Chapter 14
I work my way through at least half a jar as I listen to the whir of the appliances in our otherwise silent kitchen, while staring at the missed call from Ava’s brother. I won’t call him back. He saw and heard way more than I’m comfortable with, and I’m too exhausted to take him on this morning. I have more important things to do. Like fix my marriage. It’s been tumultuous and we’re only a week in.
I screw the lid back on and pop the jar in the fridge, reading a message from Jay as I get a glass down.
You and your wife (if you’re still married) are barred.
I chuckle sardonically, sending him a thumbs up—fine by me—as I fill the glass and empty a sachet of Alka Seltzer into it, listening to it fizz before giving it a quick stir. I take it up to Ava, perching on the edge of the bed and taking a few moments to appreciate the quiet before I wake her. Before I take her on.
“I love you,” I whisper, reaching for her face and pushing back some strands of hair. She murmurs sleepily, her closed eyes squinting. My own head bangs in sympathy, but if she’s going to be reckless with alcohol, she must face the consequences. As must I, apparently. She’s going to be good for nothing today, feeling sorry for herself. Perhaps that’s a good thing. No one wants to argue when their head feels like it could fall off.
She gingerly opens her eyes, obviously preparing for her head to explode. “Drink.” I hold out the glass, and she grunts, throwing me a disgruntled look before turning her back on me.
“Leave me alone.”
I laugh. It’s the only way forward. Laugh or bite and take us back at square one when we were tearing strips off each other. “Hey, come here.” I pull her across the bed with little effort and put her on my lap. “Drink,” I order more sternly, tipping the glass at her lips. “All of it.”
She does as she’s told—it’s a novelty—before she falls into my bare chest in a heap.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad.”
Yeah, I can smell it.I rid my hand of the glass and move up the bed, resting back against the headboard.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, making me peek down at her head in surprise. “...ish.”
I smile into her hair. “Me too.” That’s it. We’re both sorry. It’s a good start. But now she’s back where she should be—and I’m not consumed by the fact that she walked out on me, that I was alone, feeling hopeless and lost—I have space in my mind to feel sad about what led us here. I’m absolutely gutted she’s not pregnant. Gutted. It’s an added layer of worry and something I need to look into. I’m... broken.
The silence stretches, Ava’s breathing shifting frequently from deep to shallow. She’s clammy and a little shaky. It’s not nice. “What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I’m thinking we can’t go on like this. It’s not good for you.”
Me? I’m fine. Probably infertile, but I’m fine. Ava, however, is becoming irrational. Reactive. “I don’t care about me.”
“What are we going to do?”
That’s a good question. I am fully aware that our relationship is volatile. I know my insecurities are a contributing factor to that. Problem is, I’m a man who has lost everything I’ve ever loved, and now I have Ava, I’ve become quite... attached to her. No man loves harder than a man who needs it returned. Or a man who’s hiding endless pain. I don’t want to be that broken man for Ava, but it’s clear that by trying to be strong and dependable, I’ve become unbalanced.
I get Ava onto her back and lie on top of her, snuggling between her boobs. “I don’t know,” I whisper, kissing the center of her chest. “But I do know how much I love you.”
“Why did you do it?” she asks quietly, making me pause, breathing her skin in. Why? Because I was desperate. Five days without her felt like I relived the past twenty years in slow motion, except without the usual distractions from my misery.
I look up at her, hating the hurt I see in her eyes. “Because I love you. Everything is because I love you.” My craziness, my protectiveness, my extreme... everything.
“You treat me like a slapper,” she says with a frown. Oh? She’s talking about last night? Not the fact I stole her pills? “Fuck me in the toilet of a bar with no words,” she goes on. “And then walk out to go and feel up another woman?” The frown’s turned into a mild scowl. It’s warranted. Because I fucked her like she meant nothing. I didn’t mean to. I only meant to prove that no matter how hard she tries, she will always gravitate toward me. Respond to me. Need me. “Did you do that because you love me?”
“I was trying to prove a point.” And it backfired. All I’ve done is make her feel cheap and forced an epic retaliation. “And watch your mouth,” I grumble.
“No, Jesse,” she retorts. “You were trying to be a wanker.” Ouch. She wriggles, trying to free herself, and panic grabs me. She’s going to leave again? Not over the pills, but over me fucking her? “I need a shower,” she says as I beg her with sorry eyes not to go. I’m given an expectant glare in return. I’ll stop her this time, I swear. Hopefully not with force.
Reluctantly, I move off her, holding my breath as she gets up, wondering which way she’ll go.
The bathroom.
She closes the door, and I exhale my relief, hearing the tap run, followed soon after by the shower.
Make it right.
“How?”
Patience.
Hmmm. It’s not one of my finest qualities. I get up and go to the door, pushing it open gently, seeing her under the spray. I could go back at her. Point out all her misdemeanors. But I won’t.
Grovel.
I push off my boxers and step into the stall, putting my front to her back, reaching round to claim the sponge. “Let me,” I say, stroking across her wet tummy. I apply pressure, encouraging her to face me, and drop to my knees, starting to look after her.
Quiet. Patient.
And she lets me, because she knows I need this element of our relationship and also because, despite her fierce independence, she likes me taking care of her. I feel everything inside of me settle and silently thank her for giving me what I need in our chaos. Does she get that from me? Does she ever settle when I care for her? Does this bring her calm throughout her storm?
I can hear her mind racing. Hear the endless questions. Possibly not. “Where have you been since Monday?” she asks, and I smile at her thigh as I swipe the sponge across her skin.
“In hell,” I whisper, watching the water wash away the suds. “You left me, Ava.”
“Where were you?”
“I was trying to give you space.” I continue with my task, cleaning her, taking my time, savoring it, making up for the days I’ve lost. “I realize how I am with you,” I whisper. “And I wish I could stop myself, I really do.” God, I’ve tried. I’ve had endless conversations with myself over it. Listened to the people I love, those who are alive and those who are not. “But I can’t.”
“Where were you, Jesse?”
I’m about to answer her with another half answer, but then it clicks what she’s actually asking me. The fuck? She thinks I betrayed her again? Got blind drunk and fucked someone else?
Never.
“Following you,” I say quietly, reluctantly. But I’d rather she knows that truth—knowing I didn’t actually respect her request for space—than think I was lost in booze and women. “Everywhere.”
“For four whole days?”
Four whole days.Is that all it was? It felt like forty years. “My only comfort was seeing how lost you were too,” I say, looking up at her surprised face. Does she believe me? I get her on the floor with me, my hands all over her face, my lips unable to hold back from kissing her. She breathes my breath into her deeply, holding my wrists. “We’re not conventional, baby,” I say. “But we’re special. What we have is really special. You belong to me, and I belong to you. It just is. It’s not natural for us to be apart, Ava.”
“We drive each other crazy.” Her eyes scan mine, looking for me to confirm it. I don’t need to. “It’s not healthy.”
It’s healthier than the alternative. “Not healthy would be my life without you in it.” I just had four days of not healthy. Not a fan. I pull her close, crowding her with my arms. “This is where you’re supposed to be. Right here, always with me.” In my arms, on my mouth, a constant on my mind. “Don’t ever kiss another man again, Ava,” I say quietly. “They’ll be locking me away for a long time.”
“You need to stop with the crazy shit,” she orders, looking at me while she feels my face. I’d say her kissing a stranger is crazy. But I know it could be argued that my crazy pushed her to that crazy. So I keep my mouth shut, hoping we can now move forward and spend the rest of the weekend making up for lost time.
“And you need to stop with the defiant shit.” I steal a kiss, smiling when she scoffs.
“Never.” Her arms come around my shoulders, her legs straddling my thighs.
And there is that first dash of contact. I inhale, feeling her heat on me as I snake an arm around her hips and lift her, while she kisses me wildly, obviously keen to get on with making up for that time too.
“I’ve missed you,” she mumbles, her tongue frantic in my mouth. It’s my undoing.
“Lower,” I order softly, holding myself upright, my cock singing for her, my lungs expanding as she slides down, her shoulders high, her body solid until I’m buried balls deep and shaking madly. “Fuck,” I whisper, tearing my mouth from hers and burying my face in her hot neck. She flexes her hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Then pulls my face back out, scanning my eyes, my face, before taking my mouth again, her arms braced on my shoulders, her hips rolling.
And it’s beautiful.
But I’m so surprised she doesn’t demand a condom. Not that it matters, since she’s restocked on pills. And I’m apparently infertile. Has she concluded I must be? Is she reassured by that? Is that why she’s here? Being reasonable? She’s okay because she didn’t want kids.She’s okay even though I’m so fucking sad I’ll never get to share the ultimate with her. Devasted. But I’d be even more devasted if I didn’t have Ava.
She moans as I move her on my lap, lifting and lowering her slowly, working us both up steadily and slowly. No rush. It’s fucking exquisite. The friction, the pace, her mouth worshipping mine, her boobs slipping all over my chest, the hot water raining down on us. Her pussy clenching me. “Ava,” I mumble, preparing her, telling her, feeling the blood racing through my body to my dick.
“Yes,” she breathes, tugging at my lip with her teeth. “God, yes.”
I grunt, lifting my arse from my heels, holding hers with one hand, the back of her head with my other. The calm becomes frantic, mouths, bodies, and heartbeats. I pull back and look at her, seeing the excited sparkle in her dark eyes. She pushes her forehead to mine, fists my hair. “I love you,” she whispers. My hips jerk, my control lost, the muscles in my thighs burning as I tackle her mouth again and kiss us to the finish line, bucking on a grunt as I come. Ava hardens our kiss more, every inch of her becoming stiff, the walls of her pussy sucking me deeper as she climaxes on a whimper. The shakes set in, my lungs are screaming, and my arse collapses back to my heels.
“Welcome home, baby,” I say, spent, hearing her long, exhausted exhale as she settles in my neck, clinging to me. We’re home. “You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
I pull back, one eye narrowed. “You need to eat,” I reiterate.
The corner of her lip quirks. “I said, I’m not hungry.”
Oh, I see. So this is how it’s going to be, huh? “You’ll eat.”
“I’m not hungry.” Her challenging eyes feed the energy charging through me. And my softening dick.
“If you don’t eat,” I say quietly, loading my voice with threat, “I’ll have to find a way to make you.”
“Oh?” Her eyes fall to my lips. “And how will you do that?”
Temptress. I get to my feet, turn off the shower, Ava still in my arms, and walk our soaking wet bodies to the bed, slipping out of her and throwing her down. She squeals, landing on the mattress, her wet body glistening. My dick twitches as I start slowly working it back to full hardness. She bites her lip, watching. “Will you eat?”
“No.”
“Does someone need some sense fucking into them?”
“Maybe,” she purrs around a small grin, looking me up and down.
“Then let me help you out.” I grab her ankles and spin her onto her front, slapping her wet arse. Her scream blends with the stinging sound as I blanket her body with mine and move her hair aside, forcing her head back so I can kiss her, kneeing her thighs apart and sliding into her on a satisfied groan. “Oh, baby, this weekend is going to be fun.”
She cries out, my hips fire into action, and the sound of our wet bodies slapping together fills the bedroom.
Along with Ava’s constant screams.