The entire drive home, Ava’s fingers remained clawed into the leather of her seat. It didn’t make me take my foot off the pedal. Either the car took the heat of my anger, or Ava did, and shouting and screaming at her wouldn’t have helped either of us.
I’m surprised my Aston’s door doesn’t drop to the gravel driveway on a scream of pain after I’ve viciously slammed it shut. Ava’s out of the car far quicker than I expected she could manage, hobbling to the door.
I hurry to catch up, my instinct to help her taking over and taming my anger. ‘I can walk.’ She bats my hands away as I try to pick her up. ‘Leave me alone.’
I will never leave her alone. Leaving her alone would be as good as giving up, and where my wife is concerned, I never give up. As gently as I can, I lunge in and swipe her from her feet, lifting her over my shoulder. ‘Forget it, lady.’ The smashing of her fists into my back are a sign of her trying to make a stand more than a means of escape. We both know she’s going nowhere until I release her.
‘I said leave me alone!’ she screams, half-vexed, half-hysterical. It’s exactly how I feel inside. I absorb each blow, pacing towards the door. ‘Jesse!’
‘Shut the fuck up, Ava,’ I warn, kicking the door open once I’ve unlocked it.
‘You’re an animal!’
‘Story of my fucking life where you’re concerned.’ I lower her to her feet. The fists that were smacking pointlessly at my back begin pounding at my chest. And I just stand, motionless, letting her vent and thrash out, screaming her frustration.
If only I had the same kind of outlet. Something to beat and pound and scream at. But I don’t, so I savour her brutal smashes of my torso, hoping that at the same time she beats the frustration out of me, too.
She goes for it mercilessly, her strength fuelled by her despair.
And I’m fine with it. I’d be her punching bag for the rest of my miserable days if it would make her feel even the tiniest bit better. Because, ultimately, while I’m in pieces trying to navigate my way through this unfamiliar, painful territory, the love of my life is in more despair. While I have our memories to cling to, she does not. While I have our children’s faces to picture during this nightmare, every moment of their short lives to remember, she does not. While I have hope and recognise the glimmers of her recollections, she does not.
My thoughts take over, anger burning my insides as she continues to scream and punch. ‘Go on!’ I roar, and she starts, moving back. ‘Fucking hit me, Ava! It can’t feel any worse than how I’m hurting here.’ I smash my fist into my chest. ‘So hit me!’
I close my eyes as she comes at me again. And while she’s lashing out, I think about how powerful our love is. Not as powerful as I always thought, because if it was, surely it would shine through anything. Even this.
It takes me a few seconds to realise that she’s stopped thumping me, and when I open my eyes, I find her heaving before me, her hair a crazy mess around her face, her eyes wild. We stare at each other for a few moments, me expressionless, Ava clearly shocked by her outburst. Or shocked that I’ve stood here and accepted it. Because what the fuck else would I do? Retaliate? Hit her back? Her thinking that might be a possibility makes me feel sick. Makes me want to hurt myself to demonstrate that I’d take everything before I’d let anything cause her pain.
Just seeing her before me looking so lost and hopeless, clearly wondering what I’m thinking, and me knowing what she’s thinking, only amplifies my despair. And my anger. I can’t take this.
I leave her to compose herself in the hallway while I stalk through the house to the games room, my mind set on one thing. The one thing that will numb me. The one thing that will take me away from my nightmare. My eyes home in on the bottle set on the bar; the respite that just a few swigs could give me is too tempting to pass up. I shrug my suit jacket off and toss it to the carpet, then yank my tie loose and pop open the top button of my collar, too.
My eyes still on that bottle, my hand goes through my hair roughly. Long-lost memories of the alcohol-induced haze of nothingness return full force. I need that nothingness right now. Because if this is how my life is going to feel from now on, then I’m out. I’m done.
I swipe up the bottle of vodka and pull out the cork, my breathing laboured. A bead of sweat starts trickling down my forehead, and I roughly wipe it away as I bring the bottle to my lips. Just one sip. That’s all it’ll take. One swallow to start numbing the pain.
Nostrils flaring, I knock back my first big gulp and gasp, the liquor burning down my dry throat. It hits my stomach hard, and my thoughts go back to the days when I was lost in a haze of drink and women. I see myself naked. With endless women, all women who aren’t my wife.
‘Jesse!’ Ava’s stricken voice pierces my flashback, pulling me away from the decadent days of The Manor, back to my reality. Her glassy eyes hold me in place. Beautiful eyes, the chocolate eyes that put me under a spell and never let me go. ‘You shouldn’t be drinking,’ she pants, still breathless from her episode in the hallway.
I look down at the bottle, except this time I don’t see an escape. Now I see poison. Now I see the coward’s choice. Now I see real damage. She’s right; I shouldn’t be drinking it. But most importantly, she knows I shouldn’t be drinking it. ‘Why?’ I ask quietly, looking back to her. ‘Why shouldn’t I be drinking it, Ava?’
Her mouth opens and closes, her mind clearly straining to find the answer. I don’t want to admit that the answer she’s looking for isn’t there. I don’t want to accept that she won’t find it. Her statement was just another one of those pointless glimmers of hope.
Her blankness shoves me over the edge, and I lose my shit, frustration and despair getting the better of me. ‘Why, Ava?’ I roar. ‘Why shouldn’t I be drinking the fucking vodka?’
‘I don’t know,’ she sobs, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably, emotion finally taking the place of her frustration. ‘I don’t know.’ She buries her face in hands, hiding from our reality.
Seeing her so broken is harder than dealing with the frustration. Seeing her so utterly helpless shreds my heart. This is lower than any depths of hell I thought I’d seen.
‘Fuck!’ I flip, throwing the bottle at the wall ferociously before I do something stupid like down the rest. Shards of glass fly like shrapnel, the devil’s juice spraying every wall.
‘I shouldn’t drink it because I’m a fucking alcoholic!’ I boom. ‘Because before I met you, all I did was drink myself into oblivion and fuck anything with a fucking pulse. That’s why!’ I stagger back, my back hitting the wall, my breathing shot. I can’t control my body. My mouth.
My fucking tears.
Though I can still see her shock through the water distorting my sight.
‘You gave me a reason to stop, Ava.’ I heave where I stand, feeling like my life’s rapidly escaping my control altogether. ‘You made my heart start beating again. And now you’re not here any more and I don’t know if I can go on without you.’
My knees buckle, and I slide down the wall like a sack of shit, hitting the floor on a thud. I’m past holding it all in. I’m so past trying to be the strong one. Because without Ava, I’m the weakest man alive, and I feel like I’m without her now. My elbows hit my knees, my face going into my palms and hiding. I can’t bear the shock on her face. Can’t stand the fact that she’s seeing me like this.
‘Just go to bed,’ I beg, needing her to leave me alone in my misery. ‘Just go.’
I feel cold. Lonely.
And then . . . not.
Her hand slides onto my neck, and I look up to find her kneeling before me, teary eyes staring into mine. ‘I’m going nowhere.’ Edging her way closer, she places her palms on my knees and pushes them apart, moving between them. ‘Because even though I don’t know where I am, I feel like I’m at home. Even though I’m struggling to wrap my mind around you’ – more tears tumble as she squeezes my knees – ‘I know you’re mine. I know I’m your heart. Because even though I don’t know you, I know that when I think of you gone, it hurts really bad just here.’ Taking my hand, she pushes it into her chest. Her heart is thundering. Like mine.
‘Ava, I’m a broken man.’ I feel fucking awful admitting it. ‘The thought of you losing every memory we’ve had together cripples me.’
‘I know you’re stronger than this. I know you’re more determined. You promised you wouldn’t give up on me.’
My heart constricts. ‘Baby, I haven’t given up.’ I sigh and gesture her closer, and she comes with ease, letting me pull her onto my lap and cuddle her. ‘I’m just having a minor relapse.’
She snuggles close, and my world evens out a little. ‘Don’t have a relapse again, please.’
‘Then you need to start doing as you’re told.’
‘Never,’ she argues. ‘Because I know I never normally do, do I?’
I smile through my sadness. ‘You don’t.’
We remain bunched up on the floor for a while, quiet, both of us calming, our bodies recovering from our shakes. Then Ava breaks out of my hold, placing her lips on my cheek and inhaling. ‘Come to bed?’
I swallow, hating that it sounds like an unsure question. ‘I’d love to.’ I’ll cuddle her all night. Keep her close. No sex, no anything, just contact. I need contact.
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me,’ I scold her gently. ‘Never thank me for loving you.’
‘Because it was what you were put on this earth to do.’ Her bottom lip quivers over every word, and I gulp down the melon-sized lump in my throat and yank her back into me.
‘That’s right.’ Suffocating her with my hold, I sink my face into her hair and fight to keep more emotion at bay. ‘This dress is still ridiculous,’ I croak.
‘I forget I’m thirty-eight now.’
‘So you were just being stubborn, yes?’ I don’t need confirmation. I know my wife better than she knows herself.
She nods into my chest. ‘I don’t have the figure I did when I was in my early twenties.’
I scoff at that, getting us up from the floor and lifting her into my arms. ‘You’re more beautiful every day. End of.’ We’ll be having none of that nonsense.
‘You’re obliged to say that.’
‘I’m obliged to say nothing, lady.’ I take the stairs and enter our bedroom. ‘But, as you know, you are obliged to do as I say.’ I place her on her feet and automatically turn her around, taking the zip of her dress. ‘Understand?’
She nods and remains still as I unfasten her, my eyes falling down her back with the zip. As I push the material aside, I hold my breath, bracing myself for the vision of her exposed back.
‘Perfect,’ I sigh, letting the red material drop to the floor. The black lace underwear underneath fits her perfectly. Fuck. I don’t think that cuddle I was hoping for will be enough. Will she let me?
My hands reach for the clasp of her bra. One flick releases the catch, and I notice her shoulders lift an inch. I move in close and slide my forearm around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder. ‘I want to make love to you,’ I whisper, and she tenses, but not from fear. It’s from anticipation. ‘I want to peel this lace off your body and take my time exploring every inch of you.’ I drag the straps of her bra down her arms until it tumbles to the floor. ‘I need you, Ava. More than I’ve ever needed you.’ Kissing her cheek lightly, I relish the feel of her pushing closer into me. ‘Let me show you how much I love you.’
She turns slowly and lifts her chin to see me, and without a word she starts to unbutton my shirt, one by one, slowly and purposefully, a million emotions dancing in her dreamy eyes. Fear. Hope. But most of all, need. For me.
I realise I need to be gentle. Slow and patient, thoughtful and caring. More so than ever before. So I let her undress me at her own speed, resisting the urge to rip my clothes from my body and toss her on the bed. ‘Want some help?’ I ask, just so she knows I’m open to all options.
She glances up at me, and I see apprehension in her gaze. And I realise that even though she’s desperate for me, she doesn’t know what this will be like. She doesn’t know how explosive we are together, whether hard and raw or slow and loving.
‘Don’t be nervous.’ I take her wrists, instantly feeling her tremble. ‘We don’t have to do this.’ Never has it taken so much energy to say just a few words.
‘But I want to.’ Her gaze drops from mine, down my torso, her teeth sinking into her lip. ‘I really want to.’
Forcing her way out of my hold, she pushes my shirt from my shoulders and places her hands on my pecs. My body feels like it’s just gone up in flames, and my hands twitch, desperate to grab her. Ravage her. Kiss her. Make love to her. The look in her eyes tells me she’s aware of all this. She knows.
‘I really want to.’ She reinforces her claim with a hard kiss on the lips, and I’m instantly overwhelmed by it, my palm going to the back of her head, gently pushing her closer, my mouth opening, inviting her in.
Her hands are everywhere. Our kiss is bordering clumsy. I can feel my control slipping. This is what desperation does to me. It makes me urgent, makes me want to take her hard and fast, to stake my claim, mark my territory, show her how good we are. But now isn’t the time for me to get carried away.
I slow the tempo of our kiss. I don’t need to give her instruction. Her hands find the fly of my trousers, and I kick off my shoes. I help her slide my trousers off, keeping up our kiss, and then walk her back to the bed. I take her down to the mattress and gently tug her up to the top. Our lips are still sealed, our tongues dancing slowly, breathing each other’s breath.
I don’t think she’s ever tasted so good, even with the hints of alcohol mixed between us. I come down to rest over her, taking my arms up over her head, leaving her hands free to roam my back, my arse, and eventually my face. She is lost. Consumed. I force myself to break our kiss, just to prove to myself that she’ll hate the loss.
‘Jesse,’ she pants, her hands grabbing at my hair, trying to get me back on her mouth. Then her legs lock around my waist, a demonstration that she’s not letting me go anywhere. ‘Why are you stopping?’ She blinks repeatedly, and the egomaniac inside me likes to think that it’s because she’s struggling with my magnificence so close up.
‘I just want to look at you for a moment knowing that I’ll be inside you again very soon.’
Her lips purse, her hands going to the waistband of my boxers. She pushes them over the rise of my arse. ‘How does a man of your age stay in such good shape?’ She cheekily pinches my bum, and I flinch on an epic grin.
‘Lot and lots of sex.’
A small giggle escapes her, and her short nails sink into the flesh of my arse. I grit my teeth, enduring the sharp pain. ‘I’ll have to take your word for it.’
‘You’d better take my word for it.’ I raise my eyebrows in warning as her hand glides softly through my hair, her eyes following.
‘Because it’s so good?’
‘The sex? Yes.’
‘I’m afraid I need proof, Mr Ward.’ Her browns land on mine with a bang, and the blood that’s been steadily filling my cock gushes in. Her lips press together, her hips flexing up, pushing into my colossal erection. ‘Oh my,’ she breathes.
‘You’ve felt nothing yet, lady.’ Down I go, lips crashing to hers, slow and steady suddenly forgotten. Wild hands feel down my thighs and start pulling impatiently at my boxers. I can fully appreciate her eagerness, taking my own hands to her knickers, but rather than trying to shove them down her legs, I rip them right off.
She inhales sharply but quickly adopts my method, tugging at my boxers. I hear a rip, but they’re still a barrier between my flesh and hers. ‘Fuck,’ I mutter, taking over, giving them a few brutal yanks.
And then there is nothing but skin. Nothing but the friction of my flesh rubbing all over hers as we writhe together, our lips and tongues clashing, our moans and hungry gasps blending, drenching the room.
‘I need to be inside you now,’ I tell her, shifting my hips to get the angle right.
It doesn’t take much guidance from Ava to get my cock resting at her throbbing entrance. She sucks in air and holds it, and I pull back to get her in my sights. Eyes on hers, I nudge forward a fraction, resisting the urge to pound straight in. ‘You ready, baby?’
‘God, yeah.’ She can hardly talk through her want, but she can move, rolling her hips up and taking a bit more of me.
‘Oh Jesus.’ My head drops limply, the feel of only a little bit of her stripping me of control. I thrust forward on a yell and hold still.
‘You fit me just right.’ She threads her hands through the hair at my nape and tugs me back onto her lips. ‘So fucking right.’
‘Watch your mouth, Ava.’
‘No.’
‘Okay.’ She could swear until she’s blue in the face and I’m red, and I wouldn’t give a shit. Because now. Now is everything.
‘Move.’ She sinks her nails into my arse again, egging me on. ‘Oh God, please move. You feel so good.’
I’m not the kind of man to disappoint, especially my wife. Nuzzling her cheek, I take her hands from my arse and thrust them up on the pillow, raising a little to get her in my sights. She’s panting. Wanting. Loving the feel of me inside her. I jolt my hips teasingly. ‘You want gentle Jesse, baby?’ I lick my lips, savouring the sight of her sweating. ‘Or should I rip you clean in two?’
She inhales, somewhere between shock and delight. ‘Which do I prefer?’
‘Depends on your mood. What are you in the mood for, gorgeous wife?’ Another thrust, short and sharp, makes her tense, snap her mouth shut, and hold her breath.
‘Just take me away from our nightmare for a while. I don’t care how. Just do it.’
I waver on the edge of despondency. Our nightmare. She wants to escape. Then she bumps her hips, too, and that despondency sinks in a pleasure like no other. ‘I’m introducing a new fuck to our relationship, baby.’ Dipping, I kiss her hard, pulling away before she has a chance to engage her mouth and keep me there. ‘We’ll call it the Reunion Fuck.’
And that fuck is going to be my new favourite. I swivel my hips, grinding deeply. I flex my hands over her wrists, but keep them where they are, withdrawing from the amazing warmth of her pussy and gliding gently back in. My body is craving a nice hard fuck, but my mind won’t allow it. ‘I’m going to make the softest love to you.’
She melts beneath me, and the wobble of her lip tells me she likes my idea. ‘Okay.’
I lower my face, catching her mouth gently as I start a measured, delicate rock of my hips, making sure my drives are slow and exact, my tongue following suit. I release her hands and let her feel me. I let her control our kiss, tolerating the loss of her lips from time to time when she lazily throws her head around on the pillow, sighing, moaning, struggling to keep her eyes open. She’s floating away, caught in the moment. A moment with me. I ensure my rhythm is consistent, ensure she’s held in a perfect state of pleasure. I’ve never seen anything so stunning, and I find myself focusing more on her losing herself rather than my own pleasure. It’s no loss. Nothing could ever beat this.
My wet skin peels away from her chest as I lift and brace myself on my forearms, needing a better view. Her eyes follow mine, her hands reaching for my face and holding me. Our hips are in perfect sync, her rolling up, me rolling down, each plunge achieving the deepest depths.
‘I can see why I fell in love with you,’ she whispers, grazing her palms over my stubble.
‘Because I’m an Adonis in bed?’
‘And out of bed.’ Her voice gets higher, and then she moans her way back down to a level tone, her eyes blinking slowly. ‘You’re the perfect mix of man. Big, strong, passionate, devoted. You love with everything you have.’
‘And I’m nothing without you.’
‘And everything with me.’ I’m pulled down, her face sinking into my neck, and we take the final stretch to release holding each other tight, breathing in time together, moving as one.
Our climax hits simultaneously. I don’t yell. Neither does she. I don’t buck or jolt. Neither does she. We roll through our pleasure calmly and quietly, the only frantic, crazy thing happening being the hammering of both our hearts. I’m alive. So is she. Everything else can be fixed. I’m sure of it.
‘You want me to move?’ I ask against the wet flesh of her neck, mindful that I’m now limp and probably very heavy.
‘No.’ Arms coming straight around my shoulders, legs around my waist, she locks me up tightly in her hold. ‘I want you to stay exactly where you are all night.’ She turns her face into mine and finds my lips. ‘Because this is where you are supposed to be. With no space between us.’
Locked together.
Touching everywhere. Her lips resting on mine, my lungs inhaling her breath.
‘Jesse?’ she murmurs sleepily in my ear, and I hum my prompt for her to go on. ‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’