Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ava scrubbed at the tears that had appeared on her face, sudden and hot and fierce. Her breath came unevenly, the dressing room and the stupid white dress blurring around her.
And then—
The bell on the front door rang distantly from the other side of the store. And then Jack’s voice, that low rumble of his, though she couldn’t make out the words.
Think, Ava.
There was no window to smash. She could make a run for it, but he was fast, he was good, and he always, always, always caught up with her. She could make a play for his gun and use it to get a head start. She could—
There was laughter, both Jack’s and Mikayla’s, and then footsteps. His.
Coming toward her.
Ava scraped more tears from her face. She could do this. She had to do this. The footsteps were right outside the room, Jack’s black boots visible below the heavy curtain.
For Ari, Ava told herself, and then she pulled back the curtain.
Jack was wearing his tux. He was grinning, a little wickedly, but his expression shifted abruptly. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Fuck him, fuck him for being able to read everything she tried to mask.
Fuck him for ever making her believe that meant he cared.
“Oh, you know,” Ava said lightly. “I was just scrolling this year’s trends to see which dresses might be the right fit, but Mikayla over here was being a real buzzkill.”
Mikayla was at a rack nearby, two dresses slung over her arm. She looked at Ava with only marginally less venom in her gaze. “Your husband explained the situation to me,” she said.
“That your luggage was lost by an incompetent airline,” Jack filled in, but his eyes were still focused on Ava. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Peachy,” Ava said. “Perkalicious. The usual.”
Jack arched an eyebrow. “All right,” he said.
It was a we’ll talk about it later sort of “all right,” but Ava didn’t intend to give him a later.
“How many dresses did you want to try on?” Mikayla asked.
“Two or three, at most,” Jack answered. “We’re in a bit of a rush.”
“Oh, seven or eight will do.” Ava smiled sweetly at Mikayla.
Jack caught her eye and shook his head slightly. It chased a shiver down her spine. Fear, yes, but longing, still. All of that, mixed with anger, a wildfire of it that would consume her if she lived long enough to let it.
That look on Jack’s face said: Rein it in, Cavalcante, or I will.
And god, after all this, she still wanted him to.
“Do you just want to see Versace?” Mikayla asked. “We only have two dresses from them, and ordering some in would take a few weeks. We do have some Givenchy, which has a few similar pieces. What’s the occasion?”
Well, Ava couldn’t say murder, could she?
Well.
She did have free will. And free speech.
“I want to look like I could kill a man.” Ava’s voice dripped with sugar. She could feel Jack’s eyes boring into the back of her skull. “Can you help me with that?”
Mikayla shrugged one shoulder. “You already look like you would,” she said. There was a hint of respect behind the sharpness.
“Thank you,” Ava said. Maybe she could be a girl’s girl about this, after all. “So do you, honestly. I’m sorry I went the bitchy route.”
To her surprise, the other woman startled and then smiled, just slightly.
“I can respect it,” she said. “All right. Are you looking for a black dress or something with color?”
“A red dress,” Jack said from the door.
When Ava turned, he wasn’t even looking at her as he said it.
A few minutes ago, Ava would have eaten this up—Jack taking charge, Jack using that look and that low voice to make Ava feel like she was melting. Now she was seething. Seething because he’d betrayed her, because everything she had been beginning to feel for him had been built on trust.
Seething because Jack taking charge was still hot.
“Oooh,” Mikayla said. For the first time, that hint of a smile looked conspiratorial. “Is he picking today?”
“He always thinks he’s in charge,” Ava said. “No, I’ll be wearing black. Something sophisticated but sensual.”
It was a fancy way of saying she wanted to wear a slutty little dress, but make it designer.
If Jack was going to betray her, Ava at least could get what she wanted here first.
Mikayla brought half a dozen dresses to the dressing room, but when she offered to come in and help Ava zip them, Jack stood without a word and came over.
“This is my job,” he said.
He put his hands on Ava’s hips and guided her into the single dressing room, pulling the curtain behind him.
And despite his betrayal, the touch burned.
“Jack,” she said. She wanted him, she fucking wanted him, and she would have him.
One. Last. Time.
Jack put his finger on her lips, pushing her backward against one of the two mirrors affixed to the walls. “Shh,” he said. “Don’t make a noise. Do you understand me?”
He made short work of her hoodie and shorts, and then he gathered her wrists with expert ease, pinning them against the mirror above her.
He looked into her eyes for a long moment and then repositioned her so that one hand was around her wrists, keeping them pinned, and the other was sliding down, down. Down.
And oh, Ava finally understood Jack O’Sullivan.
“I understand you,” she breathed.
“Good,” he said. “Then I’m going to fuck you, Ava. Color?”
“Green,” she gasped.
Desperately so.
“I’m going to go grab you some dresses in color,” Mikayla said from outside the curtain, just as Jack pushed a finger inside Ava’s slick entrance.
Ava held on to her gasp so tightly her vision blurred.
“Thanks,” she squeaked.
“No worries.” Mikayla’s footsteps faded as she left the cluster of dressing rooms and returned to the main store, and Ava’s body sagged with relief.
Jack was fucking her now, those hard, calloused fingers finding just the right spot inside her. Would he think of her, after all this was done?
Or would she be one more in a long line of people he had used and forgotten?
“Ava.”
Her body responded to his tone.
His pace had slowed, his dark eyes holding her gaze. “Color?”
“Green,” she said.
“You’re far away.” He increased his speed again, but more slowly than before, the pace unbearable.
“Then bring me back, O’Sullivan,” Ava said fiercely.
Jack’s eyes sparked, and then he moved his fingers farther, the fullness pushing Ava closer to orgasm.
“My god,” she whispered, letting her head fall back against the wall of the dressing room with a soft thump.
“My friends just call me Jack,” he said, his eyes lighting in that familiar way she had been naive enough to fall for. And then he pulled his fingers out of her, tugged his fly down, and moved toward her. “Do you want me inside you, Boss?”
Boss.
The nickname stung now. Dug its claws in, replaced tenderness with anger.
And unfortunately for Ava, the anger only made all this that much better.
Ava bit her lip to keep back the noise. She’d send the cops after him when she left him behind. She’d send the Jacobsons. She’d send the fucking Navy SEALs. But first—this.
A gentle knock on the wall from the other side of the curtain made Ava jump.
“I’ve got a red dress if you want?” Mikayla said.
“One second,” Ava called back breathlessly, glaring at Jack when his grin broadened.
“No worries,” Mikayla said again. “You all good in there? Any trouble getting the dresses on?”
“No trouble,” Ava called back, just as Jack slid inside her.
God, no matter how much he warmed her up with his fingers first, she was never quite ready for just how big he was.
“Okay,” Mikayla called. “I have another customer to help, so call me when you’re ready for the next dresses?”
“Sure thing,” Ava choked out.
“That’s good,” Jack said wickedly, the words dropped right into her ear, her hands still pinned above her head.
His other hand made circles on the outside of her clit, teasing her as he pulled back.
Then he thrust again, pinning her against the mirror.
“Look in the mirror, Ava. If you like being seen so much, look.”
“I don’t want to,” Ava said in a whisper-yell.
But she did. She wanted to see them, together, to freeze this last image of them in her mind, to remember what it was like when they were pretending to be two people who knew how to stay.
Jack pushed deeper inside her, eliciting the tiniest of whimpers. “Ah, ah, ah,” he said, his tone reproving. “Don’t make a noise, Ava. You know the rules.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Ava hissed at him, and meant it.
Maybe he sensed the furnace of anger there behind her words, or maybe he mistook it for the anger she was always carrying.
“Promises, promises,” Jack said, and then he took her chin in his hand, his calloused fingers rough on her skin, and turned her head forcibly to look in the mirror.
Ava was a sight—completely naked, hair wild, eyes half shut with pleasure. She was an absolute picture of hedonism, with Jack inside her, her hands still pinned even though her arms were aching now.
“Make me come,” she demanded. “Jack, please.”
He chuckled, and then he started fucking her harder and faster, holding her chin there, pinned just like her hands so that she was forced to look at herself in the mirror.
Just like every time this man had made her come, the pleasure hit her so hard she couldn’t stand. Wave after wave, Ava clenching around Jack, clinging to his shoulders desperately as they rode out their orgasms together.
Ava was still trembling, her legs weak from what Jack had just done to her—and from what she was planning to do to him. Jack stepped back, grinning at her as if this had cost him nothing.
“Sit,” he said. “I’ll grab the next dress for you if you’re ready.”
Ava sat, her chest still heaving. “I need my underwear,” she said.
“No, you don’t,” Jack said.
When Jack returned with another dress, Ava shook her head.
“No,” she said breathlessly. “No, Jack, I want you. Again.”
She would be dead—they might both be dead—within the next day.
This time, this last time, Jack moved slowly with her, his hands so careful, so tender, Ava could hardly breathe.
“This time,” he said softly, “I want you to keep your eyes on me.”
Ava caught her breath, and then hooked her arms around his neck, holding on to him.
There was nothing else.
Jack lifted her, her legs wrapping around his hips, and entered her without preamble or warm-up, his eyes locked on hers. “That’s it,” he said softly. “You’re going to come for me, Ava. Harder than you ever have in your life.”
He rocked his hips into her. She was so sensitive it was painful, but it was exhilarating.
It was pleasure unlike anything she had ever known, the last she might ever feel, and his hands were crushing her thighs where they held her there, and his cock was filling her like she had never felt, and then—and then—
Jack’s mouth was on her mouth, his tongue inside her, kissing her hard.
And Ava came apart.