Chapter 29
As I reach out to type in the gate code while Ava sits in the passenger seat of my Mustang, I have to acknowledge how big a deal inviting her here is.
I’ve lived in this house for three years now. My friends and plenty of other people cycled through the luxury condo I lived in before this. I had guests over almost every day, and parties almost nonstop. I worked, sure, but then my coworkers would come over for drinks after hours. And that’s when they found out that I didn’t have to work if I didn’t want to. Because I was flush with cash.
Everyone who came to where I lived could tell just how much money I had.
And for some reason, the fact that I had what they considered an impressive number in my bank account, that suddenly changed who I was to them. I became less of a person in their mind. More like a caricature of life. The things that they saw in my home suddenly became up for grabs.
Who cares if you walk away with something? Sammy can buy fifty more of whatever you take.
I got used to people taking things from me. Convinced myself that that meant they liked me.
But I couldn’t tell myself that lie anymore when they took things that mattered.
Specifically, my grandfather’s harmonica.
I had it on my bedside table.
Who just takes a harmonica?
When I realized it was missing, I didn’t even know who had done it. There’d been upwards of fifty people in my home the night before. I asked around, but no one admitted to the theft.
That night I went home alone. Sat in my penthouse alone. And realized that I felt violated.
But not just that. I felt…
Empty.
Meaningless.
Useless.
The next day, I called my realtor and put my penthouse on the market. I had them send me listings for plots of land far from where I’d been living. Places where I could start from scratch.
I spent some time by myself, trying to figure out what I liked about me. What I liked in general. And it was mortifying to realize how much of myself I had crafted based off of what others thought of me.
I went to therapy. I focused on spending time with people who knew all facets of me—shallow as I am—and still wanted to be in my life. People who weren’t afraid to insult me to my face.
Most people don’t like to be insulted. I don’t like to be insulted either if the comment is said with hurtful intentions. But when someone who cares about me points out a flaw with a playful smile and a snarky laugh, it’s one of my favorite things in the world.
I don’t think Cat Byrne realized how highly I held her as a friend all the while she hated me.
With good reason.
We’ve mended fences, but she is still the best person to go to when my ego needs a caring punch to the gut.
And now I have this house that is full of things that I like. It is crafted for me, and I keep it for myself. No one takes anything I don’t freely offer.
But now Ava is here, and I am sweating as I wonder if she’ll like anything that is from the truest version of me.
“Goddess, I’m surprised you were willing to stay over at my tiny apartment. Your house is huge.” Ava gazes out the window as I pull up the front drive and into my garage. Kraken sets her little paws on the door, also staring out as if fascinated with my house.
The kitten is probably just excited for her first road trip since the day she went to the club with me.
“I like your place,” I say. Every inch of it feels like her, which makes every inch of it perfect.
Ava snorts and climbs out of the car with Kraken cradled in her arms. The cat tries to escape, but Ava keeps a firm hold. “Can we head inside so I can set her down?”
“Of course.” I lead the way through a door that takes us from the attached garage to a large entryway. Ava follows, then lets Kraken leap from her arms onto the wooden floor. The kitten scampers off, and I hope she doesn’t get lost in the place. We could spend a day looking for her in here and still not run out of hiding spots.
“Would you like a tour?” I offer.
Ava nods. I take her hand, lacing our fingers together, and walk us through my home. We cover living areas, my office, home gym, and the kitchen before she says anything.
“It’s weird.”
I freeze in the act of opening the fridge to grab her a drink. “My house?”
Gods, please don’t let her hate it.
I want Ava to come back. To want to spend time here.
“Yeah. This place is huge.” She tilts her head to glance at the tall ceilings. “But it’s also…warm. In a good way.” The witch steps past me to grab a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge. She lets go of my hand to screw the top off.
Since I’m needy, I step in close and wrap my arm around her waist. I watch her throat work as she swallows, wanting her to say more nice words.
“Did you design it?” she asks after screwing the cap back on. “Your house?”
I nod.
She smirks. “Maybe that’s it. The house is like you.”
“Like me how?” I rasp.
“You know…showy at first. Sitting on top of its hill saying, ‘Look at me, I’m a fancy ass house.’” Ava wiggles her shoulders, which brushes one against my chest, since I’m standing so close. “And I see it and think, ‘Well maybe it’s gorgeous on the outside, but I bet it’s all cold, sharp angles on the inside. Not somewhere I’d want to live.’” The witch smiles up at me. “But then you come inside, and it is big and showy and kind of fancy. But it’s also warm and soft and somewhere I might want to stay a while.” She taps my chest. “You’re showy, charming, and you should be an asshole. But I stepped through your front door, and I think I’d like to stay a while.”
Words rise and fall in my chest, none of them reaching my tongue.
I love you, I think very hard at her as my witch gives me a sassy smirk.
“So does this place have a pool?”
After a bracing breath, I step back enough to twine my fingers with hers again. I raise Ava’s hand to my mouth where I can press and hold my lips against her knuckles as I lead her to the backyard.
Words still aren’t available to me right now. Only kisses.
“I should’ve known.” She laughs when we step through the sliding glass door. “You’re a Squid, through and through.”
The pool is rather large, with multiple levels and four waterfalls.
“It’s bigger than Damien’s. Your whole place is!” Instead of moving forward to explore the swimming area, Ava leans into my chest and relaxes as I twine my arms around her waist. “Why aren’t you the one having Elemental parties?”
I brush my mouth against her bare shoulder and re-learn how to speak.
“I used to have parties. At my old place.” I drag my lips along the curve of her neck. “People stole stuff.” I kiss the corner of her jaw. “It wasn’t a big deal at first. But my grandpa left me his harmonica when he died. After that was taken, I decided I wanted my own space.”
Ava’s body stiffens before she turns to face me. Her expression is thunderous, bordering on terrifying.
“People stole from you?” she growls.
Is she ready to defend me?
Gods, that’s hot.
But I also want this to be a happy tour, not a pity party.
“It’s in the past.” I press a quick peck to her frowning mouth, then aim us toward another entrance to the house across the stone patio.
The next room is my ace. The one I’m buzzing and fidgeting about. The room I expect Ava will see, then shove me up against the wall and give me the same treatment as she did in my asshole professor’s office.
Maybe she’ll beg me to make a mess again like when she was in the bath.
“Oh, hey. How about we go in here?” I say super casually.
Ava glances at me with a crinkle between her brows.
Okay, maybe that didn’t come out as super casual as I meant it to be. Maybe my voice went up a few too many octaves, and I waved my arm in a much-too-broad arc toward the doorway.
Whatever. She’ll forget my weird behavior in a moment. Soon she will be overcome with lust—and maybe love—and the world will be full of only rainbows and unicorns and orgasms.
“Sure,” she says, the word coming out in a slow draw.
Eagerly, I step forward, turn the handle on the glass door, then sweep the entrance open and usher her inside.
Straight into my library.
I’ve had a trusted set of workers in here for a month perfecting the place. Hardwood floors scattered with plush rugs compliment a turquoise water-patterned wallpaper and are illuminated by a sparkling chandelier with warm lighting. Cozy seating is available in every corner. Windows come equipped with three different kinds of shades depending on how much light you want to let in. A sprawling view of the Phoenix desert is visible through the glass.
And of course, shelves. Shelves and shelves and more shelves reaching to the ceilings, equipped with rolling ladders. One of them is even a secret passageway, but I’ll let Ava figure that one out on her own.
Or I’ll tell her in a fit of passion—the jury is still out.
“So…” I say after a full minute has passed with Ava standing in what must be rapturous silence. “What do you think?”
She turns to me. Instead of looking ecstatic, Ava appears confused.
“I thought you said you’ve been living here for three years,” she says, voice holding a question.
“Uh, yes. I have.” Where’s the erotic shoving and the kissing? I want to make out with my sassy witch in the library I designed for her.
“Well then, where are all your books?” She points at the walls, and I realize my misstep.
All the shelves are empty. And I haven’t told her why.
“Right. Sorry. That’s the best part.” Slipping up behind her, I rest my hands on Ava’s shoulders and slowly turn her so she can take in the full potential of the room. “I want you to give me a list, all your favorite books. All the ones you look forward to reading. Every new release that catches your eye. No limit. Don’t think about cost, just about what you want to read.” I murmur the words in her ear. A teasing temptation. “And I’ll have them all here, waiting for you.”
Now for the book-inspired sex-fest.
But Ava doesn’t maul me with love. She tilts her head to meet my eyes over her shoulder, expression still confused. “But it’s your house. Your library. You should fill it with books you read.”
I firm my jaw to keep away a grimace, disappointed this isn’t turning out how I expected. I know I can’t make Ava fall in love with me with expensive trinkets and jewels and designer clothes.
But I thought books was a sure thing.
Maybe you should stop trying to win affection by purchasing things, a voice that sounds a lot like my therapist’s speaks from the back of my head.
I know I’ve fallen back on a habit, one I swore I would move on from: buying affection.
But I get panicky whenever I think of Ava moving on from me, and I end up making desperate ill-advised decisions. And now I have to admit a fact that will knock off whatever attractive points I’ve managed to scrape together up to this moment.
“I don’t read,” I mutter, so low that I hope my lovely librarian doesn’t hear.
Success. Only not really, because she turns around and pokes my stomach. “Speak up.”
I sigh and sneakily tentacle my arms around my witch’s waist so maybe I can stop her from immediately fleeing from me in horror. “I don’t read,” I repeat, this time loud enough so she can hear.
“Oh.” Ava stares up into my face, and I search for signs of devastation or disappointment or disgust. But there’s only another confused brow wrinkle. “You’re not a fan of books? I thought you mentioned a few you liked.”
“I listened to those. Audiobooks. I can listen while I’m working out or cooking or driving. But I can’t sit down and concentrate on words for more than five minutes. So…I don’t read.”
And now it comes, the twisting of her lips and piercing glare. My librarian knows that I’m not worthy of her.
“Excuse me,” she snaps. “Listening to audiobooks is reading. I don’t ever want to hear that bullshit take again,” she growls and grips the back of my neck to drag my face down, our eyes locked. “If you listen to audiobooks, then you’re a reader.”
“But—” I stutter, and her nails dig into my skin in a way that maybe is supposed to be punishing but just makes me hard.
“You are comprehending a story in the way that works for you. If you were blind and listened to thousands of stories, would you say you’d never read a book before?”
“I…” I’d never thought of it like that. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Her expression softens along with her fingers before they comb up into my hair.
“So, Samuel Reyes. What are you?”
I swallow hard. “I’m a reader.”
Ava lets out a pleased note in the back of her throat and my whole body tightens with wanting.
“Readers are so hot.” She drags my mouth to hers, and I drown in the heady taste of her tongue tangling with mine. At some point we fall onto one of the cushy lounge seats I bought with the fantasy of Ava curling up with her favorite book in the chair.
I still want that to happen, but it’s always good when furniture is multi-functional. Like how this large seat is perfect for me to sink into my librarian with steady thrusts as her ankles rest on my shoulders.
And as I suspected it would, the library immediately becomes my favorite room in my house.