by J. J. Sorel
Soaking in the late afternoon sun, I watched beams of light shimmering off delicate green foliage. Wind rustling through the branches whispered hope in that same way a wise, gentle-voiced friend would.
Bronson’s face kept appearing before me. Awake or asleep, I summoned up his crushing love and unwavering desire, to have, hold, and possess me.
The possessive part was intimidating.
As much as I’d grown seriously fond of if not addicted to his strong, virile body, I also needed to be with a partner that I could realize my full potential with. Equality and independence were musts. I could never be that little wife in the suburbs.
Would Bronson enable me to be that?
He was definitely driven. My heart melted at that image of Bronson on the couch, barefoot and shirtless, in deep concentration with pencil in hand, drawing and tilting his head from side to side while assessing his work.
The fact that Bronson hadn’t called me for a few days weighed heavily on me. I’d grown needy for those messages in which he’d pause between words with nothing but a breath for me to listen to.
How would I live without him? He’d become a part of me.
As I crossed into the avenue that housed our tree, I saw a familiar figure ahead. Sitting on the bench, Bronson had his arm stretched along the back of the seat. His head was half-cocked as he stared at the tree.
Even from afar, Bronson radiated charisma. His legs were slightly splayed with that devil-may-care body language that made my lips curl.
I had just hidden behind a tree to help steady my heartbeat when a pretty girl stepped before him.
What did she want? I asked myself. Was she a date? The fact Bronson hadn’t moved a muscle suggested disinterest on his part. That helped me relax.
She persisted, though. I couldn’t blame her. Hot and seriously sexy, in a worn T-shirt that showed off those big tattooed biceps and with that tousled dark hair, Bronson had “bad boy” written all over him. He was the type of hunk that women dropped their panties for even before a “hello” had left their lips.
As she sat down, Bronson moved along to make room for her. A sinking feeling overtook me. She turned to face him square on and then moved her hands about as if expressing something that needed saying. And she kept at it. The pretty blonde girl seemed to talk endlessly.
Observing Bronson’s disinterest, I suddenly found myself admiring him for being haughty.
There was only one thing to do.
With a deliberate stride, I headed toward him. That was after I undid a couple of buttons to reveal some cleavage, untied my ponytail and fluffed out my hair.
After I’d taken only a few strides toward him, Bronson must have sensed my approach, because he looked up, and the bored expression in his eyes faded away.
Meanwhile, turning to see who had taken her conquest’s attention, the girl looked me up and down with cold disregard.
“Excuse me,” Bronson said to the girl, who continued to yammer despite his obvious disinterest.
He rose and came to me. “Ava.” His lips twitched into a half smile.
“You’ve got company, I see,” I said, keeping it cool, even though I was anything but. My heart was in my throat, blocking speech. My timidity seemed ridiculous, considering I’d lain with him upside down with my legs in the air, taking every delicious inch in deep.
The longer I studied his face, the more I noticed what a wreck he was. Who would have thought dark rings under one’s eyes could make one still look sexy as hell? He was dressed in his favorite pair of worn, ripped jeans that he’d owned for years and not paid a month’s salary for.
“I don’t know her,” he said, quietly.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed her slink off.
He ran his hands through his hair, which ended up in a mess of waves that always managed to sit in all the right places.
As Bronson’s gaze burned into me, his serious expression eased into a tender smile. “I wanted to call you so many times.”
I lowered myself onto the bench and placed a little distance between us. Bronson moved closer to me, which tipped me over the libidinous edge, especially when a gentle breeze wafted his blend of cologne and maleness up my nose.
Almost banging heads, we both turned at the same time. He said “Ava,” over my “Bronson.”
I giggled nervously, and he sniffed.
His gaze burned into me. “I’ve missed you so much it fucking hurts. I didn’t even want to get out of bed.”
“I haven’t changed the sheets,” I added, softly.
The way his brow puckered as he studied me made me ask, “What?”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” he said with a cheeky grin.
“What do you mean?” I thought about it and realized he was poking fun at my untidiness. “I’m into doing my laundry if that’s what you’re referring to.” I hit his big arm. And he smiled.
“What brings you here, Bronson? Are you waiting for pretty girls to hit on you?”
He turned sharply to look at me. “Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think I’m that fucking shallow?”
Ouch. That was like a slap. His eyes had gone so dark I fell in again. Taking a moment to rise to the surface, I replied, “I’m sorry. I was just kidding.”
His eyes softened. “I’m sorry for the overreaction. I’ve had a shit time. My project’s floundering because I can’t even face people.”
I played with my fingers. “I haven’t been in a good place, either.”
“What do you mean?” He tilted his head slightly.
“Just that, I suppose.” I shrugged. “I’m glad that you didn’t press charges against Justin.”
“I did it for my mother. If it were up to me, I would have gone out of my way to have his ugly ass locked away.” He paused to gauge my reaction, but I remained blank. “He won’t come near you again. Apparently, he’s moved to LA. That should suit him. The land of endless cocaine parties and plenty of stray pussy.”
I rolled my eyes with a mocking grin.
He shook his head. “What?”
“I was just thinking how coarse you are.”
“It’s who I am,” he said, raking through his hair. “Do you want me to change? I will. If it means you’ll come back to me.” A glint of vulnerability reflected off his gaze.
“I don’t need you to change. If anything, I kind of find your rawness hard to resist. Pure animal charm, I’d call it.”
He stroked a strand of hair that had fallen over my arm. “And you look so beautiful. You resemble an angel.”
“That’s unsexy,” I said.
His eyes landed on my cleavage, and for some reason mine landed on his crotch, where a bulge grew before my eyes, setting off a pleasant pulse between my legs.
“My God, Ava, if only you knew how damn sexy you are. I can’t even look at other women. That girl, for instance, was a weed compared to you, a beautiful rose.”
How could I not smile at that? Bronson’s eyes wandered over my face and body and back, leaving a trail of heat as I moistened my lips unconsciously.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen or known for that matter. From the moment I saw you.” He stroked my cheek.
I swallowed. What was I to do? My body was a fireball of need. My heart took over as my overactive mind retreated.
I rested my head on his shoulder as he continued to stroke my hair.
“You’re a part of me, Ava. That tree there knows it.”
I sat up. “Ha? You’re sounding surreal, like this whole crazy story of us and Aggie.”
He sniffed. “It’s kind of magical, isn’t it?”
I nodded. Bronson was right. Life was there for surprises and miracles, which pretty much summed up our relationship.
He rose. “Come on. Let me buy you some dinner.”
“All right, then,” I said, as a smile grew and remained there for the first time in weeks.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
BRONSON
“Ava,
can you do me a favor and do up a couple of your buttons?” We were sitting at a busy café. Discovering that my appetite had returned with a vengeance, I salivated as a sizzling steak was lowered in front of me.
“Why?” she asked with that sweet smile of hers that made me want to devour her lips.
“Because I’m about to break that guy’s arm if he keeps greasy eyeballing you.”
She looked over my shoulder and giggled. “You really are an alpha male.”
“How else am I going to protect what’s mine?”
“Is that what I am to you? A possession?”
I studied Ava for a moment. “You possess me.”
She stared at me as if trying to find more in my words. “After that pretty girl tried to hit on you, I wanted to show you what you’d been missing out on.”
“Oh, God, Ava. Trust me. I don’t need to see your spectacular tits to be reminded of how hot you are. Only that I’d prefer it to be for my eyes only.”
She did up her buttons. “There.”
I nodded. “Better. Now I can concentrate on my steak.”
“Is that all you wish to devour tonight?” she asked with a sweet grin.
“Trust me, Ava, my appetite at the moment is so damn huge that I’ve got the whole night and morning to fill.” I emphasized “fill” and raised an eyebrow.
After I paid the waiter, I took Ava by the hand, and we walked back onto the main drag to hail a cab.
One arrived straight away, and I opened the door for Ava to climb in first.
It wasn’t until we hit the Williamsburg Bridge that I drew her in close and, unable to hold back any longer, my lips landed on her soft, moist mouth. My chest released as her flavor filled me with the promise of something that was both sweet and dirty. If we hadn’t been in a cab, I would have entered her there and then. My hand managed to sneak into her wet panties as she sighed deeply into my mouth.
Ava pulled away. “Not here, Bronson.”
When we arrived at my place, I paid the driver and virtually carried Ava in my arms. Leaning against the wall of the elevator—which was full, much to my disappointment—I managed to squeeze Ava’s curvy butt, making her giggle. A content sigh left my lungs. All the pain and emptiness of the past two weeks vanished from the moment Ava’s pretty blue eyes smiled at me.
After arriving on my floor, we barely made it through the door as we fell onto the couch and held each other close. Our lips fused and our tongues tangled, expressing the same hungry need to devour.
The following afternoon, Ava and I rode the elevator to Aggie’s apartment. We’d received a message earlier that day calling us in, which surprised Ava given that Aggie had never sent her a message before. She wasn’t even sure if Aggie owned a cell phone.
“I have the strangest feeling about this,” said Ava as she leaned against the wall of the elevator.
Under the soft light with her thick, chestnut hair waving around her beautiful alabaster skin, I didn’t have a care in the world. For the first time in my life, I found it hard not to smile.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
“Because every time I look at you, your beauty grows, and I want to ravage you again.”
“Bronson, I’m sore down there.”
“Your pussy, you mean? Say it.”
“My pussy is sore,” she repeated with a shy lilt that made my cock stiffen.
I drew her in close and devoured her soft lips.
“After that break, my appetite is off the charts.”
“Mine too,” she said, and her large eyes had that twinkle of mischief that made me hard again.
“The scratches all over my shoulders and arms are back. I like them there. You’re very responsive, angel.”
“That’s because you feel amazing. And I’m in love with your tongue.”
“Only my tongue?” I said.
“And this.” She grabbed my cock, making it throb again.
“Maybe we should stop the lift,” I said.
She giggled. “You’re a sex maniac.”
“Only for you, Ava.”
Falling into my arms, Ava stood on her toes, and our lips fused.
The elevator reached Aggie’s floor, and we untangled ourselves. I let her exit first and had a feel of her ass in the process, which returned a sweet peal of laughter from Ava.
Although I felt lighter now that Ava had forgiven me, that violent episode with Justin reminded me how close that dark side lurked. If Ava hadn’t stepped in, I might actually have killed him. The thought that made me break into a cold sweat.
After spending one year in prison, I’d become jumpy, especially if someone shadowed me. In the earlier days, after my release, I’d even believed I was being followed. The few visits to the shrink hadn’t helped. There were too many questions about feelings. I’d never been great at talking about that deeper side of me. I didn’t understand it. So how the hell was I meant to articulate that to a stranger?
With Ava by my side, all of a sudden, things became clearer, and the tension that I’d carried all my life dissolved. Only the important things mattered, like having a plan, getting ahead in life, and marrying Ava.
I’d become stronger because of Ava.
The door opened, and a seventyish man with a paunch asked us to enter.
“Charlie!” exclaimed Ava.
“No. I’m David. He was my twin.”
She looked disappointed for some reason. “Oh… Aggie mentioned he passed away. I used to like chatting to him on the elevator.”
As we followed David into the pink living room, he said, “Charlie loved wearing his uniform. He lived in the past and was convinced that the ghosts of residents still rode the elevator. We’d humor him. Charlie was a little different.” He raised his eyebrows as if letting us in on a secret.
“Is the whole building vacant?” I asked. “We never see anyone.”
“Aggie purchased the building following Ashley’s death and decided to keep it unoccupied. She was a very private woman in many ways.”
“Was?” asked Ava.
He stretched out his arm. “Please, take a seat.” He lowered himself into a pink, embossed silk armchair. “I’m afraid Aggie passed away a few days ago.”
A line formed between Ava’s brows. “What? But she seemed so happy when I last saw her.”
“She passed away in her sleep, peacefully,” he said in a gentle tone.
“But there are still so many questions…”
David handed her a letter. “Here. Hopefully, that will help you understand.” He nodded with a reassuring smile. “I’m Aggie’s attorney. I have some legal matters to discuss.”
He picked up a folder sitting on the table at his side and turned to face me for the first time. The flicker of surprise in his eyes when he looked at me sent a shiver through me.
“One of the reasons Aggie went out of her way to find you, Bronson, was so that she’d have an heir.” He pointed to the walls. “Along with this building, Aggie left you properties in the Hamptons and a substantial share portfolio. All told, you’re now a very wealthy man.”
Before I could respond. He continued, “Ava, Aggie wanted you to have her entire wardrobe of designer dresses, artwork, many of which are originals, and a monthly stipend of ten thousand dollars for the rest of your life.”
Ava stared at me, looking stunned, which summed up how I felt too.
“There is a caveat, however.” David held up a finger. Noticing my eyebrows move, he clarified, “A condition.”
“I know what caveat means,” I replied, sitting forward. “Please, go on.”
“All of Aggie’s estate becomes yours when you marry. And only…” He paused.
“And only?” I asked, casting a sideways glance at Ava, whose mouth had remained open.
“Only if you marry Ava Rose.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
AVA
I studied Bronson’s face for signs of dread or misgiving. Instead, I encountered a smile tha
t grew at the side of his lips. Whereas for me, rebellious at heart, my initial response was to protest at being dictated to. But as I opened my mouth, nothing exited. It was Bronson, I told myself, not some detestable male who I couldn’t even relate to, let alone have sex with. I wasn’t having a hairy old man foisted upon me for his family spoils. Or having my virginity offered on a platter to an obese distant relative in order to empower a dynasty.
It was Bronson.
Could I spend my life with Bronson? I asked myself as I battled a maelstrom of inner voices.
“Why the games?” I asked.
“That letter will probably explain that to you,” David replied.
“What about the heart in the jar?” I asked.
“Yes… Aggie mentioned you’d learned of its presence. That was placed in her hands before she was cremated.”
“How could you manage that without questions?” I asked.
“Aggie was very rich, therefore able to manage anything she liked, including that.”
“Has there been a funeral? Can we attend?” I asked.
“I scattered her ashes in the Hudson yesterday. Aggie’s instructions were to keep it private. She never liked attending funerals and therefore hated the idea of anyone attending her own.”
A deep feeling of loss and sorrow hit me all of a sudden. Putting aside Aggie’s acerbic tongue and saucy intrusiveness, not to mention this devious plan she’d cooked up to ensure Bronson married someone she approved of, I’d found Aggie kind, sharp-witted, and fascinating. People like Aggie were rare. She was like a flawed jewel from that bygone era when everyone’s scrawled secrets remained tucked away in journals and not spilled all over social media.
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
Sympathy coated David’s eyes. “Aggie was very fond of you, Ava. At first, it was a game. Just as you’ve said. It was Aggie’s way of getting back at Justin Lockhart for setting you up, Bronson.” He returned his attention to me. “But as she got to know you, Ava, and then discovered that you’d become romantically involved with Bronson, Aggie’s spirit lifted. It was no longer revenge that she sought but to see you both together.”
