking know,’ He releases his grip of me and his hands plunge straight into his hair. ‘I couldn’t find you.’
‘You dreamt I left you?’
His frown line is fierce. ‘I don’t know where you went. Just gone.’
‘Oh.’ I don’t know what else to say. He won’t look at me. He got himself in that state over me leaving him?
‘It wasn’t a nice dream, that’s all.’ He’s embarrassed, and I suddenly feel a little guilty. This is a serious hang up.
‘I’m not leaving you,’ I try to reassure him, ‘but we’ve got to talk. I have to torture information out of you, Jesse. It’s exhausting.’
‘I’m sorry.’
I reach forward and pull him back between my thighs. This is one of those moments – the ones where I’m the strong one. They are becoming more frequent as I’m working out this man. ‘Have you had bad dreams before?’
‘No.’ He accepts my hold and squeezes me tight to him.
‘Because you drank.’
‘No, Ava. I’m not an alcoholic.’
‘I didn’t say you were.’ I hold him tightly, feeling a little sad for him, but quietly pleased that he’s opened up. He is so strong and self-assured, but these little cracks are becoming more obvious. Am I making these cracks?
‘Can I make you a well-balanced breakfast now?’ He pulls out from my clinch.
‘Yes, please.’
‘What do you want?’
I shrug. ‘Toast.’
‘Toast?’ he asks questioningly. I nod. It’s six thirty in the morning. My stomach hasn’t woken up yet. ‘It’s hardly well-balanced.’ he mutters.
‘It’s too early to eat.’
‘No, it’s not. You’ll eat. You’re too thin.’ He releases me and goes to put some bread in the toaster.
I lower myself down from the island and take a seat on a stool to admire him as he faffs around the kitchen. I’m touched. He openly admits he’s crap at cooking so the fact he has offered to make me breakfast is quite pleasing. Resting my elbows on the worktop, I sit my chin in my palms and study him. He had a bad dream. Or nightmare. Either or, though, he told me, and that must have been hard. He’s a big, strapping man who was reduced to a cowering mess by a bad dream. I hope they are not frequent because it was horrible seeing him like that – scared and vulnerable. I didn’t like it
I sigh to myself. He looks as handsome as ever this morning. He’s not shaved, and I love the one day stubble on him. He’s hasn’t got a full suit on, just charcoal grey trousers and a black shirt. I might change my mind about lunch so he is forced to give me a reminder fuck.
I watch him gather the butter, knives and plates and place everything in front of me on the island. Then he goes back to the fridge, returning to sit next to me with a jar of peanut butter. I look at him in disbelief as he unscrews the lid and dunks his finger in.
He wraps his lips around his coated finger and looks at me with it half hanging out of his luscious mouth. ‘What?’ he mumbles.
‘You’re giving me a hard time about a well-balanced breakfast?’ I flick my gaze to the jar in his hand.
He swallows. ‘Nuts are very healthy. And anyway, you’re more important than me.’
I shake my head and start spreading butter on my toast as he watches me. ‘You’re important to me.’ I grumble to my toast. I look up at him as I wrap my teeth around the corner.
He smiles. ‘I’m glad. So, what’s in your diary today?’ he asks nonchalantly as he dips his finger again.
I choke on my toast and he frowns. Is he serious? I’m not telling him!
‘What’s so shocking about wanting to know what you’re going to be doing?’ he pouts.
I swallow my toast. ‘Oh, nothing,’ I chew a bit more, ‘if I thought you were genuinely interested and not planning a trampling mission.’ My voice is dripping with sarcasm.
‘I am genuinely interested.’ He looks hurt.
I’m not falling for it. ‘I’ll meet you at Baroque at one. I’ve still got to ring Kate and advise her that you’re gatecrashing our ladies’ lunch.’
‘She won’t mind. She loves me.’ he says confidently.
‘That is because you bought her Margo Junior.’ I remind him.
‘No, it is because she told me so.’ He’s so smug.
‘When?’
‘When we were out,’ He pushes my hair from my face. ‘The night I showed you how to dance. The night you got completely k-lined.’
‘K-lined?’ I ask around my toast.
‘Drunk.’ he mouths.
I scoff. ‘Kate must have been drunk too.’ She wasn’t as drunk as me, but that would be difficult. She was well on her way, though – not that it would matter. Kate wouldn’t tell anyone she liked them if she didn’t, and she certainly wouldn’t say she loves them, even if it is a term of endearment.
‘Not just then.’ He scoops his finger in the jar and thrusts it under my nose. I screw my face up and he smirks before licking it off himself.
‘When then?’ I ask casually, taking another bite of my toast. He’s doing this on purpose.
‘At The Manor.’ He tosses it in the air like it’s the most natural thing in the world for Kate to be at The Manor.
My jaw hits the marble counter. I remember Kate went to The Manor on Saturday night and I remember Jesse being called away late Saturday night. It must have been then. She didn’t go into details when I asked her. Fun is what she had said and she didn’t elaborate further. I definitely wasn’t going to push it after her contemptuous reaction to my questioning.
‘What was she doing at The Manor?’ I try to sound casual, but by the look on his face, I’ve failed.
He smiles. ‘That is none of our business.’ He jumps up from the stool and chucks his empty jar in the bin. ‘I’ve got to scram.’
‘Scram?’
‘Like, skedaddle…go…leave.’ He winks at me, and I pool on the stool in a soppy mess. He’s in a good mood this morning, all roguish and playful. I love him. Easygoing Jesse is becoming a more regular visitor these days.
‘I’ve decided that maybe lunch isn’t such a good idea. I don’t want Kate to think we’re joined at the hip.’ I turn away from him and carry on eating my toast in the most blasé manner I can muster. It’s hard when my man is bristling and snarling behind me.
He grabs me, and I squeal as he flips my around and walks me to the wall, pinning me under his delicious body with my toast still in my hand. His eyes are uncertain and I almost feel guilty… almost.
I know what’s coming.
I fight to conceal the grin that’s tickling the corners of my mouth as he bends, leans into me and rolls his hips up so I get a full on stroke at my core. I moan in pure, sneaky satisfaction.
‘You didn’t mean that.’ he says, sliding his hand over my stomach, down towards the apex of my thighs.
‘I did.’ I challenge, and then jerk as his thumb slips over my sensitive flesh. Oh God, I will never get enough of him.
‘Someone is going to be quick.’ he muses, as he continues to ride me with his hand. I sigh, savouring his talented touch working me. ‘Don’t play games with me, Ava.’ He withdraws his hand and steps back from me.
WHAT!
I want to yank him back and shove his hand down below. What the hell is he playing at? I look at him, all what-the-hell, and he smirks at me.
‘I’m already late because I wanted to make sure you ate. If I knew you were going to play games with me, I would have fucked you first and feed you after.’ He steps in and makes a point of grinding his ever loving hips against me, moaning in my ear. ‘One o’clock.’ he whispers, before he bites into my suspended toast and pulls away. ‘I love you, lady.’ He looks at me with utter smugness.
‘You don’t.’ I snap. ‘If you did, you wouldn’t abandon me halfway to orgasm.’
‘Hey!’ he yells. He looks pissed. ‘Don’t ever question whether I love you. It’ll make me mad.’