13. Ava
Chapter 13
Ava
I wake with a start. We aren’t moving anymore. Everything’s quiet.
Jet’s gone.
I stretch, straightening in my seat. A logoed Atlantic Airways blanket slips from my chest and pools in my lap. I lift the soft fabric and a hint of Jet’s aftershave drifts toward me. My core thrums to life.
I shove the blanket off and onto the driver’s seat with a scoff.
We’re parked in front of the main offices of the Silver Estate. It’s a beautiful, period stone mansion that sits at the center of the sprawling country estate and gardens. I knew every inch of the grounds here like the back of my hand once. I haven’t been here for years. Not until the other week when I saw an event advertised.
I wasn’t sure how it would feel coming back here alone. But I did it, anyway. And I filled a few pages of my notepad with memories. Pages that were the reason I never slept last night, and then fell asleep in Jet’s car.
I crunch over the gravel in my heels, making my way to the front door to press the bell. It takes a few moments before a young woman answers.
“Hi.” She smiles. “Are you here with Mr. Grant?”
“I am. I’m Ava.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Jasmin.”
Realization dawns as I look over her face and long, dark hair. Jasmin Silver , one half of the brother-sister duo who inherited the estate from their grandparents.
“Is he inside?” I smooth the back of my hair down with one hand, conscious that it could be mussed up from my impromptu nap.
“He and Logan headed over to the warehouse.” She points to a large building in the distance. “One second, I’ll grab my car keys and take you there.”
“There’s no need.” I smile at her gratefully. “I’ll walk, I could use the air.”
She looks at me with uncertainty.
“Honestly, I love the grounds here. It’ll be nice to walk.”
I worry that she’ll offer to come with me and ask more about how I know the estate.
“They’re beautiful. We’re really lucky. The waterlilies are in bloom if you head that way.”
Relief makes me match her smile as I thank her, then walk across the gravel driveway. I step off it and onto a smooth stone path that weaves its way through manicured gardens in the direction of the warehouse. I’m going to miss the lake. It’s over to my right, the other side of the tree line. I rub a hand over my chest knowing it’s so close.
A few lilies blooming last time I came. But knowing they’re all blossoming now… I can’t miss it.
I head off the path and over the grass, slipping through the line of leafy trees, stepping onto the path at the other side that runs around the perimeter of the lake.
Tears prick at my eyes without warning, and I slam to a halt.
The surface of the water is barely visible beneath the blanket of pink and white. The flowers’ fresh scent hangs delicately in the air. Just like it did that day.
Inhaling, I walk closer to the water, soaking it in. Time has no hold here. If I close my eyes, I can hear my mother’s delighted giggle…. Gramps’ deep voice… my father’s laugh as I splashed him at the edge of the water.
“You’re awake.”
I snap my eyes open, the memory fading. Jet appears beside me, hands thrust into his pockets as he surveys the surface of the lake.
“Did you discuss what you needed to with Mr. Rich?”
His eyes stay on the waterlilies. “Yes. Everything’s sorted. We can leave now.” He clears his throat. “Unless you’d like to stay a little longer? ”
“No, I’m good.” My eyes return to the lilies, but I can’t make my feet move.
He rolls his shoulders and there’s a large crack. “Actually… I think I need another minute before I get back in the car.”
I side-eye him, but he’s not looking at me.
“Sure. Let’s stay.” My chest softens in relief. It’s too beautiful to leave just yet.
He rolls his neck this time, and it cracks too.
“That’s bad for your joints.”
“So you tell me. Must be my ancient thirty-three-year-old bones.” He turns toward me, and I feel the heat of his gaze on my cheek. “No age-related jokes? You must still be tired,” he mutters.
“He was thirty-three when he died.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Your father?”
I glance at Jet, then away again. I focus on a flower instead, allowing my eyes to trace over every dip and curve of its perfect petals.
“He was too young to die,” I whisper. “I think about what could have been if… It was caused by pilot error. The press reported on it a lot at the time.”
“I’m sorry, Ava.”
I’m grateful that there’s only a tinge of empathy in his voice. I got used to the sympathetic looks and words cooed over me when I was younger. Hearing them again resurfaces all that pain. I’d rather keep it submerged, blanketed in happy memories of lilies instead. Hidden in the depths where it doesn’t burn my lungs and sear my heart thinking about it.
“Did you find the flight back from New York easier?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation.
“I can only imagine the flight there was the hardest. Your first one since.”
I wrap my arms around myself, pushing away more memories before they can flourish into another sleepless, tear-filled night. “The way home was better… knowing you were the one flying me.”
Seeing any other pilot in that captain’s seat wouldn’t have helped me. But for whatever reason, seeing Jet sitting there did.
“I knew you’d be in control. I knew you wouldn’t make a mistake.” I hide my wavering voice with a quiet laugh. “Because you always win. Just like you told me after dinner with Jones and Carmichael.”
“Ava…”
His soft voice has my chest burning. I turn toward him and finally inch my eyes back up to his face.
“That was…” He inhales through his nose as his eyes roam over my face, settling on my lips. “It was wrong. I shouldn’t have touched you.”
I clamp my mouth shut so that I don’t blurt out that the touching didn’t bother me one bit. It’s the way he acted afterward. Like he was disgusted.
He drags in a ragged breath, then blows out slowly. “I had no right to.”
“Yet you did it anyway. Five times.”
His eyes darken, and his jaw clenches .
I sigh and turn back to the water.
“I used to come here with my parents and Gramps. The last time we were all here together, the lilies were in bloom like this.”
“Do you miss your mother?”
His question catches me off guard.
“Of course, I do.”
“You said she’s an actress in LA?”
Pride swells in my chest. “She is. She’s played some good roles. Like Bonnie in The Hidden Paths .”
Jet looks at me blankly.
“The sitcom? It was picked up by Netflix.”
There isn’t even a flash of recognition. He probably doesn’t even watch TV, probably thinks it’s beneath him or something.
“She left when you were a child?” It’s delivered like a question, but I don’t miss the judgmental undercurrent.
“She didn’t deal with her grief well after Dad died.”
“When did you last see her? I’m assuming she visits you often seeing as you told me New York was your first flight in years?”
My torso tightens as I pin him with a scorching glare.
“She’s busy. But she’s always sending gifts. She paid for my private schooling. She did everything she could to make sure I had what I needed.”
“I see.” He purses his lips.
“You see, do you?”
His nostrils flare and his lips thin as he looks down his nose at me .
“I’ve had enough of people ‘seeing’ things they know nothing about. Yes, I miss my mum. No, we’re not together. But she’s still my mum. I thought you’d understand what it’s like not seeing them every day. It doesn’t mean you stop loving each other. It doesn’t mean—”
“My mother died, Ava. She didn’t choose to leave me behind. She was taken. And I was an adult.” His gaze bores into mine, cold and unyielding.
My chest caves. I blink, struggling to breathe.
“You’re such an asshole…” I turn away from him, screwing my burning eyes shut. “Such an entitled, cold-hearted asshole!” I fire before I stride away.
“Ava!”
His continued shouts of my name are drowned out by blood rushing in my ears as I break into a run. I pump my arms harder as my feet slam heavily on the path. I don’t even know where I’m going. I just keep running, needing to be away from him. Be as far away as possible from his accusations and his self-righteous bullshit. Jet knows nothing about my family. Nothing about me. Yet he thinks he can cast judgment on my life like he’s superior to everyone around him.
Asshole.
My mother loves me. She’s invited me to LA to live with her countless times. I’m the one who’s stopped us seeing one another much over the years by not being able to get on a plane. I tried so many times. Made it as far as the boarding gate once. But then the tightness in my chest would start, followed by the spots in my vision. The last time I tried was when I was eighteen. I’m still amazed I finally did it with Jet. I should have tried herbal pills and the need to get one up on an arrogant asshole as an incentive years ago.
My legs burn. Running in heels is hard. I slow a little, hoping I’ve put enough distance between me and Jet.
Mum’s work keeps her in LA. If she could have survived after Dad died by staying in England, she would have. I was the one who didn’t want to move to the US with her. I wanted to stay near Dad’s memories. Near Gramps.
I was too scared that starting over somewhere alien to me would make me feel alone.
I drag in a splintered breath that sounds like a sob.
I didn’t want to feel alone.
“Ava!”
I’m spun around, large hands bracketing my upper arms as Jet’s wild eyes search out mine. His chest is heaving, and his tie has been thrown back over his shoulder.
“Get. Off. Me.” I struggle, but it only makes his hands curl tighter.
“I’m sorry.”
His eyes are murderous, he looks anything but sorry.
“Fuck you!”
I expect him to flinch, to react to the venom in my voice. But he doesn’t. His cool blue eyes just delve into mine like he can see all my secrets.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “You’re right. I’m an asshole.”
“One thing we agree on.” I struggle some more .
“Stop.” He walks us backward until I’m pinned between his body and a large birch tree.
“If you let me go, I’m going to smack your stupid face!”
He drops his hands. “Be my guest.”
My hand flies up like a rocket, but Jet’s faster. He grabs my wrist, then pulls my arm out, gripping my wrist tightly. He brings my palm back sharply against his cheekbone with a satisfying whack , making his head snap to the side and forcing a hiss to spill from his lips.
My hand throbs immediately before he encases it in his, rubbing the hot flesh with his thumbs.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I gape at the growing red handprint on his cheek.
“Didn’t want you going easy on me.”
He looks into my eyes and my breath stutters as I realize my heart is no longer hammering at the sight of him all pent-up. My pulse has moved lower… and now, it’s thrumming a deep rhythm between my legs.
“I wouldn’t have.”
“In that case, next time you can slap me yourself.”
“How about you stop being an asshole and no one gets slapped?”
We stare at each other like two angry bulls.
I tear my hand from his grasp and glance at my palm.
“I am sorry.” He tilts my chin back up, so I meet his eyes. “ Truly .”
The regret in his voice makes me screw my eyes closed, and I try to turn away. But he turns my face back to his.
“I let my feelings get away with me, and I spoke out of turn.”
“You have feelings?” I snort.
He doesn’t blink as he studies me. “You have so much fight in you, so much spirit. Yet, you keep yourself here in your safe little box.”
“I—”
“Tell me you don’t crave adventure, Ava. Tell me you don’t feel alive with possibilities when you think about all the things you haven’t seen in the world yet.”
He’s right. I always wanted those things. I craved them.
Until the thought of them gave me nightmares.
“I saw the way you looked when you came back from sightseeing in Manhattan. You were glowing . And it makes me mad knowing you were left behind. That you could have been seeing the world all these years.”
“I couldn’t,” I croak around the dryness in my throat as he tears my fears wide open. “Not wanting to fly, it’s—”
“—because flying stole your father from you. And made it too hard for your mother to be able to stay… I know how hard grief can be, Ava.”
I grimace as he leans closer.
“And I’m an asshole for even implying anything else. I’m sorry. ”
I’ve lost count of how many times he’s said sorry. But each one has been sincere. Each one has made the coiled muscles in my body ease a little more.
Warm breath fans over my skin as he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead.
My heart stalls.
He lowers his face, his eyes boring into mine. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t know how my hands travel to his chest, only that they’re fisting the fabric as I cling to him.
“I don’t forgive you.” My gaze drops to his lips.
“Good. I don’t deserve you to.”
I wet my lips, unable to look away from the glimpse of his perfect teeth as he breathes in slowly.
“I don’t even like you,” I say.
“Not many people do.”
He’s staring at me in a way that has me forgetting to breathe.
“You’re a stuffy suit with an unhealthy addiction to skipping.”
He leans closer until his lips almost brush mine. “What else?”
“I’ve never seen you smile properly. I bet you’re incapable. Emotionally stunted.”
“And?” His breath falls onto my lips, making them part so I can taste him.
“And you sweat a lot when you’re working out. It’s kind of gross.”
I’m lying, it’s totally hot .
“You use glasses,” I continue. “As if you’re too good to drink out of a carton.”
“I drank out of yours.”
I stall. “And how was that for you?”
A deep rumble vibrates in his chest, making my stomach flutter.
I twist his shirt inside my fists. He’s refusing to move any closer. It’s like he’s adamant he won’t be the one to take us past this line.
But ever since I met him, I’ve been unable to resist pushing Jet Grant. The flare in his blue eyes when I do is a thrill I doubt I’ll ever grow tired of. There’s something dangerously addictive about it.
“I bet you’re a terrible kisser because you can’t ever let go.”
One of his thick dark brows arches, but he remains rooted to the spot, making no move to prove me wrong.
“It’ll be like kissing a dead fish.” I lean closer. “Absolutely terrible…”
I slam my lips against his, expecting him to stiffen and push me away. Or to be uptight and awkward.
He’s none of those things.
He groans, and my knees buckle as he pins me against the tree. He sinks both of his hands into my hair and kisses me back. Feverishly.
I swallow back every word.
Jet kisses with a ferocity that floors me. But I refuse to let him win. So I match him. Stroke for stroke. Groan for groan. Desperate, groping hand for groping hand.
Jet Grant’s kiss could launch rockets, end famine, destroy hearts.
It has every nerve in my body firing out in confusion, energy buzzing through me in every direction it can go, then slamming back on itself and making my stomach flip and my head light.
“Jesus,” he groans, drawing back enough to nip my lower lip before he pushes forward again, turning me inside out with pleasure with the way his tongue commands my mouth.
His curse is the only thing that alerts me to how deep my nails are digging into the back of his neck as I kiss him. He looks at me with hooded lids as I grab his tie with my other hand and yank it loose. My hands fly to his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons.
He kisses me again, and I tear at his shirt, ripping it. He groans as I slide my hands over his chest, running them through the short smattering of hair. It’s soft and silky, just like I thought it would be. I scrunch my fingers, tugging on it.
“Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing one of my thighs and hooking it around his waist. My skirt is forced up, bunching around my hips.
He follows my eyes to his exposed chest.
“You ruined my shirt.”
“You can afford a new one.” My glossy red nails weave through his chest hair, vibrant against the dark strands .
“I liked this one.”
I tug at his hair in response.
His eyes flash. “You’re such a brat.”
“What you going to do? Spank me?” I bite my bottom lip to hide my smirk. But it’s ripped from my face as Jet yanks my soaked panties to one side.
A whimper escapes me, causing an arrogant glint to flare in his eyes.
He hasn’t even touched me, yet my body is a quivering wreck because of him.
And he knows it.
“No… but I will make you come on my fingers. The way you were so desperate to when I spanked you.”
I jerk my head back at the way he delivers the words in a deep husk.
“I wasn’t desperate,” I snap.
He spears me with two fingers, and I gasp. Greedy, traitorous body.
“No?”
“No.” I shake my head in defiance as he holds my eyes and crooks his fingers inside me, making me shudder.
“Okay.” He lifts his chin like he’s only agreeing to appease me. “So you weren’t desperate for this...” He pumps his fingers, and I fight not to give him any further reaction that would indicate how amazing it feels. “You’re a brat, Ava. You won’t convince me otherwise.”
I swallow a moan as my wetness coats his fingers. “You say that like you’re some sort of good boy who’s better than me. ”
He curls his fingertips over my G-spot. His eyes are laser focused on mine as he finger-fucks me with precision. My hands tremble against his chest as my heart rate picks up.
“There’s nothing good about the things I’m thinking of doing to you.”
His thumb slides over my clit. A twitch of his lips is his only emotion as I whimper, on the verge of coming already.
“Do you know why I call you a brat, Ava?”
“Because you have unresolved Daddy issues?” I tease.
His pupils dilate, and he grasps my throat with his free hand, curling his fingers around my windpipe.
“Because you are one.”
Pump, pump.
“Because you like to push me.”
Pump, pump.
“Because you secretly want me to punish you and keep you in line.”
Swirl, pump.
“Fuck off,” I moan.
Grunting, he rubs his thumb over and over my clit, using my arousal to slide over it effortlessly.
“And because you secretly crave to see what it feels like to come on my cock so hard that you forget your own name… but scream out mine.”
“God!” I come hard without warning, clamping down on Jet’s fingers as stars burst behind my eyelids. My head falls against his chest, and I breathe in his aftershave that’s lingering on his torn shirt.
He slides his hand from my neck, cradling the back of my head as I shatter in his arms.
“Shh,” he coos. “That’s it. Let it go.”
“Fuck.” Another wave tears through me as he continues massaging my clit.
I cling onto him to keep myself standing as my orgasm ravages through me, making my breath stutter.
He keeps his pace going, until another orgasm is coaxed from me.
“Jet,” I whimper as I come again, melting into his arms.
“Good girl. Say my name.” His deep voice flows over me, warming my chest as he slows his pace, wringing out every last drop of pleasure from my body.
I lift my head, my chest heaving as I catch my breath. He lifts his fingers between us—obscenely wet… covered in me.
“Open.”
“What—?”
He shoves his fingers past my lips.
“Suck,” he growls.
My eyes water, my throat full as he pulls his fingers back achingly slow so I can suck them clean. The sweetness of my arousal floods my tongue as I run it along his skin.
He slides them out and inspects them, then runs his thumb over my lower lip.
“Now swallow. ”
I do as he says, his eyes burning into mine.
“I can’t afford to get distracted, Ava.” His jaw tightens. “And knowing what you taste like when you come for me would be a big distraction. My head needs to be on securing a deal with Callaghan. You understand, don’t you?”
I nod in shock.
“Good.” He uncurls my leg from around his waist and lowers it to the ground, then smooths down my skirt. “Let’s go.”
He places his hand on my lower back and steers me through the tree line and back onto the path leading back to the main house.
The weight of his hand scorches the base of my spine as we head back to his car. He’s straightened his shirt, hiding the rip beneath his tie.
What the hell was that? How did I make the same mistake with him again? I love to push him. The way he makes my blood heat makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t in years, but still… The rebuttal afterward wasn’t as sharp this time, but the message was the same.
This is nothing more than a game to him.
I hear him loud and clear.
I climb into the car without looking at him when he opens the door for me. He lifts the blanket from where I dropped it on his seat, and folds it neatly, placing it inside the back of the car before getting in.
Neither of us says a word on the drive back to Rochwell .
His words ring in my head. But not the lust-fueled ones. Those sinfully hot ones are marred, tainted by the ones he said before the two toe-curling orgasms he wrung from me.
“Because flying stole your father from you. And made it too hard for your mother to be able to stay… I know how hard grief can be, Ava.”
Maybe he does. We both have lost a parent.
But that’s not what makes it so hard.
It’s the things I didn’t tell him about that were also stolen from me.
All gone in a single day where I lost everything.
Including myself.