The next morning, I’m all set. I’ve called Dr Peters to ensure I’m not pushing her too far, and he reassured me that my plan to revisit some of our past is a good idea. Just to take it easy with her, which was a stupid fucking thing to say. We also chatted briefly about all these small hints of memories, all the words, and he seemed thrilled by that. All in all, I’m feeling pretty good.
I know where we’re going, what we’re doing, and I’m really looking forward to it. That kiss last night. It was just a kiss, but it was earth-moving. I felt like she was breathing hope into me. It made sleeping alone again that little bit more bearable.
‘What are you looking at?’ I ask as Ava performs a full assessment of me in the hallway, her eyes roaming up and down my tall frame.
‘You just don’t seem the type to wear leather trousers.’ She’s thinking so hard she’s frowning. ‘Then again, you didn’t seem the type to own a sex club, either.’ Looking up at me, she shrugs a little. ‘I guess they go hand in hand.’
Laughter so rich and loud spills out of me. ‘It isn’t what you think,’ I assure her, chuckling as I produce another set of leather trousers. ‘These are yours.’
‘Oh God, next you’ll be pulling out a whip.’
I recoil, my arm dropping limply to my side. ‘There’s no whip.’
‘Oh shit.’ Her mouth snaps shut, her disposition quickly awkward. ‘I’m guessing whips are a no-go zone for us.’
‘It’s not the most thrilling part of our history.’ I hand her the trousers, and she takes them, if a little cautiously, not because she’s still wondering what we’re doing and why she’ll be wearing them, but because her mind is whirling about that horrid time.
‘You told me that I punished you, too,’ she says, looking at the leather in her grasp. ‘You punished yourself by being whipped. So how did I punish you?’
I flinch, the cracking of leather across her back echoing through my skull like the perfect kind of torture. Though her reasoning at the time eventually made sense to me, it didn’t make it any easier to accept. Anger sizzles, threatening to surface as I eye her with caution and collect my keys and shades. ‘I’d rather not revisit one of the most horrific moments in my life.’ My answer only seems to enhance her curiosity, and in true Ava style she pushes on.
‘Something tells me that I didn’t dump your arse for a few days. Or give you the silent treatment. So how did I punish you?’
‘It’s not important.’ I make my way to the door, eager to end this conversation. I’m a fool. Evading questions and distracting Ava in the early days of our relationship was what got me in such a mess in the first place. Haven’t I learned?
‘Your body language disagrees,’ she calls, pulling me to a stop at the door. ‘Tell me.’
Tell her. Will she believe it? I didn’t at the time, and I saw first-hand the nightmare unfolding before me. That bastard lashing her, her body hanging limply. I swallow and turn to face her, as well as facing up to my responsibility. ‘You weren’t punishing me for sleeping with someone else.’
She flinches at the reminder, and though the vision hurts, something sick inside me appreciates her reaction. Because it’s another sign that she cares. The thought of me with another woman pains her. Even now, when she doesn’t know me. ‘Then what was I punishing you for?’
‘Having my guilt thrashed out of me. For hurting myself.’
Another flinch. It’s a minor reaction in contrast to the horror scene that played out in The Manor that awful day, but it still pricks at my skin relentlessly. Her jaw stiffens, her eyes becoming fierce. It’s familiar, if unwelcome right now. ‘Tell me.’
I match her stoic expression and spill. ‘You had yourself whipped, too.’ Her mouth falls open. ‘You let some scumbag shackle you half-naked and you let him whip you. Happy?’
‘Do I fucking look happy?’ she spits, throwing the trousers to the floor. ‘Why the hell would I do that?’
‘Because,’ I say, unable to rein myself in, the anger that’s lain dormant within me all these years racing to the surface unstoppably. I get my threatening face close to hers. She doesn’t budge an inch, squaring up to me in return. My defiant little temptress. My angel. My Ava. Here she fucking is. ‘Because you wanted me to understand how much you loved me. Because you wanted me to feel how you felt when you found me being thrashed.’ My nostrils flare as she stares me down, our noses nearly touching, my body bent a little to make sure of it. ‘And it fucking worked.’
Her jaw, so tight, is ticking wildly. She’s mad. Whether she’s mad because she knows deep inside that she really did do that, or if she’s mad because she can’t remember, isn’t a question I’m bothered about in this moment. Because beyond the anger, I see a familiar, potent craving. I see that mixture of fury and desire. The need to rip a strip off me and rip my clothes off.
When we’re angry with each other, the sex is even more passionate, crazy and satisfying. It’s all here before me now, yet I cannot be the one to make the first move. I can’t push this. For the first time in our relationship, I’m depending on her to give me what I want, and, more importantly, what I need more than anything in the world. Our connection. Our chemistry.
‘Kiss me,’ I demand. ‘Now.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Watch your fucking mouth!’ I bark, a secret smile hiding behind my straight face.
She doesn’t try to hide hers. ‘Screw you.’
‘Three,’ I say lowly.
‘Zero, baby.’ She lunges forward, smashing her lips to mine, her arms virtually strangling me as she climbs up my body. I stagger back, fucking chaos breaking out in my leather trousers – heat, blood and solid flesh raging down there. She’s unforgiving in her demand for my mouth. Harsh stabs of her tongue against mine, vicious tugs of my hair, deep, throaty groans of pleasure.
My back hits the door frame, jolting her in my arms, not that it distracts her from her mission. I can do nothing more than keep up with her pace, silently demanding her to start ridding us of clothes so I can lose myself in her. Find the peace I need. Relish the joining of our bodies.
Her hot, wet tongue circles my mouth, our heads tilting and turning constantly, taking other angles, pulling back, smashing together once again. It’s madness. Disorderly. Absolutely incredible.
And then as quickly as it started, it stops. Like she could have been hit with a thousand volts of electricity, she catapults back, forcing me to release her before she dives clean out of my arms. ‘Oh my God,’ she sputters, brushing herself down, hands faffing everywhere, eyes avoiding mine. That kiss has wiped me of breath. I’m panting like I’m exhausted. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
‘Well it wasn’t me,’ I mutter to myself, forcing back the mental image of me doing exactly that. Coming all over her. Kneeling over her, her arms pinned down, my hand thrusting my cock in her face as she watches. My cum coating her lovely face. And her tongue licking it all up. Fuck! I physically rearrange myself, looking for room in my trousers to accommodate my raging hard-on. There’s no room. Not in these damn things.
‘Something got the better of me.’ She looks up at me. And I can see immediately that she gets it. Even if she doesn’t know me, she gets it. The ridiculously strong attraction was the first stepping-stone to utter fucking perfection. And thank God she’s not misplaced that.
‘Yes, I got the better of you,’ I say, peeling my back away from the door frame. Ava darts surprised eyes at me. ‘Now, are you finished unravelling your knickers, lady?’ I take her hand, scoop the trousers from the floor, and lead her out to the garages.
Pressing the button on the remote, I hold back while the door rolls open. ‘Bloody hell, Jesse!’ She drops my hand and moves into the garage, motioning to the lines of cars and superbikes. ‘Are these all yours?’
Making my way over to the cabinet, I pull our helmets down from one of the shelves. ‘All ours.’
‘These must be worth hundreds of thousands.’
‘Which is why the garage is alarmed and the cars all have trackers.’
‘Trackers?’ Her head tilts, somewhere between interest and worry. ‘Did you have a tracker on my car?’
‘Of course.’ I don’t beat around the bush. ‘A nice little app on my phone told me where you were at all times.’ I laugh when she snorts, disgusted. ‘Don’t worry. You had the app too.’
‘I did?’
‘Yes, you worry about me as much as I worry about you.’ I hold up the helmets.
‘What are those for?’
‘We’re going swimming,’ I quip drily, pointing to her hands. ‘And those are your trunks.’
Ava glances down at the leather trousers in her grasp, comprehension coming to her. She inhales quickly and swings towards my superbike, definitely thrilled by the prospect. ‘I’m going on that thing?’
I’m laughing again. ‘That’s a little different from what you said the first time I took you for a ride.’
‘A ride?’ Her eyebrow cocks with interest, extending my laughter. There’s that suggestiveness in her again.
I approach her slowly, a little ominously, and dip, bringing our faces close. ‘You love riding the bike, but you love riding me even more.’
Red creeps into her cheeks. It’s such a satisfying sight, again taking me back to the early days when she was trying to hide how much she was floored by me. She tries to rectify her fluster. ‘I would challenge that, if I didn’t know it to be true.’
‘Oh?’ Interesting. ‘And how do you know?’ She immediately starts to shift on the spot, and I grin, glancing down at her chest. Nipples like bullets. And I bet her knickers aren’t too dry, either. All the signs thrill me. ‘Get your trousers on.’
She smiles, steps back, and does as she’s bid, and that’s highly satisfying, too. All these natural instincts in her. It’s hope. ‘Do I ride on my own?’ she asks.
I scoff. ‘Never. Only ever with me.’
‘Why?’ She’s genuinely interested.
‘Bikes are dangerous machines.’
‘So are cars,’ she counters quietly as she pulls her trousers up her legs. I still and flick her a glance. I can’t help but think that had I enforced my demand to have her in a Range Rover, we wouldn’t be in this nightmare right now. Judging by the state of her Mini, I’m surprised she’s even alive. My veins instantly freeze on that thought. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’ I demand my mind to steer away from such sickening thoughts. I have her. She’s here.
Once we’re both covered in leather, I place her helmet over her head gently, smiling a smidgen while I fasten her chinstrap. ‘I have déjà vu,’ she mumbles through her squished cheeks. ‘That’s got to be a good thing, right?’
‘I’m sure it is,’ I assure her, wriggling her helmet as gently as I can to check it’s secure. ‘You look fucking hot.’
‘I know.’ She flexes her head from side to side. ‘And it’s good to see you’re wearing leathers, too.’ She freezes, as do I, both of us staring at each other. ‘Why did I say that?’ She suddenly looks puzzled, and my hope dies, but only a little, because the doctor said he’s pleased. All these little things here and there. There has to be a pinnacle moment that will bring it all rushing back. Something that will open the floodgates.
I go ahead and try to explain. ‘When we first met, I never wore leathers.’ Her eyes drop to my stomach. I know what she’s thinking. She’s thinking about the scars on my abdomen. She’s thinking I must have sustained those injuries in an accident, and I don’t put her straight. ‘You weren’t happy about it,’ I finish gently, sweeping my arm out towards the bike in indication for her to hop on board.
She heads for the bike without thought or question. ‘I’m not surprised. You’re not—’
‘Indestructible, I know.’
She stops for a beat, slowly looking over her shoulder and down to my stomach again. ‘This is so weird.’
I laugh sarcastically. ‘Just a bit.’ Joining her, I throw my leg over the bike and settle in the seat. ‘Put your foot on . . .’ My instruction fades off when I feel her front squished up behind me in the seat, her arms circling my midriff. ‘Okay, then.’
‘I feel like I should be, but I’m not even scared,’ she declares, snuggling closer. ‘Where are we going?’
Looking down at her hands linked over my stomach, feeling her head resting on my back, her body pushed tight to mine, brings me a little peace. Whether she knows it or not, she trusts me. I pull my helmet on and start up my Ducati 1299 Superleggera, giving it a few exhilarating revs. The roar is only amplified in the enclosed garage, and Ava’s hold of me constricts. Had I not spoken to the doctor, this definitely wouldn’t be happening. But she’s comfortable. So comfortable. Besides, like I would let anything happen to her.
I kick up the stand and roll us out of the garage, taking it steadily to the main road. I ignore her demand for me to speed up. This ride will be slow and careful. Not something I’m really familiar with, but fast getting used to. Because I have to.