Chapter 33
Ava is groggy and grumpy after her night of drinking, glaring at me through squinted eyelids when I attempt to wake her gently.
“Leave me alone,” she growls like a pissed-off honey badger.
Will she attack me? I’d probably enjoy it.
“I’d love to keep you in my bed all day,” I inform her while pressing kisses to where her shoulder peeks out of the shirt I lent her. “But you’ve got work. And I know how involved it is for you to call in sick.”
Her colorful, overstuffed schedule lives in my memory. Then a worry tugs away my teasing.
“Is this more than a hangover?” I keep my voice hushed to avoid causing her more pain. “Do you have a migraine?”
“No,” she groans, rolling away from me and toward the edge of the bed. “I drank my brew before going out.” She scowls at me over her shoulder, hair a tangled mess and eye makeup smudged under her eyes. “This is a normal hangover. And I know I look like death. And you’re over there looking…” She gives a vague wave toward me.
I glance down at myself, taking in my lack of a shirt and loose gym shorts. Normally I’d be dressed for the day by now, but a part of me half hoped Ava would decide to call off work and stay in bed. Then I could snuggle in with her. But that domestic fantasy is not to be.
“I’m looking…?”
Her delicious mouth digs deep frown lines into her lush face. “Shut up. You know how you look.”
“Do I?” I drag a hand down my torso and play with the waistband of my shorts. When I was in college, I had a six-pack, but those things are hard to maintain if you want to eat like a normal person. Still, I do swim a few—hundred—laps in the pool every other day. “Are you trying to say that I’m…bang-able?”
Honestly, Ava could say that I’m mildly attractive, and I would keel over from happiness.
She heaves herself off the bed with a groan and shuffles toward the bathroom, growling over her shoulder. “If I were in the mood to bang, then sure. But since I’m not, you’re just aggravatingly hot, and I need to not look at your fuckable face.”
I’m tempted to ask how I’m not currently bange-able, yet still fuckable, but decide to give the woman I love some space while she recovers from her drunken karaoke fest. Reclining on the bed, I stare at the ceiling with a goofy smile as I recall how tipsy and happy she was last night. And how I was the one she called to pick her up and take care of her even though she could just as easily have called an Uber back to her condo.
Though I do have her cat here.
Speaking of which, the little feline must be getting hungry. Wonder where Kraken has snuck off?—
“Ah!” Ava’s yelp shoots me off the bed and into the bathroom where I’m briefly mesmerized by her naked, wet body, fully visible through the glass door of the shower. Then I remember her sound of distress and shake away the need to insert my consciousness into the droplets that are slipping down the slopes of her breasts to catch on her pert nipples.
“What’s wrong?” I rasp, proud of myself for managing a full sentence, even if it only consisted of two words.
“Cat!” she snaps, pointing to the wet tiles at her feet. Dragging my eyes downward—fuck, every inch of her is soaked—I finally reach her toes where I spy a sopping wet kitten batting at the shower spray.
Don’t laugh. Don’t even smile. Be a firm disciplinarian.
“Naughty Kraken.” My scolding tone could use some work as I stroll forward, open the door, and scoop up the wet cat. “Let your mama shower and peace. Can’t you see how naked and wet and sexy she is?”
“Sammy.” Ava grinds my name out, and damn all the gods I only get more turned on. And hell, I can see her skin pinking with magic. She knows how much I want her right now. Still, I manage to retreat with my dripping cargo.
“I’ll dry this monster off and make you breakfast.” After announcing the peace offering, I stride out of the bathroom, using the retreat to tattoo the gorgeous image of a showering Ava into my brain. It is now a core memory I need for survival.
As I call on my Elemental power, the normal rocking wave sensation slow to draw up through my chest when I’m so thoroughly happy, I swear Kraken’s meow is resentful when I ease the water from her fur.
The little feline is a Squid, I swear.
When Ava enters the kitchen a half hour later, she’s much more put together. Only the lines of strain around her eyes indicate her head still hurts. Even though I want to kiss her and fill the air between us with bantering and teasing, I bite my tongue. That’s not what she needs from me right now. After a bland breakfast of eggs and toast that she only eats half of—probably slightly nauseous too—Ava pushes off her stool.
“Do you mind driving me to work? Or dropping me off at my car? I left it parked near the bar.” She rubs her temple, face scrunched. “Gods, I probably have a ticket.”
“I can drive you. No problem.” And I really want to, but I also have another option that might bring a happy shine to her miserable morning. “Let me grab my keys.”
I jog to the front hall, scoop up my keys, plus an extra set, and slip on a hoodie I left in the hall closet. There’s no need for me to visit the build site near Ava’s condo today, so I’d planned to stay home and work on designs for Yasmin and her BDSM dungeon. Maybe when Ava gets home she can give me some input.
I trip over that thought.
Ava coming home. As if my place is hers.
And I realize I want it to be. Badly. Before Ava, I was anxious about letting anyone new into my space. But now I don’t even think of it as mine. I want it to be ours.
Not too fast. Don’t scare her.
Still, I’m jittery with excitement when I return to the kitchen in time to see Ava scratching Kraken under the chin and muttering apologies for yelling earlier.
“Ready to go?” I gesture toward the garage entrance.
Ava grabs her bag—look at that, most of her stuff is already here—and follows me. But when we step into the garage, she stumbles to a stop. I pretend nonchalance. Not letting on that I’m holding my breath.
“Do you…is that…why do you have the same car?” Ava’s expression is pure confusion as her eyes flick from my royal blue Mustang to an identical one parked right beside it. The one that got delivered yesterday. The one she was too drunk to notice last night.
“Well, you see, this one,” I pat the hood of the closest muscle car, “is mine. And that one,” I point at the twin convertible, “is yours.”
She loved driving mine so much, why not get my girl her own?
At least that’s what my love-drenched mind had thought a week ago when I called the dealership about it.
But now I’m looking at her frown, staring at the downward curve of her lips, and losing confidence for every second that passes where the corners don’t tilt up.
“I—I’m not joking,” I swear, holding out a set of keys with an octopus keychain dangling from them. “It’s yours.”
Ava raises a hand, but not to accept the gift. Instead, she presses her fingers against her closed eyelids, as if her head is in even more pain. “I don’t want a car, Sammy.”
Dread is a mucky swamp in my gut.
“I thought you liked it.” My voice is weak with worry. I messed up. I’m messing this up. “That you would like it.”
Ava lets out a sigh that sends her shoulders drooping more than her hangover pain already had them.
“Is that why you bought it for me?” Her eyes are still closed as she asks. “Just because you thought I would like it?”
“Yes?” The word tilts up into a question because now I’m not even sure. Of course it’s just because I thought she’d like it. No ulterior motive whatsoever.
Definitely not bribery to get her to fall in love with me.
“We’re going to have to talk about this later,” she says with another soul-crushing sigh. “When I can think. And when I’m not about to be late for work.”
“Ava—”
Her hand wave cuts me off. “Please, Sammy. I just need to go to work.”
“Okay.” I nod. Too many times. And as I drive a quiet Ava to the job I know will stress her out even more, I try not to panic over her words.
“We’re going to have to talk…”
Talk.
This isn’t something I can buy or gift my way out of. Not something I can fix with money.
Ava’s love isn’t for sale.
And I think I just destroyed my shot at earning it.