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)
“Hey,” I say as we approach the point at which Ava gave up last time, seeing her looking back, her expression blank. Not strained. Not accomplished. Just vacant. Something’s on her mind.
She looks up at me. “I’m fine.”
Really? Because she doesn’t look it, and that smile she just forced was lame. She starts to slow down, and the second an opening into the park appears, she diverts off the street and flops onto the grass on a loud huff. “I did better than last time,” she pants as I stand over her. What a woman. It only proves that she can conquer anything if she puts her mind to it. My running route is no easy feat, and yet this time she knowingly took it on. Like she’s knowingly taking me on. Or not so knowingly.
She is strength. Perfection. Determination. But, again, there’s definitely something on her mind this morning. “You did, baby.” I lower beside her and take a leg, rubbing some life back into it. Her moans are glorious. “I’m proud of you,” I say, swapping for her other leg, working firmly into her flesh. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be leaving her to seize up so she can’t move, therefore can’t leave Lusso. “Give it a few days and you’ll fly through it.”
She doesn’t contest that, busy enjoying my hands working her muscles until my fingertips are numb. I glance around, spotting a coffee house across the road. Perfect. Pulling her up, I flash her a note. “I came prepared.” With money and words. “Coffee?”
She looks over her shoulder and sighs, then proceeds to toss her arms over my shoulders. I chuckle and lift her, forcing her to release me. “Come on.” Holding her hand, I walk us across the road to the coffee house and lead her to the counter. “Do you want something to eat?”
“No,” she says, adamant, ripping her eyes away from the pastries.
She’s a case. I take her nape and pull her close, kissing her sweaty forehead, before giving the server our order. “Go and get a seat.” Returning my attention to the counter, I ponder how best to approach The Manor anniversary this Friday, glancing over my shoulder every now and then, each time finding Ava lost in thought on the couch in the window. She said she’d think about it. Something tells me that’s what’s on her mind this morning, and I’m not sure I like her pensiveness.
“That’s fourteen pounds twenty, sir.”
“Thanks.” I hand over a twenty and take the tray. “Keep the change.” As I make my way to Ava, my concern increases. She’s staring blankly out of the window, constantly squinting, sometimes wincing. She is. She’s thinking about The Manor. Drawing conclusions, making assumptions.
“Dreaming?” I ask, setting the tray down, snapping her out of her thoughts. Her smile is tight as I cautiously unload our drinks, pushing a muffin toward her. She stares down at her cup as she stirs, absentmindedly fingering the muffin. I lower to my chair, my appetite dying with each second I watch her building some courage to speak.
“I’m not coming to the party,” she eventually says, refusing to look at me. It’s probably best, as I know she wouldn’t appreciate my impatient glance at the ceiling. “I love you,” she goes on, “but I can’t do that.”
She’s wrong. It’s not a case of can’t, more won’t. How the hell do I solve this if she won’t meet me halfway? I know she’s expecting some dark, seedy joint. It’s kinky, filthy, yes, but it’s as tasteful as a sex club could be. Comfortable. Safe. The happenings of The Manor won’t feature in our relationship, but The Manor itself will. Is she going to refuse to ever step foot in the place again? Not only is that impossible if she’s going to fulfil the new designs, but it’s unrealistic if Ava and I are in a relationship.
I exhale, trying to wipe away my irritation, just managing to do that before she looks up at me nervously. “It’s not going to be how you think it will be, Ava.” Talk her through it. Be patient.
“How do you mean?” Her head tilts, curiosity rife on her pink face. This is good. Whatever she’s convinced herself The Manor is, she’s still inquisitive.
I ply my dry mouth with some coffee, ready to talk her through her worries, and, hopefully, settle them. “Has The Manor ever given you the impression of a seedy sex club?”
Her lips pout a little, and I smile on the inside. “No.”
“Ava, there won’t be people wandering around naked propositioning you,” I explain, grimacing when my teeth automatically clench. God help anyone who even tries. “You won’t be manhandled up the stairs to the communal room. There are rules.”
“Rules?” she asks. Her frown is endearing. I need to remember that Ava is way younger than the average member. My world would never have featured in her life before she met me, not that she’ll be a part of my world in that sense. I bet sex clubs have never even cost her a thought, let alone dating the owner of one.