20. Levi #2
She’s quiet throughout my entire speech, chewing on her lip. I hate that I can’t see what’s going through that head of hers, but I hate even more that she’s not already agreed. This fucking maddening obsession will only go away if I give it exactly what it wants and let myself get bored with it.
“Can’t accuse you of being romantic,” Ava grumbles finally, setting her spoon down.
“There is nothing romantic about what I want to do to you, baby girl.”
She chews on her lip, looking anywhere in the room but at me while I wait.
“And if I say no?”
I can tell by the look in her eyes she’s not going to. She wants this money as much as I want her to take it.
Now, if she’d get out of that pretty little head of hers.
“Then I take you home, and you can be free to do whatever it is you plan to do about your grandmother and the man following you.”
She chews on her lip, looking anywhere in the room but at me while I wait.
Then finally, she sits forward and grabs the contract.
“You don’t even have a pen.”
I bite back my smirk, pulling one from the inside pocket of my jacket and sliding it across the table to her.
“I have your word?” she asks, and for once, when she meets my gaze, it’s head-on. I can’t deny it hits like a thousand watts shooting up my spine. “You’ll take care of her?”
Fucking finally . . . She’s mine.
“Consider it done.”
Ava’s silent when I shove the car in park outside Cross Estate. The moment the engine is off, she’s out the door and storming toward the house. I can’t do anything but chuckle and follow her.
Little brat’s on a warpath.
She attempts to shut her bedroom door in my face, but my boot stops it, sending it rebounding back into the wall.
Ava’s eyes go wide as she spins at the edge of her bed, then they narrow on me when I step into the room after her.
“I want to be alone.”
“Too bad,” I grunt, closing the door behind me.
It’s a bad idea because there’s nothing stopping me from fucking her with the door closed.
Well . . . nothing but her, but I don’t think it would take much to get her ready and begging for me again.
“Let me see.”
She looks at my outstretched hand like it’s crawling with maggots.
“Why?”
I cock a brow and fix her with a look. She blushes deeply and begrudgingly lays her fingers in mine so I can tug her over to the bed. My cock pulses against my jeans. It’s ridiculous. A simple touch of her soft skin against mine, and it’s all I can think about.
Spreading her out underneath me to see what she’d feel like, nothing separating us, so I could use her entire body to draw those sweet little whimpers from her lips.
Fucking hell.
Ignoring the burn in my chest, I slowly unwrap the bandages covering the burns on her wrists. They look a lot better than they did this morning, but they still need to be covered.
“I can do it,” she argues when I grab the ointment and bandages I’d stashed in her nightstand last night.
I don’t even give her an answer. I just push her back on the bed. She lands on her ass, bouncing, and looks up at me, her mouth falling open.
I shrug, drag a chair from the corner, and sit in front of her, dragging her until she’s in between my legs. She blushes with my hands on her thighs, as if I haven’t already seen all of her.
She’s silent while I clean the burns, gritting her teeth to hide her grimace when I swipe an alcohol pad over the wounds.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” she says softly, watching me work.
I know I’m going to regret this. “You can.”
“Why did you lose your job?”
Well, fuck.
“Are you asking if I did something wrong?”
She looks over my shoulder, and it’s answer enough.
“Look at me, Ava.” Her gaze flicks to mine, and I study her face. “Sometimes, the people who claim to be good have the dirtiest hands of them all. I think you probably already know that, don’t you?”
She lets out a deep breath, and the silence in the room hums.
“So . . . you tell me. Do you think I did something bad?”
“If I did, do you think I would be here right now?”
Touché.
“I’m just confused as to why he’s after you. And why is he using me? I have nothing to do with this.”
“I told you, he won’t be a problem for you anymore.”
“You say that as if you know who it is.”
When I don’t respond, she pounces.
“You do. Who is it?”
“No one that you need to worry about,” I mutter gruffly. “Now, stop moving.”
She falls silent while I work, tossing the old bandages to the side and pulling out new. Is it overkill? Probably. I don’t care. I never intended for her to pull as hard as she did, and a part of me feels guilty for that, even if she enjoyed it.
“Why did you bandage my wrists?”
“Why are you so damned stubborn?” I retort.
“I’m not,” she argues, and I cock a brow at her.
“I don’t try to be.” She shrugs. It’s the most honest she’s ever been with me. “I think you bring it out in me.”
I chuckle, and she watches me slather her wrists in the same cream I used last night.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she says softly.
A tension settles in the air between us.
I’ve fucked her in the woods. I’ve tied her to the rafters in my cabin.
Fuck, I brought her home and cleaned her up last night after she fell asleep and bandaged her wrists.
Still, somehow, this is the most intimate we’ve ever been.
This silence between us feels almost comfortable.
I fucking hate it.
“I’m not going to.”
When she doesn’t speak, my gaze flicks up to hers to find her watching me, a curious expression in her eyes.
Last night when I brought her home, she was so soft, and warm, and fucking out of it. I won’t lie and say I didn’t think about keeping her at the cabin, but shit always has a way of finding clarity in the daylight.
Like the fact that the little brunette housekeeper I can’t stand means a little something more to me than I had originally planned, and it’s really starting to piss me off because I feel fucking powerless to stop it.
And maybe because I know someday, she’s going to wake up and regret ever meeting me. When she learns who I really am, and that I’m so much worse than she thought.
God fucking help me on that day.
“You had burns from the rope.”
When I got her into her bed and cleaned her up, she wouldn’t open her eyes. I was sure I’d pushed her too hard, and for a split second, I was this fucking close to losing my shit.
Then, she shot me a glare and grumbled something unintelligible, and the relief I felt was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I’d bandaged her wrists and covered her up, watching her sleep for a few minutes before I forced myself to leave.
“That’s what happens when you tie someone up to the rafters in your cabin with rope,” she says softly, watching me work on slathering ointment on the rope burn. It’ll be gone in a few days, but I’m not leaving her like this.
“Fine, baby girl. You win. Next time, I’ll use silk.”
“Next time,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, but I can see her cheeks flame, remembering it.
I wrap each wrist in a new, clean bandage, making sure it’s tight enough that she won’t rip it off in the middle of the night, before I cap the cream and slide it back into her nightstand. When I’m done, there’s a heavy silence in the air, like something between us has shifted.
“Next time you’ll be begging me to tie you up,” I smirk, my finger sliding up her thigh. She shivers, shifting, but she doesn’t pull away. “I didn’t realize how hard you were pulling when you were begging me to fuck you.”
“I didn’t beg ,” she argues.
“Why are you so afraid to admit you enjoyed it?” She doesn’t respond. “Why are you ashamed?”
“Because I shouldn’t have enjoyed it.”
“Why not?”
“Maybe because it makes me feel like a whore,” she snaps, and the ringing silence that follows is loud.
Abruptly, I lean over her, forcing her back into the mattress. She stares at me wide-eyed and confused, and so fucking sweet.
My fingers wrap around her throat, and now that I have her attention, I bring her gaze to mine.
“Let’s get one thing straight, sweetheart,” I murmur darkly, my lips hovering over hers.
Fuck, what is it about this girl that makes me lose my damned control?
“Nothing about what I will ever do to you makes you a whore. Liking to be tied up and pushed to the edge doesn’t make you a whore. Getting off on my spanking that perfect little ass doesn’t make you a whore. And liking sex definitely doesn’t make you a whore.”
She’s speechless, and her throat bobs under my hand with a rough swallow.
“So don’t ever let me hear you call yourself that again. Not unless I’m buried inside you, making you scream it for me before I’ll let you come. Understood?”
Her lashes flutter when I tighten my hold ever so slightly, and she finally nods.
“Let me hear you.”
“Yes,” she breathes. When she opens her eyes, they’re full of something different that she’s trying to fight. Something I don’t think either of us is ready to acknowledge.
“Good girl.”
I chuckle, pulling back enough to look down the length of her body. I’m so fucking hard.
“What is it about you that is so fucking addicting?”
My hands roam down her sides, over the soft skin of her ribcage, and then lower, to her hips, where I knead the flesh and tug her closer until she’s settled right between my legs.
Her eyes grow wide, her breathing shallow in the space between us. My cock is so fucking hard, but even I know she’s sore after last night.
Her lips hover inches from mine, and I swear I can feel her heart beating where I’m touching her. It’s fast. Like a hare, and I raise my fingertips to her throat, just to feel the steady pulse that proves my little ghost wants me more than she’d ever be willing to let on.
“Your pulse is racing, baby girl,” I breathe, my lips quirking up at the corners in a smirk.
Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, her soft green eyes wide.
Fucking hell, those eyes.
Those eyes could make me do shit that should terrify me.
I move closer, and for a long moment, we breathe each other’s air. She looks from my mouth, up to my eyes, and my cock rages in my jeans to feel her delicate fingers wrapping around my length.
Lowering my head, I take what I want and push my lips against hers. My tongue slips into her mouth, my hand wraps in her hair, and I just fucking feast on her like I should have done in the forest.
Like I should have done last night.
She even tastes like fucking citrus, and my mouth waters the moment her tongue dances across mine.
My fingers tighten, and I lean forward, crowding over her on the bed, and fisting the comforter beneath her.
I keep her pressed against me with my hand in her hair, and growl at the soft little whimper that slips free.
Her hands fist my shirt, and I can’t tell if she’s trying to pull me closer or shove me away. I fucking love it, and it only makes me want to fucking devour her.
I’ve never given a fuck about another person’s lips until Ava Ryan withheld hers from me, and now?
Fuck her. She’s not getting them back until I say so.
Slow . . . I remind myself. Savor it.
This isn’t just a kiss. It’s a goddamned claiming. Kissing her does nothing but prove to her I can have her however I want her until I’m bored with her.
Eventually, her hands slide up the back of my neck, her fingers tugging at the dark roots of my hair. A shiver slips through me that leaves me both mildly disturbed and fucking irritated that the little brat has so much control over me.
My hand leaves the bed, going to her lower back, and I grip her hip to keep her from wiggling closer to me when she lets out a soft moan.
Fucking hell.
When the heavy petting and desperate grinding get to be too much, and I’m too close to losing every ounce of self-control I have with her, I break the kiss, leaning my forehead against hers while we both breathe heavily.
I’ve got to get the fuck out of here before I spend the night trying to figure out just how many times I can get her to moan my name.
Abruptly, I stand from the bed, ignoring the way my chest tightens at the little shiver that slides through her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Levi?” she calls softly.
I pause, hand on the door handle, and look back at her.
She looks so fucking soft and warm, a part of me hates myself for all the ways I’m going to use her.
“I believe you,” she says finally, and I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
I stare at her for a minute, unsure what to say because no one fucking believes me.
No one ever believes me.
Why should it matter if she does?
“Goodnight, Ava.”