She chugs it down at an epic rate, not even coming up for air.
“I’ll run a bath.” I collect her from the stool, smiling when she engulfs me with every limb, finding just enough energy to cling to me.
I make my way slowly up the stairs and set her neatly on the bed. “I don’t have time for a bath,” she says. “I’ll have a shower.”
“You have plenty of time.” All day, in fact, and I cannot wait to spend it with her. “We’ll grab some breakfast and go to The Manor mid-morning. Now, stretch.” I press my lips into her sweaty forehead and linger for a while, before I push myself up and head for the bathroom, naturally chewing on my bottom lip as I go, waiting for the fireworks to explode, my shoulders high in preparation. I flip on the taps and pour in some bath soak. Will she challenge me? Refuse? I swish the water, creating masses of bubbles.
“Jesse, I need to go to the office,” she calls, sounding uncharacteristically timid. She’s worried that I was serious when I hijacked her diary.
I was. “No, you don’t,” I call back. She will not win this one. Besides, I have an appointment. Doesn’t she want to spend the day with me? And it’s Friday. It’ll get my weekend off to the best start. I smile, excited at the prospect of three whole days indulging in her. In us. “Stretch.”
There’s silence for a few beats, but just when I think—and hope—she’s relented, she speaks up, albeit quietly. It’s the voice of someone who knows they’re fighting a losing battle. “All of my equipment is at the office. My computer programs, reference books, everything.”
I wander to the door and lean against the frame, finding her looking small in my big bed. Small and nervous. “And you need all that stuff?” I ask.
“Yes.” She shows the ceiling her hands, as if it’s an obvious answer. Nothing is obvious to me these days, only one thing. How I feel about her. “To do my job,” she adds.
Her job is to keep me in the light. “Okay, we’ll stop by your office.” Problem solved. I go back to the bathroom and check the bath, her sigh so loud I can hear it over the rushing water. I sit on the edge, gently gliding my hand through the bubbles, my eyes on the doorway, waiting for her to storm in and demand I stop being unreasonable. I’d like to think her lack of an appearance is because she’s concluded that devoting her day to me is too appealing to turn down. But I know she’s simply too exhausted to take me on.
I wait for the water to get halfway up and then turn off the taps before I make my way back into the bedroom, finding her spread-eagled on the bed. I dip and get close to her ear. “Bath’s ready,” I whisper, gathering her into my arms. She doesn’t fight me. It’s an encouraging sign.
“You were serious, weren’t you?” she says as I set her down by the bath, taking the bottom of her running top.
“I was serious about what?” Her accusing eyes disappear for a split second when I pull the vest over her head, but they’re soon back, and even more accusing. I’m serious about a lot of things when it comes to Ava. Her question is far too broad.
“About not sharing me.”
Oh, that. “Yes.” Deadly serious.
“What about my other clients?” she asks, studying me as I continue to strip her down. There’s only one other client who is of particular interest to me, but by singling him out, I’ll raise questions I don’t want to answer. So I’ll be comprehensive. For now.
“I said I don’t want to share you.” I lower to my haunches, taking her shorts with me, and she lifts a foot in turn for me to remove them.
She makes no attempt to get in the tub, still drilling holes into me as I rise. This doesn’t bode well. Her breathing is no longer strained, and that’s leaving space for vigor.
“I don’t need to be at The Manor to collate designs, Jesse,” she says as I pick her up and put her in the bath.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t,” she argues as I strip, looking at me in the way she does when she’s set for a win. Which means I’ll lose. I’m not in a losing mood today.
She shifts forward in the tub, and I slip in behind her, settling back and positioning her just so, her back to my front. It’s quite incredible really. We’re kind of having a disagreement and yet we both still need to be touching each other. “If I let you go to the office,” I say quietly, choosing my wordsverycarefully, “you have to do something for me.”
“Okay. What?”
My eyebrows jump up at her easy acceptance. Then I’m quickly and silently pointing out to myself that she doesn’t yet know what the condition is. It also reminds me she doesn’t know what The Manor is. But she will. That’s the point. It’ll set things in motion. Give me a timeframe to work to. “You’ll come to The Manor’s anniversary party.”
She tenses. “What? Like a social event?”
“Yes.” I nod. That’s the perfect description. A social event. Where everyone gets naked, screws each other, and whips and bondage gear galore come out to play. After they’ve had an indulgent three-course meal, obviously. “Exactly like a social event,” I add on a frown. I can see her face in my mind’s eye. It’s horrified.
“When?” she asks over a sigh.
I cage her in my arms and legs, clinging tightly, a silent message that I will never let her go, no matter her reaction. No matter her disgust. “Two weeks today.”
Fourteen days and counting, brother.
“You’ll come,” I whisper, sucking her ear, licking the shell, smiling when she stiffens and wriggles, her skin gliding perfectly over mine.