6. Ava
Chapter 6
Ava
He holds my shoulders as he quickly moves away as though he’s been scorched, and as he stares at me, there’s a single heartbeat that pulses between us. Our eyes lock and between the stare and that pulse, it’s all it takes and his lips are pliant against mine again and I’m matching each stroke of his tongue, each bite of his lip.
“I forgot to ask, how are you?” I ask the second time he pulls away.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he seizes my hips in his large hands, scooping me until I have no choice but to fold my legs around his waist and circle my arms around his neck. I hold on tightly as he strides toward the window and backs me against the cool glass. And that should have had me thinking of danger. But neither of us does and as the kiss gets more hungry, passionate, and dangerous. Finn attacks my mouth and it’s like we’re making up for the years of lost kisses, both breathless, wild and out of control.
I moan and clutch fistfuls of his shirt, wanting it gone between us. Our kiss is even more reckless, but beautiful, too. The need between us is powerful.
He lets out the softest sigh when I give up on tugging at his shirt and slip a hand under the hem, resting my fingers on the warm, hard ripple of muscles across his stomach. The sound of his affected breath shoots straight through me.
He stops once again and rests his forehead on mine. His eyes meet mine. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I admit.
“Would it be too quick to take you to dinner after work?”
I chew on my lip. Dinner with Finn would be lovely, catching up with him. But I like to get home before Emmy goes to bed.
It’s a one-off.
“Dinner would be good. Old times’ sake.”
Finn takes me to a fancy French restaurant after work and that surprises me. He wasn’t normally into being showy, but it’s been nearly four years since we’d previously dated.
Is this a date? Has he changed?
No, this is a catch up, just to find out how our lives have moved. The type of people we are now.
I called my sister Stella to explain my date and that I would try to get home on time. But her insisting I enjoy myself and Emmy is already tired, and she’s going to bathe her and put her into bed early anyway makes me feel so much better.
As we walk behind the server to our table, I can’t help but notice how handsome and confident Finn looks in a suit. Not that it’s the first time, but his fitted three-piece dark gray suit is befitting for a lawyer.
He takes off his tie and rolls it, placing it in his pocket and undoing two buttons at the top of his shirt. My eyes pop, seeing his throat as if somehow it’s something erotic, and I mentally give myself a telling off.
The conversation is light, and the food is amazing. He tells me what his family is up to and I do the same—to an extent.
We both start with snails baked in little pots with garlic butter, and topped with puff pastry lids. Finn orders an eye fillet steak with a rich creamy sauce where I order the seafood bouillabaisse. It sounds fancy but is a fisherman’s soup. Though the seafood is succulent, as are the smells of tomato, fennel, and saffron. Tiny crunchy croutons finish my dish.
“Have you worked for your father since graduating?” I ask as Finn dabs the sides of his mouth, dropping the napkin.
“No, I traveled the world for a year, did some charity work in Asia, then worked in the US.”
“Oh,” I whisper.
“You?”
“I moved to Manchester, got a training contract with a small family law firm while I did my LPC. All with goals to be self-employed by thirty.”
“And now you’re in mergers and acquisitions.” He leaves the unending question hanging.
“Yeah, I changed my mind, thought jumping on the corporate ladder was the secure route.”
“Secure.”
“Mmm. So you traveled the world, broke some hearts I expect,” I say, sipping on my wine, wondering why I need to know.
“No broken hearts. I spent most of my time with one girl,” he says, and my heart sinks like a pebble in the sand. I try to look indifferent and unaffected, but a little yip leaves my throat. Totally unexpected. “We spent six months traveling the same journey.”
I swallow silently as I glance at my watch, six thirty, open my purse and take out my credit card. “I need to get going, before the Tube service slows at seven. Thanks for the catch up.”
The Tube continues running on a regular service, but there’s no way I want to hear of Finn’s romantic jaunts with other women.
“I asked you to join me. I’ll get the bill,” he says, tilting his head to one side when I go to protest. “And then I’ll drive you home.”
The evening was going very well until that point.
Finn still drives a Range Rover, but a newer version than the last one he drove. This one he’s probably bought himself, not a hand-me-down from his father. I inhale the leather as I take a seat. Inside it’s black and new, and the dashboard lights up with too many gadgets.
By the time we get to my street, my heartbeat is pounding. The buzz from the wine having disappeared on the journey.
“Just stop anywhere around here.” I make a quick glance at my bay window. I live in the street of similar redbrick townhouses, and I’m happy that Emmy isn't looking out.
Finn stops the car a few houses down and my shoulders relax. The tension ebbing out. “I thought you would have chosen a city pad for a few years.”
“I prefer to keep my work and home life separate, then I won’t get sick of it. Thank you for dinner,” I say quickly. “You should have let me split it.”
“Which is your house?” he says. My eyes flick to his, panic blooms.
“Just a couple of houses back,” I say, using my thumb to point behind, but at no house in particular.
“Not inviting me in?”
I smile, rubbing my hand over his, which is on top of the gear stick. “Not tonight.”
He leans closer to me, his eyes locked onto mine. He lifts his hands, stroking his middle finger and thumb in my hair before he pulls me closer, and his lips crush mine.
“Then come back to mine, just a few more hours,” he says when he pulls away.
“It’s not a good idea,” I say.
“Did you give the old guy another chance?”
“Finn, he isn’t that old.”
“You never answered the question.”
“No,” I whisper, not wanting to get into a conversation about Jameson.
“Then you are a free agent and can do what you want,” he says. “A glass of wine and a long chat and I’ll drop you home or get you a taxi.”
I glance back at the house.
Emmy is tired. I’m going to bathe her and get her to sleep early.
“Nice bachelor pad,” I say, standing with a glass of wine as I take in the view of the River Thames from the vantage point from his living room at the floor to ceiling windows. On a recently qualified lawyer’s salary, there’s no way Finn could afford this apartment unless his father had gifted it or it was rented.
He slides behind me, a silent moment where we stand together and stare at the lowering sunlight as it casts a silvery line over the water.
His warm breath tickles my neck, making the small hairs stand on end. The closeness is too much. Goosebumps pop on my skin. I rub at my arms as Finn un-tucks the back of my blouse and slides a hand underneath, touching my skin before wrapping his large hands around my waist.
“I missed us,” he says as his mouth lowers and kisses my neck.
“Finn,” I whisper. Not that I want him to stop, but the sensual move makes me a little dizzy, maybe also from the fresh, woody smell coating him. I tilt my head to his face and raise my hand in his hair.
He takes the glass from my hand, placing it onto the coffee table behind him, spins me around and with no words, our mouths connect. My fingernails dig into his shoulders.
We look into each other’s eyes before he pulls me to his chest and wraps his powerful arms around me. My heartbeat pounds as he holds me close. There are no words for a moment, nothing but two people breathing, until he lets go, steps back, and turns and walks away.
“Sorry I'm being too fast, aren't I?”
Yes…. No… I say nothing, just stand staring at him.
He gives half a laugh as he shrugs off his jacket, and I watch him disappear through the doorway to another room. “I’m just putting on something casual.” The words are as though nothing just happened between us, as though we just walked through the door.
I stroll around his apartment, trying to relax and wonder why he suddenly about turned.
I try to take in the modern furnishings, a low-backed L-shaped leather lounge in an off-white color, an oak topped coffee table. A matching oak dining table with six leather chairs around it sits on the far side of the large open-plan room.
My home seems so much different, less contemporary, more lived in. It’s also not mine. I’m renting a fully furnished home, but Stella and I have added some personal touches.
I can’t stop thinking of what made him change in an instant and stroll to the door to his bedroom, about to say something, but I don’t.
Finn is faced away from me, his arms spread-eagled on the wall, and his head hung low, contemplating.
I bite my lip to stop myself from saying something. He’s already regretting it, wondering the hell he’s doing. And despite the ache in my heart, I grab my bag and stride toward the exit.
It’s time to let the past stay in the past.
Why did I agree to come here in the first place?
This was a mistake and I know where it’s going to lead. It’s best we at least try to stay on the good terms we’ve finally found ourselves in. I shouldn’t have agreed to be in his apartment.
“Where are you going?” His voice is low and demanding.
This is going to be awkward.
“You looked like you needed me to leave,” I say when I turn to face him. “Like you’re already regretting me being here.”
He strolls across the room, coming to where I stand. But I can’t look at him anymore, and stare past him, gazing out of the window.
“I regret nothing.”
I turn clumsily to face him, not sure what to expect. But we just look at each other for a moment. I should leave, but my feet remain rooted to the spot.
“Come with me,” he says, taking my hand.
“It’s too soon,” I say. “For both of us, after everything.”
With his free hand, he takes my cheek in his palm. “There’s no rush.” His expression is soft and full of need, and I get it. I want him too ... but somehow it seems so wrong after everything.
“Just stay with me, no sex,” he says, as his thumb slides over my bottom lip.
“I should go,” I whisper.
Agony crosses his face. “Because of him,” he says.
“No, because of you.”