My stomach does a little flip and a growl, reminding me that I should really get something to eat. I’ve only picked on a few biscuits today. It’s no wonder I feel exhausted.
I’m just about to convince myself to lift my tired arse from the stool when I hear the front door open, and a few moments later, Jesse walks into the kitchen looking as wiped out as I feel. He doesn’t say anything for the longest time. He just stands there and looks at me. I notice his hands shaking slightly and his brow looks damp. What should I do? My craving for a glass of wine diminishes instantly.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask.
He slowly walks over to me and stands me up. Reaching down, he clasps the hem of my dress and pulls it up to my waist and then grabs me under my bum and lifts me up to straddle his waist. He buries his face in my hair and walks us out of the kitchen. I can feel his heartbeat clattering against my chest as I hold onto him while he takes the stairs silently with me in his arms. I want to ask him what’s wrong. I’ve got lots of things to ask him, but he seems so despondent.
He walks us to the bed and crawls on with me beneath him, settling on top of me with his weight spread all over my body. It’s soothing. Locking my arms around him, I breathe into his neck and soak up his fresh water smell. I sigh contentedly. He might be a significant contributing factor to my stress and tiredness, but he makes it disappear just as quickly as he triggers it.
‘Tell me how old you are.’ I break the comfortable silence after I’ve held him until his hammering heart has returned to its usual, steady speed.
‘Thirty two.’ he says into my neck.
‘Tell me.’
‘Does it matter?’ he asks tiredly.
It doesn’t matter, but I want to know. He might like this game, but I don’t and it’s not going to make any difference to how I feel. I just think I should know. It is mandatory information, like his favourite colour, food or track – all of which I don’t know. I know so little about him.
‘No, but I would like it if you told me. I know none of your basic information.’
He nuzzles in my neck. ‘You know I love you.’
I sigh. That’s not basic information. I start to think about my introduction of a truth fuck into our relationship. Something has got to wheedle this small, insignificant piece of information out of him. I know my persistently asking him is having no satisfactory results.
‘How was your day?’ he asks, his voice muffled in my hair.
‘Stupidly busy but very constructive.’ I’m quite pleased with what I managed to get done, considering I thought my day would be a bombardment of calls and texts. ‘And you need to stop sending flowers to my office.’
His head lifts and I’m greeted with a disgusted look. ‘No. Have a bath with me.’
I roll my eyes at his stubbornness, but I could think of nothing better than having a bath with him at the moment. ‘I’d love to.’
He pulls himself up so I have to release his neck, and he drops his lips to mine. ‘You stay here, I’ll sort the bath.’ He jumps up and takes his jacket off as he goes to the bathroom.
I hear the water start running and I turn onto my side, feeling content and tranquil. He makes me feel like this and it’s these times when I know why I’m here. It’s how attentive, loving and tender he is. Perhaps living with him wouldn’t be so bad after all. But then I give myself a quick reminder that I’m currently on Central Jesse Cloud Nine. I won’t be thinking like this once I’ve not conformed to one of his demands. It will come, and it might even be about all of this moving in business.
He strolls back into the bedroom, and I lay back and admire his incredible gait. This man has a serious walk. Reaching up, he pulls his tie loose and throws it on the nearby chaise lounge, and then starts working his shirt buttons. He lets it hang loose and leans down to take his shoes and socks off. He’s bare foot with his trousers resting on those glorious, narrow hips, his shirt open, revealing the sharp lines of his chest. I could sink my teeth into him. He would probably enjoy that.
‘Enjoying the view?’
I look up and find green pools studying me. That look alone renders me a soaking wet mess. ‘Always.’ I answer. My voice is throaty. I didn’t mean it to be, it’s just what he does to me.
‘Always,’ he confirms. ‘Come here.’
I slide myself off the bed and slip my heels off.
‘Leave the dress.’ he demands softly.
I pad over to him, keeping hold of his hypnotising eyes, his arms hanging loosely at his side as he follows my progression. My heart is ricocheting off my rib cage, and I part my lips to let subtle streams of air escape, watching him as he slowly runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
‘Turn around.’
I obey and slowly pivot away from him. I feel his palms rest on my shoulders and the contact, even through my dress, zaps my nerve endings to life.
He leans down and rests his mouth near my ear. ‘I really like this dress.’ he whispers, and I clench my eyes closed to ride out the quiver that travels through my entire body. Both of his hands travel inwards until they arrive at my nape. He gathers my hair and places it over my shoulder, and then slowly draws the zip of my dress all the way down.
I flex my neck muscles in an attempt to control my overwhelming need to shake off the shudders that he’s instigating, but I give up when I feel his lips rest against my upper back, his tongue gliding up to the nape of my neck. Every fine hair stands on end, and I arch my back in response to his long, hot stroke.
There is a certain degree of torture to this. I want it to stop so I can gather my scattered senses before I say something I don’t mean like, Yes, I’ll move in with you.
‘I love your back.’ His lips vibrate against my skin, generating even more shudders. He moves his mouth back to my ear. ‘You have the softest skin.’
My head rolls back onto his shoulder and my face turns into his neck. He adjusts his head so his lips find mine as he hooks his hands into the front of my dress and pushes it down my body.
‘Lace?’ he asks.
I nod my answer, and his eyes sparkle with lust as he kisses me gently, like I’m glass. Our tongues slip and slide over each other with little effort from either of us, and I lean back onto him for support. I’m relishing in his gentleness and soft touch.
His hands find my breasts and he pinches my nipples through the lace of my bra, elongating them to firm peaks.
‘See what you do to me?’ He grinds his hips into my lower back, demonstrating exactly what I do to him, before dropping a chaste kiss on my lips. ‘I’ll die loving you, Ava.’
I know how he feels. I don’t see a future without him in it, and I’m excited and apprehensive about it all at once. It’s the unknown. He is still unknown. I need more than his body, his attention…his challenging ways.
He yanks the cups of my bra down, exposing my breasts, and skims the flats of his palms over the tips of my nipples. ‘You and me.’ he breathes in my ear, sliding one of his hands down my front and straight to the apex of my thighs.
My knees wobble when his hand cups me over my underwear, a deluge of liquid fire descending on me, my hips rolling forward against his hand to get more friction.
‘Do I turn you on, Ava?’
‘You know you do.’ I pant, and then moan as he thrusts his hips forward.
‘Wrap your arms around my neck.’ he says quietly. I reach back and link my hands behind his neck. ‘Are you wet for me?’
‘Yes.’
He hooks his thumbs in each side of my knickers. ‘Only for me.’ he whispers, dragging his tongue lightly down the edge of my ear.
‘Only for you.’ I agree quietly. I need nothing else except for him.
I feel a sharp tug and a tear, and I look to see my knickers hanging from his index finger in front of me. He lets them slide off the end of his finger and takes his other hand to my hip.
I jerk slightly, and he laughs in my ear. His fingers shift as his big hand wraps around my hip, spreading from my front to my back, his other hand hovering in front of me.
‘What shall I do with this, Ava?’ He flexes his good hand in front of me. ‘Show me.’
My hammering heart does nothing to regulate my short, sharp breaths. I want that hand on me. I remove my arm from around his neck and reach forward to take his hand, slowly guiding it down to the inside of my thigh and flattening his palm against my flesh with my hand over his. I feel him trembling faintly. I’m glad it’s not just me who is so affected by these encounters of ours. Or is he shaking because he needs a drink? I can’t even think about that. He doesn’t need alcohol if he’s got me. Well, he has me.
I start applying pressure on his hand and drawing up until his flat palm glides over my sex, the moisture ensuring it travels with ease. I gasp, my hips whipping back and colliding with his groin, provoking a moan to escape his lips and my head to fall back. I need him to kiss me.
I turn my face into him, and he takes my hint, brushing his lips across mine. My teeth clamp down lightly on his bottom lip and I pull back to let it slowly drag through my grip, his eyes locked on mine as I continue to work his hand up and down in a slow, steady caress.
‘Don’t come.’ His voice is rough.
I immediately withdraw his hand and bring it up to his mouth and he watches me as he runs his tongue straight down the centre and onto his fingers. Oh Lord, I’m desperate for him, but I can’t disobey him – not during these moments.