Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“Where have you been all my life, Ava?” I whisper, swiveling deliberately and firmly.
She inhales sharply, her eyes never leaving mine, and it’s the sexiest thing imaginable. I lick my lips, swallow the lump in my throat, feeling a wash of emotion take hold. “Promise me something,” I demand, executing another flawless grind, making her moan. She’s struggling to keep her eyes open, but I see the question there. “You’ll stay with me,” I murmur, full of hope.
She stares at me, caught between the untold pleasure we’re sharing, and bewilderment I just can’t stand. And then she nods, and I groan as I pull her down and circle into her.
“I need to hear the words, Ava.” I increase the pace and the friction, and she becomes frantic, her arms shaking, ready to buckle.
“Oh God, I will.”
Fuck, yes. “You’re going to come.”
“Yes!”
“Jesus, I love looking at you when you’re like this.” I strain the words, my eyes on her sweating face. “Hold it, baby,” I order, searching for my release. “Not yet.” I move my hold, seeing she’s going to break, and haul her into me, our skin colliding, sparks flying, my hips bucking. She cries out, my dick sinking deeper, her nails plunging into my back. Fuck.
I pump, grind, roll, our eyes glued. “You’re painfully beautiful and all mine. Kiss me.”
There’s no objection. When we’re together, connected, making each other feel like this, there is no other way for us. She encases my face with her palms, scans my eyes, swallows as I watch her, and drops her mouth to mine on a moan.
“Jesse,” she mumbles. “I’m going—”
“Control it, baby.”
“I can’t.” She bites my lip, and I yell, the pain hitting me hard in my cock.
And there it is. My release. I’m on my knees fast, rearing back and thundering into her, holding her against my chest as I explode on a yell that instantly makes my throat sore. “Jesus, Ava,” I garble mindlessly, my eyes clenching shut. “What am I going to do with you?”
I’m useless, quaking, my body completely out of control. Weak. Helpless.
Alive.
In hell but in heaven.
She hugs me fiercely, as if she senses I need help to stop my violent shakes. I do. “You’re shaking.”
“You make me so happy,” I whisper, my voice ragged, my heart hurting.
“I thought I made you crazy.”
I smile sadly and face her. “You make me crazy happy.” I push away the hair sticking to her perfectly wet face, kissing the tip of her perfect nose. “You also make me crazy mad.” My eyebrows lift without instruction.
“I prefer you when you’re crazy happy,” she tells me. “You’re scary when you’re crazy mad.”
Yes, I know. I scare myself, but . . . “Then stop doing things to make me crazy mad.”
She has the nerve to appear outraged. Don’t tell me she wanted that dress today. She didn’t. Don’t tell me she enjoyed downing that whole glass of wine the night I wrestled her into a jumper. She didn’t. I’m all for her holding on to her free will, but not at the expense of my sanity. She’ll learn. But, more importantly, will I learn to deal with my newfound intense reactions? Or better still, control them? I can try. Honestly, though, I don’t have much faith in myself. Ava O’Shea brings out the best in me while bringing out the worst. Strangely, the worst is a side I never knew I had, and I’m fucked if I know how to handle it. A little like she doesn’t know how to handle it. We’re in this together. Navigating these foreign waters together.
“I would never hurt you intentionally, Ava,” I say without much thought. I’m being provoked by the unknown. The unknown is how she’ll deal with the truth.
“I know.” She sighs, and it holds too much uncertainty for my liking, but I can’t ask for much more. I turn and fall to my back, bringing Ava with me, and we settle, me staring at the ceiling as I weave my fingers through her hair, Ava tracing patterns across my stomach, slowing when she reaches my scar. It tingles under her fingertip.
“Were you in the army?” she asks quietly.
My hands still for a beat. I could say yes, end the mystery for her, but as my lie tickles my lips, giving me an out on this particular problem, I find other words materializing. “No. Leave it, Ava.”
“Why did you disappear on me?”
“I told you,” I say, swallowing, becoming hot for other reasons. “I was a mess”—that’s the truth—“and you asked for space.” That’s a cop-out.
“Why?”
I close my eyes, praying for the end of this interrogation. I’m not prepared. Not ready. “You spark feelings in me.”
“What sort of feelings?”
“All sorts, Ava.” So many, I’m struggling to find the words to explain, but I’m trying. I'm trying so fucking hard.