‘You’re heading for a Retribution Fuck.’
Startled, she looks up at me, my promise snapping her out of her trance. I immediately kick myself. Too much? Ava laughs somewhere between bewilderment and amusement. ‘What the hell is a Retribution Fuck?’
I feel heat in my cheeks, and she hasn’t missed it, her gaze jumping from my bristly face to my eyes. There are so many mind-bending things for her to get her head around. The time has come to address the fucks. While the styles of fucks I lay on my wife were perfectly understood between us, I never imagined what it must sound like to a stranger. And, right now, painfully, my wife is practically a stranger. Great. So we’re going to have a conversation about fucks. Why didn’t I keep my stupid mouth shut and focus on getting that dress off?
I take in air, wary of her half smile. She might not be smiling in a minute. ‘Want to sit down?’
‘Do I need to?’
‘Probably,’ I admit, reluctantly moving from her path.
She moves across to the chair and slowly lowers herself, her eyes always on me. ‘So, the Retribution Fuck?’
‘It’s like a punishment, I guess.’ I shrug and put the stupid scissors away.
She looks horrified, and every reason for me to be worried about this conversation is confirmed. ‘You punish me?’
‘Yes, but you like it.’
‘I like being punished?’
Damn it. How can I explain this so it makes any sense at all? ‘It’s a game,’ I start, having a quick nibble on my lip before I go on. ‘A power play. You’ve always humoured me.’ Fucking hell, what do I sound like? ‘The handcuffs . . .’
Her neck recoils sharply, and she hisses, reaching for her head on a wince. Guilt tears me up inside, and I move in to ease her, but come to an abrupt halt when she raises her hand, warning me off. ‘Handcuffs? Again with the handcuffs. You didn’t just use them as a gimmick on our wedding day?’
Fucking hell. I shrug sheepishly. ‘It’s all part of the game.’
Ava looks away, her hand still on her head, rubbing lightly. ‘Who has the power?’ she murmurs meekly.
Another jolt of life sparks within me, and I quickly put myself on the stool in front of her, taking her hands from her head and holding them firmly. ‘Me.’ I swap her hands for her cheeks and plant a kiss on her lips. ‘Always me.’
‘But something tells me it’s actually me,’ she says against my lips, and I smile like a madman, because she’s right.
‘You keep telling yourself that, lady.’ I rub her nose with mine.
‘So you punish me.’ She takes my hands from her cheeks and interlaces our fingers. ‘What for?’
‘Not doing as you’re told. And sometimes I utilise the Reminder Fuck, just to remind you of your place.’
Eyes wider still, she just stares at me. ‘The Retribution. The Reminder. All sounds lovely.’ The sarcasm in her tone is potent. ‘What other fucks do we have?’
‘I think your favourite is the Truth.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, you get to handcuff me, usually when I’m asleep.’ I scowl at her. I can’t help it. ‘And you use your position of power to extract information from me.’
Her eyebrow lifts, her eyes looking me up and down. She’s imagining restraining me. It’s both thrilling and terrifying. Especially when there’s so much more about us for her to learn. I decide here and now that, in actual fact, I’d hate it if Ava laid a Truth Fuck on me again. I make a mental note to find the cuffs and hide them somewhere she’ll never find them.
‘Then there’s the Apology,’ I continue.
‘Who’s apologising?’ she asks quickly, though I know she knows.
‘You.’
‘What for?’
‘Usually being defiant.’
She laughs again. ‘Like wearing an unsuitable dress?’
‘Exactly like that.’
‘So are you going to make me apologise?’
Jesus, I’d love nothing more. My dick is screaming at me to let her. ‘I’m not sure you’re up for that just yet.’
‘Why? What do you make me do?’ Her face is becoming more horrified by the second.
Make her? I don’t make her do a damn thing. Wouldn’t dream of it. My lips press together. Jesus Christ, I must sound like a monster. I cough and glance down at my groin, and Ava flies up from her stool. ‘Are you fucking kidding me, Ward?’
More sparks, more life. She called me Ward. She only ever calls me that when she’s spitting mad with me. And what do I do when she swears? ‘Watch your fucking mouth!’ I bellow, knocking her back a few steps with the force.
‘Fuck off!’ she snaps, stomping off out of the kitchen.
Shit, I love her so fucking much. I go after her, hearing her indignant huffs and puffs as she stamps up the stairs. ‘Ava,’ I call, running up behind her, three steps at a time.
‘Fuck you! You’re a hypocritical wanker, Ward. Watch my mouth? Why don’t you watch yours!’
I notice a small limp in her last few steps. ‘You called me Ward!’ I rush to explain, and she stops. ‘You always call me Ward when you’re cranky with me.’
She slowly turns, her thoughtful face coming into sight. ‘I imagine I call you Ward all the time,’ she mutters.
‘A few times a day,’ I admit, my shoulders jumping up casually. ‘Mostly, you humour my needy side.’ I extend my hand from a few steps below her, resigning myself to the fact that, today, the dress can stay. She just better hold me back if some pervert has a wandering eye. ‘And the thing I need most of all is you.’
Her body softens, her sigh definitely dreamy. ‘And then you’re all romantic.’
I smile, and I know it’s shy. ‘I’ve been known to have my moments.’
‘Like?’ The interest in her voice thrills me. She’s craving information, and I’m more than happy to give it. ‘We have romantic fucks too, you know.’
She laughs lightly. ‘Well that’s a relief.’
‘There’s sleepy twilight sex. And sleepy sex. And the Compromise Fuck. We had loads of those when you were expecting the twins.’
‘And what does a Compromise Fuck entail?’
‘A little rough, a lot of gentle. And, for the record, lady, you were the one who wanted the rough.’ I nod when she huffs a light breeze of surprised laughter. ‘And then there’s the Quiet Fuck. Usually when we’ve stayed at your parents’.’
Her light laughter turns quickly into hard laughter. ‘You gag me, don’t you?’
‘You can’t keep your pleasure quiet, Ava. What can I say?’ I shrug around a cocky grin, and she shakes her head in dismay.
‘Go on,’ she urges.
I take a step up, bringing us to eye level. ‘The Proposal Fuck was quite romantic.’
‘You asked me to marry you during sex?’
‘Actually, you were handcuffed to the bed and I didn’t release you until you accepted.’
She’s now on the verge of falling to her arse in amusement. I know it’s a lot to take on board. But at least she’s laughing and not raging any more. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing.’
‘Believe it, baby. But if it makes you feel better, I did propose again. On my knee. In front of your parents.’
Satisfaction flourishes before my very eyes. She looks dreamy, one hand moving to her chest. This pleases her. I know how much her parents’ opinion means to her. I try to behave around them. I try really hard. I don’t always succeed, but still. It’s the thought that counts.
‘It was my birthday. You couldn’t say no.’
A smile pulls at the side of her mouth. ‘And how old were you?’
‘Twenty-five.’
Softly chuckling, she glances away, clearly coming to terms with all of this. Her life. My life. Our life. ‘Wait.’ She looks back to me. ‘Why did you propose twice?’
>
All the contentment flowing through my veins turns to acid, my lips forming a straight, annoyed line. I’m not annoyed with her, more with myself. ‘We’d had a disagreement.’
‘Really? I can’t imagine what there could have been for us to disagree about.’
There it is. That sarcasm. ‘Sarcasm—’
‘Doesn’t suit me. I know. Why did you propose twice?’
‘Can we get back to the fucks?’
Her head tilts in impatience. ‘Tell me.’
I can’t go over this again, and I’m not afraid to tell her so. ‘It doesn’t matter. Just know I punished myself and you punished me, too.’
Comprehension dawns fast, and she flinches, as if she could be being hit with the motherfucking whip in her mind. ‘So you cheated on me when we were engaged?’
‘God, no!’ I blurt, disgusted by the suggestion. Give me strength. I won’t insult her and tell her we barely knew each other, nor will I argue my case in any way. It’s done. I can’t change it. I hate myself every day for it, but it’s done. ‘You found out when we were engaged. That’s why I proposed to you again. Properly. I was trying to show you that I could be the man you needed, as well as the man you wanted.’
‘Oh,’ is her only acknowledgment.
Good. Let’s move on. On to the most utilised fuck in our lives. ‘The Danger Fuck is our favourite these days.’
‘What’s that?’
‘When the kids are within a mile radius.’ Her smile’s back. And so is mine. ‘Can we go for dinner now?’
‘Depends.’ Her nose lifts, and she waits for me to ask for confirmation of what exactly our date depends on.
I don’t need to ask. On a dramatic roll of my eyes, I pick her up, mindful of that limp, and carry her down the stairs. ‘You can wear the stupid fucking dress.’
She grins, victorious, and loops her hands over my neck. ‘Wasn’t so hard, was it?’
‘We’ve not left the house yet. And you should have worn flats instead of heels. I saw you limping.’
‘I wasn’t limping.’
‘Are you arguing with me?’
‘Yes.’
I wrinkle my nose and nuzzle hers. ‘Are you wearing lace under that red thing?’
‘I didn’t have much choice. There’s nothing but lace in my knicker drawer.’
‘Good.’ I carry her out and put her in my Aston, pulling the belt across her body. She doesn’t protest, just lets me do my thing and buckle her up. ‘We’re late,’ I muse, checking my Rolex as I shut the door and round the car. Falling into the driver’s seat, I start her up and rev a few times.
‘That’s your fault for having so many fucks to explain.’ She goes to the mirror and applies a little gloss to her lips. ‘Which was your favourite, by the way?’
I laugh, loud and sharp as I put the stereo on and Glass Animals’ ‘Youth’ fills the car. ‘All except the Truth.’ I turn up the volume and zoom off, reminding myself to find those handcuffs and hide them.
Chapter 27
As expected, the gang is waiting for us when we arrive, all sitting around a table in the corner, two spaces left for me and Ava.
As soon as Kate spots us, she scrambles up from her chair and takes Ava in a hug, getting as close as her baby bump will allow. ‘So good to see you.’
‘We’re still young in my head.’ Ava sighs, and Kate starts giggling.
‘How’s yoga going?’
‘Great. I met a girl, Zara – she’s so lovely – and she mentioned that the firm she works for is always looking for new interior designers. I might look into it.’
I scowl. Over my dead body.
‘That’s fab,’ Kate says, flicking me a cautious look as my wife pulls away and tugs that ridiculous dress down her thighs.
I scowl again, this time at the racy red number, wondering what I was thinking letting her wear it, and pull out Ava’s chair. ‘Sit,’ I order, earning a collection of incredulous looks from all angles of the table. ‘Please,’ I add through my ticking jaw.
Ava lowers to the seat, the tension obviously thick, not because of my beef with the dress, and not because she’s talking about a job she’s not going to be applying for. It’s the first time the guys have seen Ava since the accident. Sam, Drew and Raya all look a bit nervous, none of them obviously knowing what to say to her.
Ava must sense it, because she flicks me a nervous look and then sighs, returning her attention back to our quiet friends. ‘Nice to meet you,’ she chirps.
The guys laugh, and the tension lessens as a result of her joke. ‘Drinks?’ I flick my arm in the air, summoning a waiter.
Everyone throws their orders at me for alcohol, excluding Kate, but including my wife. I don’t think so. ‘Water, please,’ I tell the waiter as I indicate to Kate and my wife. ‘For me, too. And wine for Raya.’ I nod across to her.
‘Make it a bottle,’ Drew pipes in quietly.
Ava’s hand meets my forearm as she leans across, speaking quietly. ‘I’d like wine.’ She thinks I didn’t hear her. I heard her perfectly. Louder than everyone else who virtually shouted their order to me.
Smiling tightly at the waiter, who’s paused scribbling on his pad, looking at me, I turn to my wife. ‘You’re not having it.’ My tone is a warning, and she would do well to take notice. As I slowly swivel back towards the waiter, I catch the faces of our friends. All of them are silent. Watching. Nervous. ‘Water,’ I reiterate, taking my napkin and laying it across my lap. Silence. Eyes dodging me and Ava. Awkward vibes. I start chewing my lip, peeking out of the corner of my eye. The look of pure disgust on my wife’s face actually makes me wince. Shit, she looks livid.
‘You’d better order me some wine, Ward.’ She comes close, eyes full of fire, making me slowly lean back. I hear Sam cough through a laugh, and Drew snorts. Wankers. They should be backing me up. She just came out the other side of a horrific car incident. She’s not at full health. Drinking alcohol would be daft, and it would be highly irresponsible for me to let her. ‘Now,’ she adds on a growl that rivals mine.
‘It’s not safe,’ I argue quietly. ‘The last thing you need is alcohol fuzzing your already pickled mind.’
‘Pickled?’ She coughs over my lame choice of word. ‘My mind isn’t pickled, Jesse. Order me some wine, or so help me God . . .’
‘So help you God what?’
‘I . . . I don’t know.’ She stutters over a few more words before clearly finding the one she’s looking for. ‘Divorce,’ she spits scathingly. The whole table gasps, me the loudest, and Ava shoots our friends a surprised look. ‘What?’
Kate shakes her head mildly, warningly, and Sam blows out his cheeks. ‘Red flag. Bull on the loose. That’s all I’m saying.’ He disappears into his glass, while I fight to maintain my temper before it sends me off around the restaurant in a whirlwind. Divorce? That damn fucking word is banned from our lives.
‘Well.’ Ava shrugs, nonchalant, though I can sense her buried wariness. ‘I only want a glass of wine.’
I can feel the pressure in my head building, my body rolling where I sit.
‘Oh, here we go,’ Drew says quietly, taking his glass, as if it could protect him from the imminent explosion.
I bolt forward in my chair. ‘Take that back,’ I demand.
She flies forward, too, matching my threat, the defiant thing that she is. ‘Order me wine.’
‘No.’
She quickly has hold of my jaw, squeezing hard. ‘Do it.’
A staring deadlock that would put all others that have come before to shame holds us in our positions for what seems like for ever. I’m mad, so fucking mad, but deep inside, past that madness, is happiness. She’s always known when to let me win, and now isn’t one of those times. She’s finding her feet. Getting to know us. It takes a lot. A fucking lot, but . . . ‘Fine. You can have one glass,�
�� I relent, thinking she’s on to a good one and she’d better appreciate it.
‘We’ll see.’
‘We will,’ I agree, prising her fingers from my jaw, maintaining my glare.
‘Are you done?’ Kate sighs, accepting the bottle of white when the waiter approaches, making quick work of pouring for Raya, and then Ava before I change my mind. She doesn’t miss my eye on the side of Ava’s glass, watching the level. ‘Though I have to say,’ Kate goes on, nodding at Ava to seize the goods before it’s swiped away by the madman sitting next to her, ‘it’s kind of nice to see you’re still you.’ Toasting us across the table, she sips her water.
‘So when’s the wedding?’ Ava asks Raya, pulling the table back to some light chit-chat. My glare hardens when she takes her glass and peeks at me on a hidden grin as she takes her first sip. She’ll pay for that.
I put myself into the conversation, but my attention is never far from Ava’s wine glass. It’s been weeks since she had a drink, and we need to be careful of any reaction with the meds she’s on. A few sips will be like a few bottles.
‘Excuse me,’ Ava announces as she stands. ‘I need the ladies.’
I sit up straight, contemplating escorting her as she leaves us. Is that a limp? Or is it a drunken wobble? I don’t know, and I need to be sure. Either way, she could do with my help. I make to stand.
‘Jesse,’ Kate calls across the table. ‘Leave her.’
‘But—’
‘Leave. Her.’ Her order is almost a warning. Like I’d ever take any notice. Except this time I do. I don’t know why, but I do. My eyes pass from the table to Ava’s back a few times as she gets further and further away from me. I’m so torn.
‘I’d listen,’ Sam says, pointing to his girlfriend’s pregnant belly with his beer. ‘Honestly, man. I’d listen.’
‘What if she stumbles?’ I say to Kate, a clear vivid flashback of her delicate head coming into my mind. There’s blood. Lots of blood. I wince.
‘She’s had one glass of wine. Now, sit.’
‘Come on, Jesse.’ Drew joins in the persuasion party. ‘Know your limits, mate.’
With This Man Page 20
