The car park is jam-packed. I spot Drew’s car in one of the reserved bays and pull up next to it, quickly making my way around the car to help Ava out. She’s quiet as I walk her to the modern building. It couldn’t look more different from The Manor. The club is still luxurious, but nowhere near as ostentatious. The reception area is buzzing when we enter.
‘Is that a salon?’ Ava asks, pointing to one of the four shop fronts on the ground floor. ‘And a beauty parlour?’
‘Yes, and Raya operates from that one there.’
‘What does she do?’ Ava lets me take her hand, seeming a bit overwhelmed by the place already.
‘Sports therapy.’ I nod to one of the girls on reception who quickly lets us through the turnstiles. ‘And that one over there is a health food store.’
‘It’s like health heaven,’ she says, smiling awkwardly when the girls on reception all wave hello. ‘And I work here?’
‘You sound disappointed.’ When we arrive at the juice bar, I spot Drew through the glass window that overlooks the pool area. He’s at the top of the diving board giving Georgia instructions.
‘Well, I’ve always dreamed of owning my own design company,’ Ava says.
‘You gave up work to have the twins.’ It was way before the twins came, but how Ava came to leave her employment at Rococo Union isn’t something I’m going into. I often wonder whether that prick Mikael still owns it, or if he sold it off as soon as my wife quit. ‘When the kids started school full-time, you decided you wanted to have an input here.’
A doubtful look lands on me. ‘I decided, or you made me?’
‘You decided,’ I confirm, and order her favourite power shake. ‘In your words, I’m crap at organising financial stuff and you weren’t about to let someone else do it.’
‘So you pay me?’ She accepts the shake, eyeing it suspiciously.
‘Handsomely,’ I reply, my voice suggestive and low.
She tosses me a playful filthy look. ‘Very funny.’
‘You’re a director, Ava. Like I said, we own it.’
I can tell she’s happy about that, her lovely lips taking the straw and sipping thoughtfully as she gazes around the bar, where laptops clutter tables and people chat post-workout. ‘Hmmm, this is lush.’
‘Glad your taste hasn’t changed,’ I say, motioning her to the stairs that lead to the gym floor.
Her face is suddenly bright and chirpy as she flanks me, her lips stuck to the straw. ‘That would have been a bit of a shock for you, wouldn’t it?’
‘What would?’
‘Well, if I came around and didn’t fancy you.’ She titters as we take the stairs, amused.
‘So you fancy me?’ I say, sounding casual and unaffected.
‘You’re all right, I suppose.’
The nerve. I nudge her and she chuckles, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs when the gym floor comes into view. ‘Wow.’ Turning slowly on the spot, she takes in the vast space. It could take her a while. A Bodypump class is happening on the grid across the way, a team of serious weight trainers are lifting in the corner, a group of women are speed cycling at the far back. And then the glass-fronted studios are all full, one class or another happening in each. All the endorphins bouncing around the place are sinking into my skin, and I wish I could hit the treadmill. Exercise has always been a blessing to me, a perfect way to alleviate stress. And now, when I’m the most stressed I’ve ever been, I haven’t had the opportunity to expel it.
Many people pass us, clients and staff, all saying hello, smiling, clearly pleased to see us. But Ava doesn’t recognise any of them. She just smiles awkwardly, becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the second.
‘I’m here every day?’ she asks, her tone not cluing me in on whether that pleases her or daunts her. I’m hoping it pleases her, and then maybe she’ll lose that silly idea of working elsewhere.
‘Yes, with me.’
She seizes my hand without prompt, clinging to it harshly. ‘It’s very loud.’
Shit, she’s right. It’s banging, nothing unusual, but Ava’s head is delicate. I pull her on, keen to get us away from the pumping gym floor to somewhere quieter. ‘Here.’ Opening the door to her office, I usher her in and shut out the noise. That’s better. She probably couldn’t hear herself think.
She wanders in quietly, taking in the space that she frequents daily, my eager eyes looking for some recognition on her face. She finds the picture frame on the desk and lifts it, smiling down at the photograph of us all. It’s just another piece of evidence that this is real, that she’s not about to wake up at any moment and discover she’s been trapped in a dream. ‘Your office is very nice,’ she says, setting the frame down.
My office? ‘This isn’t my office, Ava,’ I say, taking my usual spot on the couch by the window. ‘This is your office.’
Her eyes widen a fraction, going on another little journey around the space. ‘Mine?’ she questions, obviously thrown.
Reclining, I smile at her wonder. ‘Yours.’
I watch as she pulls her chair out from her desk and sits down, tugging open a few drawers. She takes something out and flashes it to me on a grin. Setting the red nail polish on the top, she sits back, and I smile, thinking she looks as sexy as ever when she’s behind that desk. ‘I feel very important.’
‘You are.’ I kick my ankle up onto my knee and rest my elbow on the back of the couch.
‘So where’s your office?’
‘I’m sitting on it.’
Her smile is given through a frown. ‘You work from that couch?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what work do you do from there?’ She kicks her feet up onto the desk, while I kick mine up onto the couch, lying back, arms behind my head, all comfy. I wish she could see what I see when I’m in here. I see us on every available surface. Me between her legs. God, how many times have I taken her on that desk?
‘The only work I get done while I’m in here is admiring my wife. It’s a very important part of my day.’
‘Slacking on the job? The boss isn’t setting a very good example.’
I’m thoroughly amused by her words. ‘Ava, everyone around here knows that it is you who’s boss. Not me.’
‘That’s absurd.’ She picks up a pen and starts to fiddle with it, weaving it through her fingers in feigned concentration. ‘You’re a control freak. I can’t image you let me take the reins in your fancy health club.’
‘I’m only a control freak when it comes to you. And it’s our health club.’
She nods, thoughtful, gazing around. ‘So while I’m slaving away, you just lie there looking pretty, do you?’
I lift my head a little, eyebrows high. ‘You think I look pretty?’ I’m playing it all cool, but inside I want to jump up and rock out to a bit of JT. She’s being rather open with her attraction today. Almost blatant. Almost suggestive.
It’s no wonder she has a headache: her eye-rolls are constant and impressive. ‘How do I concentrate with you loitering around?’ She goes into another drawer and pulls out a few files, frowning at them. Then a calculator that she sets to the side. And, finally, a nail file. She looks delighted with her find as she takes it to her nails.
‘I leave you to work.’ Fuck, what was I thinking bringing us in here? All my intentions to make her take it easy are forgotten. Lost. She’s sitting there in her pretty little sundress and flip-flops, her hair a mess of loose waves, her face make-up-free, and she looks fucking edible. And that desk is calling. I throw my legs off the couch, get up, and stride towards her.
The side-to-side motion of the file slows as I near, her eyes lifting up my tall frame to my face. ‘You’re not lying down now.’ She points the file at me, as if I might have missed the fact that I’ve got myself to my feet. ‘Does that mean you’re going to do some work?’
‘Oh, yes.’ I sit on the edge of her desk, my gaze never wavering from hers. ‘I’m going to do some work all right.’
Breath hitching. Body subtly fidgeting. Eyes filing with hunger. Nipples hardening against the material of her dress. My eyes drop to her crotch, my head tilting. She’s wet, too. I can smell it from here.
‘Behave,’ she all but squeaks, going back to filing her nails, doing a terrible job of feigning coolness.
She’s on fire. I can practically see the flames on her skin. And all of these reactions have the usual effect on me. She has her usual effect on me. This woman makes my veins burn. Makes my eyes sting just looking at her. Makes my heart surge with adoration.
‘See, that’s always been a problem for me, Ava.’ I place the tip of my finger on the shiny wood of her desk and drag it lazily across the surface. ‘I’ve never been able to behave when it comes to you.’
‘Wherever, whenever,’ she murmurs, lust spilling over every word. ‘We’ve had sex in this office, haven’t we?’
‘The couch, the floor, the desk, against the door.’ I take her feet from the desk and use them to pull her closer on her rolling chair, smiling when she sticks herself to the back. Plucking the file from between her limp fingers, I flick it across her desk and lower her feet to the floor, straddling her lap and placing a palm on either side of her head. ‘I have many fond memories in this office, baby. I wish you had them, too.’ I dip, touching her nose with mine, loving the feel of her breathy pants hitting my face. ‘But I’m going to love making more.’ I place my hand between her thighs, going in for the kill. I’m too wound up to resist. Last night has only made me hungrier for her. And besides, I know my wife well enough to know when she wants it, and she wants it now. ‘Spread them.’
Her legs split open immediately, and before I have the chance to kiss her, she’s kissing me. I’m attacked with brutal force, her body up out of the chair faster than is wise, yet I’m in no position to stop her. I sit her on the desk, putting myself between her thighs. While her mouth devours mine, her frantic hands work the button of my fly, yanking impatiently, small growls backing up her frustrated, fumbling fingers. I smile around our kiss, my grip of her hair gentle, contradicting her force. I rip my lips away from her, finding her eyes. She looks drunk.
I draw back and pull up my T-shirt over my head. ‘Who has the power, baby?’
‘You,’ she murmurs, reaching for the waist of my jeans and tugging me forward. Her hand soon finds my cock, pulling it free and squeezing gently. I’m so fucking thrilled that she still knows that. Still feels it. Still wants me with a craving she can’t control. I am her god.
Jesus. This woman rules me. Controls me. She keeps my blood chasing through my veins, my heart beating, my soul pure. And right now, she doesn’t even know it. She needs reacquainting with the feelings that always cripple us. That take us to heights no one could ever understand. The feelings that make us us. I think she’s more or less there already. Even before this moment. Even before we made love. Even if she’s confused by our connection and the natural reactions we have to each other. They’re all still there inside her, there to be uncovered.
‘I’m going to fuck you to—’
I’m interrupted from finishing my promise when the door of the office flies open. And there’s only a split second before a shocked yelp penetrates the room. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry!’
I just catch sight of a distressed-looking Cherry before the door slams, leaving us alone again.
‘Oh God, how embarrassing!’ Ava scrambles up from the desk with the help of my hand. ‘Who was that?’
‘Cherry.’ I steady Ava on her feet and push her hair from her eyes on a smile. She’s all in a fluster, and it’s sexy as hell.
‘Who’s Cherry?’
‘She works for us. Wait there.’ I head to the door, damning myself for not locking it. Fucking hell, I’m charged.
‘Jesse?’ Ava calls, and I turn, finding her pointing at my groin area as she dips to collect the things we’ve knocked from the desk. ‘You might want to put yourself away. And maybe put your T-shirt back on.’ She throws it to me and I catch it, looking down at my crotch.
Shit, I’m hanging out all over the place. I hear her chuckle as I continue to the door, tucking my cock into my boxers and fastening my jeans. Swinging the door open, I find Cherry standing outside, her cheeks crimson.
Her gaze drops to my chest, her body visibly softening. ‘Oh, there it is,’ she whispers under her breath.
‘What?’
She snaps out of her little trance and looks up at me. ‘Good to see you, Jesse.’ The tone of her voice is effortlessly husky, and her eyes are flashing delightedly. She smiles, giving me the once-over again, hugging the files to her chest. The pressure pushes her tits up. Again, not that I’m purposely looking. They’re kinda just . . . there.
I ignore her blatant flirting, looking past her down the corridor when I hear the sound of footsteps – heavy footsteps that can belong to only one man. John strides towards us, his signature shades firmly in place. ‘Cherry,’ he rumbles, nodding sharply at the woman outside my office before turning his eyes on me. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘We’re not staying.’ I pull my T-shirt on as I back up into the office to let them in, ignoring the grin on Cherry’s face.
John spots Ava at her desk, his smooth forehead crinkling a little. ‘Hey, girl.’
‘Hey,’ she says quietly, looking past me to the woman who’s on the threshold of her office. She also looks wary. Maybe a little pissed off, and it’s not because Cherry put the blockers on our moment.
I quickly move aside when Cherry wanders in, her arm brushing mine. ‘It’s lovely to see you, Ava.’ She reaches the desk and smiles brightly at my wife, who looks at her with a little suspicion.
‘Sure it is,’ she mumbles, all hostile. ‘Would you mind giving us five minutes?’ she says to Cherry, the question sounding like anything but a question, her tone flat, her smile sickly sweet.
‘Of course.’ Cherry backs away, turning and sashaying to the door. She definitely straightens her back on the way, and she definitely has a little pouty-lips thing going on. Fucking hell.
I roll my eyes and face my annoyed wife. Maybe annoyed is an understatement. Seething seems more appropriate. She isn’t a happy girlie. And I’m thrilled. She cocks her head in question, and I just shrug. What can I say?
‘I’ve given Cherry a few more responsibilities in Ava’s absence,’ John says, maybe a little cautiously. ‘Sorry if I’ve upset you, girl.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Ava grumbles moodily. ‘It’s not like I can remember how to do my job, anyway.’ She picks up a few bits of paper from the floor and scans them before chucking them back on the desk and dropping to the chair.
‘The accounts need to be kept in check, membership fees collected, creditors paid,’ the big man continues, showing a rare pacifying side.
‘You don’t need to be worrying about work at the moment.’ I join John in his attempts to make Ava feel better, because despondency over work isn’t good when she’s spouting off shit about other jobs. Over my dead body. ‘We need to focus on getting you well.’
Her scowl is pointed at me, though I know she’s more annoyed with herself. ‘I feel fine,’ she grumbles, pushing herself to her feet. ‘And I also don’t need to be worried about some hussy coming on to my husband.’
John coughs, and I smile like a madman on the inside. She’s not only being possessive over me, which alone is thrilling, she’s also being possessive over her job. This is good. She can quit with the stupid idea of getting another one. ‘No woman turns my head unless it is my wife,’ I remind her, wandering over and collecting her hand. ‘You know that.’
Her over-the-top pout is so adorable. She wants reassurance. I’ll give it, all day every day. I hope we once again get to the point when she doesn’t need it any more. ‘I know that.’ She puts herself in my chest, her arms slipping around my back, her cheek squished against my T-shirt. ‘For such an old man, you’re in high demand, Jesse Ward.’
I recoil, and John laughs his laugh that’s capable of shaking a building. ‘Go home,’ he chuckles, making for the door. ‘I’m keeping Cherry in check.’
‘Thanks, John.’ I wrestle Ava from my front and turn her, leading her to the door. ‘Old?’
Her shoulders jump under my palms. ‘Your age doesn’t seem to be making the slightest bit of difference to the attention you get. That Cherry must be ten years younger than me.’
‘You being all possessive?’ I kiss her cheek as we walk back to the main floor of the gym, me tailing her, her hands now resting over mine where they lay on her shoulders. ‘Because I like it.’
She comes to a stop, and her body starts jerking a little under my touch. Worried, I round her. She has the biggest smile on her face.
‘What?’ I ask.
Lifting her arm, she points, prompting me to look over my shoulder. ‘Rowing machines,’ she says, definite humour edging her tone, though it’s obvious she’s unsure why, a small frown marring her smile when I return my attention to her.
‘What’s so funny?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know.’ She shakes her head. ‘Do you like rowing?’
I grin, looking back at the machines, thinking they’ve developed a lot over the years. There’s no way I could execute the perfect slide and hit on one of those things. I’m so glad I kept my old one. ‘We love rowing.’
‘We do?’ She seems surprised by the revelation. ‘Am I good at it?’
I chuckle to myself, feeling my eyes spark with revived fire. ‘You’re very good at it.’
‘What, like all romantic, rowing-on-the-river type of thing? Sunshine, peace and gooey romantic words?’ Her eyes gleam. I’m about to burst her idyllic bubble.
My palm creeping across her shoulders, I pull her into my side and start walking us away from the rowing machines. ‘Not quite like that.’ I feel her look up at me in question, prompting me to go on. ‘Our rowing is very unique.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me? So, come on, then. How do we row?’
I nod at a few patrons as they pass, the men wiping their sweaty brows with towels. ‘It involves me sitting on the seat and you sitting on me.’
‘On those things?’ she questions, stopping us and turning to inspect the machines again. ‘How is that even possible?’
‘I don’t think it is.’ I look down at her, grinning, and take her hand, tugging her back over. ‘Come on, let’s try.’
Her resistance is instant, her spare hand wrapped around my wrist trying to stop me, her feet digging in. ‘Jesse.’ She’s laughing, but it’s loaded with nerves. ‘We’re in the middle of the gym floor.’
‘So?’ My strength will always win, and I have her where I want her within a few seconds. Her dark eyes scan the length of metal, worry written all over that gorgeous face. Keeping hold of her hand, I lower myself to the seat and pat my thigh. ‘All aboard,’ I tease, and she bursts into fits of giggles, the sound saturating the space around us.
‘Stop it.’
‘No.’ I yank her forward and have her straddling my lap before she can protest again, her torso locked to my chest, our cheeks pressed together. ‘It goes something like this,’ I say quietly in her ear, using my feet to glide us down the railing. ‘Slide.’ I whisper the word and then launch us back up until our bodies jolt at the other end.
‘And hit,’ she finishes for me. The impact of her chest crushing to mine, her groin rubbing into me, the words that have come from deep within her. It’s a potent cocktail, causing wild activity past the fly of my jeans, activity that my wife hasn’t missed. She pulls back, her palms on my shoulders, and tilts her head. ‘Oh dear,’ she murmurs, wickedly grinding her hips into me.
‘Now you stop it,’ I warn, quickly lifting us from the seat before I’m pushed over the edge of control and give endless members of our club a show they won’t forget.
She giggles softly and puts herself in my chest, her hand on my nape pulling my lips down to hers. She kisses me hard. Possessively. I’m taken aback, but in no way complaining. ‘What was that for?’ I ask when she slows the roll of her searching tongue.
‘Just felt like kissing you.’ She pulls back, pouting. ‘I’m allowed, right?’
‘Stupid fucking question.’ I turn us to get us on our way, coming face to face with Cherry.
‘Oh.’ Ava moves into my side, clinging onto my arm. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you there.’
Cherry’s smile is pushed through gritted teeth, and I sigh, tugging Ava along before she moves into true trampling mode. I flip a tired look down at her as we take the stairs.
‘What?’ she asks, all innocent and pouty.
‘Nothing.’ I fight to keep my grin contained. It’s hard.
Because I’ve just been marked.