He grins that roguish grin. ‘You think I’m a God?’
I huff, turning back to the mirror. His head is expanding at a rate so fast, I might be forced to jump out the bathroom window before I’m squashed against a wall.
He curves his arm around my waist and pulls me against his front. Leaning down and resting his chin on my shoulder, he studies me in the reflection of the mirror. Pushing his erection between my thighs, he circles his hips, sending my hands flying down to catch the side of the vanity unit.
‘I don’t mind being your God.’ he whispers on a husk.
‘Why is my stuff here?’ I ask his reflection, willing my body to behave and not get swallowed up by all his lovely Godliness.
‘I collected it from Kate’s earlier. I thought you could stay here for a few days.’
‘Do I get a say?’
He circles those damn hips again, milking a small cry from me. ‘Do you ever?’
I shake my head at him in the mirror. One corner of his mouth rises on a mischievous smile as he circles again. I’m not going to react to his damn hip swivels because I know he’s going to leave me hanging again. And what’s Kate playing at, letting all these men rummage through my belongings? There’s more than two days’ worth of clothes hanging in that wardrobe. What’s his game?
‘Get yourself ready, lady.’ He kisses my neck and smacks my arse. ‘I’m taking you out. Where would you like to go?’
I look at him stunned. ‘I get to choose?’
He shrugs. ‘I have to let you have your way some of the time.’ His face is dead pan. He’s completely serious.
I should grab his offer of power with both hands while he’s being so reasonable, but I’m suspicious. After his reaction last night, his massacre of the taboo dress and the silent treatment, I‘m befuddled as to why he’s woken up all balanced and stable.
‘So, what would you like to do?’ he asks.
‘Let’s go to Camden.’ I suggest, bracing myself for his refusal. Men hate all that hustle and bustle and roaming around browsing at stuff.
‘Okay.’ He turns to get in the shower, leaving me at the sink wondering where my challenging control freak has gone. Now, I’m most definitely suspicious.
I land at the bottom of the stairs to hear Jesse talking on his phone. I walk into the kitchen and dribble a little. He looks glorious in some worn jeans and a navy polo shirt, collar turned up – Jesse style. He’s shaved and shoved some wax in his hair. He really is unreasonably handsome, as well as unreasonable everything else.
‘I’ll be in tomorrow, is everything okay?’ He turns from his stool, running an eye down my body. ‘Thanks, John. Call me if you need me.’ He places his phone down without looking away from me, folding his arms over his chest. ‘I like your dress.’ His voice is all low and husky.
I look down at my flowing, floral tea dress. It sits on my knee so the length probably meets with his approval. I’m surprised Kate packed it; it’s a bit summery, with its cut out back and lack of sleeves. I smile to myself. He hasn’t seen the back yet. And I’m not showing him either. He’ll make me change. I know it.
I pull on my thin knitted, cream cardigan, then position my suede bag across my body. ‘Ready?’ I ask.
He pushes himself to his feet, approaching me all moodily. I expect a deep kiss, but I don’t get one. Instead, he slips his Wayfarers on, takes my hand and pulls me towards the door. I get to spend the whole day with him and he’s not even going to kiss me?
‘You’re not going to touch me all day, are you?’
He looks down at our joined hands. ‘I’m touching you.’
‘You know what I mean. You’re punishing me.’
‘Why would I do that, Ava?’ He pulls me into the elevator. He knows damn well what my point is.
I look up at him. ‘I want you to touch me.’
‘I know you do.’ He punches in the code.
‘But you won’t?’
‘Give me what I want, and I will.’ He doesn’t look at me.
I don’t believe this. ‘An apology?’
‘I don’t know, Ava. Do you need to apologise?’ He still keeps his focus straight ahead. Even in the reflection of the doors, he still won’t meet my eyes.
‘I’m sorry.’ I practically spit. I can’t believe he’s doing this. And I can’t believe I’m this desperate for the contact.
‘Now, if you’re going to apologise, at least sound sorry.’
‘I’m sorry.’
His eyes meet mine in the mirror. ‘Are you?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry.’