Apparently.
I burst through the door, stalk to her desk, and catch her before she can take a seat, throwing her over my shoulder. Her squeal makes my damn fucking cock twitch. Even blood-boiling mad, I’m still hard for her.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” she shouts as I pass her colleague’s desk, his eyes wide as he follows my path. I get her outside and find a suitable wall. “Jesse, fucking hell! Put me down now!”
I cringe. Good lord, won’t she stop cursing like a fucking sailor? I reach back and start to slowly ease her down my front, making sure every inch of her front slides across every inch of mine. With my arm wrapped around her waist, I hold her off the ground, our noses nearly touching, my raging erection pressed in her lower stomach.You feel that, baby? That’s for you, even if you don’t fucking deserve it right now.
She groans as my eyes dart across her face, drinking in every exquisite piece of her desire. I didn’t need this confirmation. But I wanted it. What game is she playing?
She swallows and looks across to her office window, wincing. Fuck them.
“Mouth,” I whisper, pulling her face back to mine. “You stood me up.” I kiss her chastely, and everything inside of me softens. My world stabilizes. My heart announces its presence. And as I stare at her, my life seems to tunnel into an oblivion of her. All her.
She looks away, as if she can’t stand the intensity of our eyes being locked. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry she keeps ping-ponging between acceptance and denial. I’m sorry she can’t hack the whirlwind of our connection. I’m so fucking sorry. And frustrated. And lost. And, fuck me, dependent on what only she appears to be able to give me.
It’s a shitty situation to be in. For me,andfor her. But it is what it is. I’ve accepted it. It’s time, once and for all, for her to stop fucking fighting it. Just feel it.Allof it.
I slam my mouth to hers, swallowing her whole with my kiss, my passion, my need. She doesn’t deny me. She can’t possibly when we’re touching. A crowbar couldn’t pry us apart, so Ava fighting would be fruitless.
I push my groin into her stomach hard, showing her something else she does to me. The irrational reactions are out of my control. My craving. My obsession. My frustration. “What do you need time for?” I ask, and she sighs on a mild shake of her head.
“To think.”
Think? She needs to stop thinking. It’ll drive her nuts like it does me. “Don’t think, Ava,” I say sternly. “This is how it is. Accept it.” I force myself to break away, my dick aching, willing me to bury it inside her. Right fucking time, wrong fucking place. I reach out to steady her when she sways, my smile unstoppable.Go on, baby. Deny it now. Tell me I don’t turn your world upside down.
She hisses in pain, and I recoil.
I drop her, stepping back, my eyes like lasers on the collection of bruises on her arm. My jaw goes into overdrive, my teeth gritting, my breathing going to shit once again. It’s something else I can’t control where Ava O’Shea is concerned. This newfound anger.
There are two instructions running on repeat through my head. Just two.
Find that bald prick.
And kill him.
She quickly covers the source of my rage, her hand settling over the marks. It’s a pointless effort. They’re imprinted on my mind. “I’m fine,” she says quietly, shifting awkwardly before me. “I need to get back to work.”
I stare at her, this beautiful, oblivious woman, and something uncomfortable shifts inside of me. Guilt. Except this guilt is unfamiliar, yet it hurts just as bad. It turns my stomach. It makes me want to punish myself. Knowing she’s hurt kills me, whether physically or emotionally, and as I stand here, looking at the woman who has knocked me for six, I have the most unbearable realization.
I can hurt her the most. I’ve only ever hurt the people I’ve loved. I could kill her spirit. Her faith. Her trust.
That woman out there, she’s falling in love with you, Jesse. Like every other fucking woman you’ve had. Except probably harder. Probably faster. And that is plain fucking cruel when she doesn’t know who you are.
I try to ignore John’s words. I can’t. Because while I’m sure this woman can fix me, it could break her in the process. And, Jesus, I can’t do that to her.
I move back, dazed, confused, and feeling even more broken than I have before.
She’s a cure. I’m a disease.
Walk away.I should let her have the man and life she deserves. I’m not that man. And I can’t give her that life.
My anger returns tenfold, and my feet carry me back, away from her, my body working in line with my brain. I can feel Ava’s confused expression resting on me.
I. Am. Beyond. Help.
I was a fool to think even for a moment that Ava could save me. Because if saving me means breaking her, I’m out.
I blink, my eyes stinging, and turn, walking away from her.