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)
I carry her up the stairs, the feeling of her arms wrapped around me, holding me, accepting me, settling me. I can hear her silent questions. Millions of them. I haven’t the energy to dodge them right now, only energy to hold her and love her. Our bed comes into view, and not bothering to undress us, I crawl on with Ava beneath me, settling every inch of me over every inch of her.
And it’s perfect. Like today was worth enduring if only to get to this point. My reward. My reward for surviving the day.
“Tell me how old you are,” she whispers, and I close my eyes, nuzzling deeper.
“Thirty-two.” But I feel three hundred right now.
“Tell me,” she pushes, flicking her shoulder up, nudging me.
“Does it matter?”
“No,” she whispers, sounding disheartened. She knows she’s not winning this. “But I would like it if you told me.”
“All you need to know is that I love you.” It’s the most important thing. Right now, my age is a mystery, and everyone likes a good mystery. It keeps them busy. Distracted. “How was your day?”
After a relenting sigh, she clings to me tighter, as if delivering a silent message that she really doesn’t care how old I am. After Sarah’s brutal words earlier, I’m not so sure. There are millions of men out there younger than I am. The novelty of my mystery age will only wear off if she finds out how old I actually am. So maybe she should never find out. “Stupidly busy, but very constructive,” she says quietly. So that’s why she’s tired. Not because she’s exhausted from missing me so much, or because she’s been shirking demons all day, but because work has exhausted her. “And you need to stop sending flowers to my office,” she adds scornfully.
I find the will to pull free from my hiding place and throw a dirty look at her. “No.” Why would I do that? I want her to know that I think about her every second of the day. And, terribly, the flowers, the texts, the calls, the gifts, are my way of making sure too much time doesn’t pass without her thinking about me. “Have a bath with me.”
“I’d love to.”
No counter. No resistance. No cheek. Good. I haven’t the energy to fight her. Breaking away from her amazing warmth, I give her a little kiss. Only brief, only chaste, or we’ll never make it to the bath, and I’m craving more of this closeness. Except naked. And wet. “You stay here,” I order gently, and one corner of her mouth lifts. She likes this. Me looking after her, me taking the lead, she likes it. “I’ll sort the bath.” I get off the bed and shrug out of my jacket as I head for the bathroom, groaning at the size of the tub she had put in here. That’s going to delay our soak considerably. I look over my shoulder and smile, reaching up and taking the knot of my tie, tugging it as I reverse my steps, conjuring up my plan to fill the time. It doesn’t take long. Every second is quickly mapped out in my mind, and it is magnificent.
I find Ava sprawled on her back, still and relaxed, but the second she clocks me by the door, she visibly tenses and she’s far from still, her chest rising and falling quickly as she studies me. I drop my tie on the chaise and move on to my shirt, unfastening each button slowly, relishing the longing in her eyes as she watches. I lose my shoes and socks, and as I straighten, I smile on the inside. “Enjoying the view?”
She blinks, coming back into the room. “Always.”
“Always,” I whisper. “Come here.” I jerk my head a little, and she edges to the side of the bed, kicking off her shoes. “Leave the dress.” I’ll enjoy peeling it off but, honestly, I don’t know how I feel about her wearing such figure-hugging outfits to work. You can see every perfect curve of her body, not leaving much to the imagination.
When she makes it to me, her eyes are swimming with love, lust, and hunger. “Turn around,” I murmur, my skin burning, my heart thrashing. She takes her time, working us both up more, and the second I place my hands on her shoulders, she jolts. Yes. Contact. “I really like this dress.” I drag my palms to her neck and move her hair over her shoulder, revealing the zipper. In no rush at all, loving the signs of her struggle, I pull it down, her head tilting constantly. Her shoulders high. Her breathing loud. I just can’t help but make her struggle more, licking up her spine to her nape. “I love your back,” I mumble against her flesh, feeling her shoulders roll. I move in close to her ear. “You have the softest skin.” The warmest. The smoothest. She goes heavy against me, leaning back, seeking solace in my neck. I turn my head and catch her mouth, our tongues finding each other’s immediately, dancing slowly, as I remove her dress. “Lace?” I ask, pulling back. She nods, and I thank her with another kiss, gentle and slow, my hands moving to her boobs and massaging them over the delicate fabric, my dick pulsing, preparing. “See what you do to me?” I push into her lower back, throbbing against her. Her eyes sparkle madly, and my heart clatters wildly. “I’ll die loving you, Ava,” I whisper hoarsely, my thoughts falling out of my mouth, my mind lost to her, to this, to us. I roughly pull the cups of her bra out of my way and tickle her nipples with a light brush of my hands. Her lips part, her chest expands, her eyes beg me. “You and me.” My hand falls down her front to her knickers, her arse pushing into my groin before rolling forward into my touch.