Beneath This Man (16 page)

I sigh tiredly. ‘I’m making no promises, and if you even think about trying to fuck some sense into me on this, I’m leaving.’ I threaten. I’m being completely dramatic, but I want him to know how much I don’t want to go. The Manor anniversary party? Never.

He nuzzles my ear and wraps his legs around the outside of mine. ‘I want the woman with me who keeps my heart beating.’

Oh God! That’s emotional blackmail if ever there was any. How the hell can I say no to that? Damn you, Jesse Ward, of an age I don’t know.

I let him continue to wash me while I think about using this to my advantage. Maybe I could negotiate his age from him in return for my presence at The Manor’s anniversary party. I’ll think carefully about how much I want to know his age compared to how much I
don’t
want to go to the party. That’s a tricky one.

‘Did you speak to Clive?’ I ask. I know he hasn’t. I’m being sneaky.

‘About what?’

‘The mystery woman.’

‘No, Ava, I didn’t have time. I promise you I will ask, though. I’m just as curious as you are. Now, are you hungry?’ He circles his tongue around my ear. It could send me to sleep. At least he hasn’t lied about talking to Clive.

‘Yes.’ I answer on a yawn. I’m famished. And tired too, but I’m not giving in. ‘I’m not going to sleep until you tell me who that woman was.’

‘How can I tell you if I don’t know?’

‘You do know.’

‘I don’t fucking know!’

I jump at his harshness, and then feel his arms lock tighter around me. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Okay.’ I say quietly. But it’s not. I’ll speak to Clive in the morning.

‘My lovely lady is exhausted.’ he whispers. ‘Take away?’ He bites at my earlobe, smoothing the soles of his feet down my shins.

‘You have a fridge full of food, it’s a waste.’  

‘Well, can you be bothered to cook?’ he asks.

No, I can’t, but I notice he doesn’t offer. Then again, he has openly admitted that cooking is one of the only things he’s crap at. What were his words? Oh yes…I can’t be amazing at everything. He was serious as well, the arrogant arse.

‘Take away.’ I agree.

He shifts under me. ‘I’ll go and order, you wash your hair.’ He lifts himself out of the bath and leaves me in the massive tub by myself. I watch his wet nakedness stroll out of the bathroom, returning a few moments later with some women’s shampoo and conditioner. I’m eternally grateful. My poor hair has been mistreated way too much lately. He gives me a grin and leans down to kiss my forehead. ‘Wear lace.’ He disappears out of the bathroom and I fall back in the tub, closing my eyes for a while and savouring the quiet and peaceful surroundings of the colossal master bathroom of
Lusso
. How did I end up here?

Chapter 8

I stretch myself out and I’m immediately aware of Jesse’s absence in the bed. Propping myself up on my elbows, I spy him sat on the chaise lounge, bending down.

Oh no!

I lay back down as quietly as I possibly can and shut my eyes. He might not have noticed I woke – if I’m lucky. After a few silent moments, I feel the bed dip, but I keep my eyes firmly shut, silently begging him to leave me alone.

An age of me pretending to be asleep passes by and he still hasn’t nudged me, so I cautiously open my eyes and find green pools of delight staring down at me. I groan, very loudly, as I watch the semblance of a small smile tickle his lips. I flip myself over onto my front and cover my head with a pillow, then hear him laugh as the pillow is whipped from my head and I’m turned over onto my back.

‘Good morning.’ he chirps, and I screw my face up in disgust at his cheery, break of dawn happiness.

‘Please don’t make me.’ I plead, pulling my most solemn face.

‘Up you get.’ He grabs my hand with his good one and pulls me into a sitting position. I make a big display of moaning in repulsion at his idea of starting the day, and then nearly start crying when he presents me with my freshly laundered running kit that he, so generously, bought me.

‘I want sleepy sex,’ I complain. ‘Please.’

He hoofs me off the bed and draws my lace knickers down my legs before tapping my ankles to lift. ‘It will do you good.’ he states firmly.

It’s all right for him. He runs stupid distances on a daily basis. I’m more of a quick few miles girl when I feel the need to shift a few pounds. ‘Hey! Are you trying to tell me something?’ I narrow my eyes on his crouched form before me.

He rolls his eyes and signals for me to lift my foot so he can get me into my Little Miss knickers. ‘Shut up, Ava. If anything, you’re too slim at the moment.’ he scolds me. He’s right, I am.

I let him dress me in my shorts, vest top and trainers. ‘This is torture.’ I grumble.

‘Go brush your teeth.’ He slaps my bum, and I head off into the bathroom, dragging my feet and rolling my head back to make a point of my disgruntled mood.

I clean my teeth, locate a hair bobble from my bag and make my way down the stairs to find him at the front door waiting for me. ‘I’m just a hindrance.’ I moan as I scrape my hair into a ponytail. He’ll be much quicker without me, and I’ll get an extra hour and a half in bed. ‘I’ll never do the full fourteen.’

He takes my hand and leads me out of the penthouse and into the elevator. ‘You’ll never be a hindrance to me, I like having you with me.’ He punches in his code and we descend to the foyer. I love being with him too, but not at five in the morning and running around London.

‘You need to get that code changed.’ I remind him.

He looks at me, all bright eyed and bushy tailed. I could slap him for being so wide awake and alert. ‘Nag.’ he mouths, and it’s at that point I elect not to remind him again.

We emerge into the dawn sunlight to birds chirping and the hum of delivery vans – the same sounds I recognise from my previous punishing pre-dawn torture session.

I start to stretch before any instruction from Jesse, and he smiles as he watches me, at the same time carrying out his own muscle sweep. I want to be a grump, but he is just too delicious in his black shorts and tight, white vest, his hair a disheveled mess on his head and his morning stubble at just the right length.

‘Ready?’ I chirp, as I bounce off toward the pedestrian gates. I punch in the exit code and start jogging towards the Thames. I feel better already.

‘Just think,’ he muses, as he joins my side and we start running steadily together. ‘We can do this together every morning.’

I cough on a sharp inhale of air. Fourteen miles every morning? I don’t think so, the mad bastard.

We jog at a steady pace, and I’m reminded of the relaxing advantages of running at this time of day. It really is very peaceful and mind cleansing. I glance up at my beautiful man every now and again in the hope that he is at least displaying some sign of fatigue. Of course, I’m sorely disappointed each time. He’s like a machine. I make a mental note to have my iPod ready for the next time he heaves me out of bed at this God forsaken hour.

We hit St James’s Park and the early morning runners come into view – all women, who start faffing with their running vests and straightening their backs. Oh yes. How many of them time their runs just right?

Jesse puts his hand up to many of them as they smile brightly and bash their fake lashes at him. I want to throw up, or trip them up. Are the fancy earphones and bum bags with pouches of energy shots loaded into them really necessary?

I feel his eyes on me, and I know he is checking to see how I’m doing. I feel okay, as it happens, but if he increases his pace, then it might be a different story.

We conquer The Green Park and make our way onto Piccadilly, passing the point at which I collapsed the last time. I glance across to the spot where I sat every morning, picking at the grass and soaking up the dew through my trousers. I can see myself there – a pasty, empty waif – a half complete woman.

‘Hey.’

I snap from my daydream and look up at Jesse, finding a concerned face. I’m sure he can read my thoughts. ‘Fine.’ I puff, shaking my head and giving him a reassuring smile.

I shake off my sad thoughts and mentally applaud myself. I’m going to do this. I feel Jesse’s elbow nudge me, and I glance up to see a look of recognition to my achievement on his non-sweaty face, but then I do a quick calculation in my head and figure that we’re probably two thirds gone. At the thought of at least another four and a half miles, I hit the proverbial runner’s wall…again. My lungs seem to drain of all air and my body starts burning up along with them.

I’m not going to do this.

I battle on for a few hundred yards and then enter the park at the next entrance, dramatically collapsing on the damp grass…again. I heave valuable air into my scorching lungs and pant like a dog on heat. I must look like I’m having an asthma attack.

I watch through my slightly blurred vision as Jesse approaches me and stands over me. I shield my eyes from the low morning sun and get my focus on him. ‘I did better than last time.’ I splutter between dragging in long, wheezy breaths.

He smiles. ‘You did, baby.’ He drops to his knees besides me and lifts my leg, rubbing firm, slow circles into my calf muscle. It has me groaning and him laughing. ‘I’m proud of you. Give it a few days and you’ll fly through it.’

What?
My eyes bulge under my closed lids. If I had enough breath, I would cough in disgust. Has this man ever heard of the term, baby steps?

I lay on the grass as he works his magic hands on every burning muscle. I could lie here all day, but all too soon, he pulls me up into a sitting position and waves a twenty under my nose.

‘I came prepared. Coffee?’ He nods past me, and I look to see a Starbucks over the road.

I could kiss him. I throw my arms around him in gratitude for his forward thinking. I’ve been rubbed back to life, and now I get a Starbucks. The run was worth it. He laughs and stands with me still wrapped around his neck.

‘Stretch your legs.’ he demands softly, unlinking my arms from him. I comply immediately, remembering the last time he told me to stretch after our run – I didn’t. I was too busy being distracted by his unreasonable demand to have me work at The Manor constantly. As a result, I spent all day drawing my foot up to my backside to try and alleviate some of the aching.

He stands and watches me as I see through my muscle stretches. He looks so happy, his eyes twinkling, his frown line nowhere to be seen.

‘Come on.’ He takes my hand and we stroll over to Starbucks, getting served super quick due to the early hour. I’m hungry, but if I eat anything I’m only going to load my body back up with the calories I’ve just burned off. Everything smells so fresh and yummy, though.

‘Do you want something to eat?’ Jesse asks. He must have seen me staring longingly at the pastries.

‘No.’ I answer quickly, dragging my eyes away from the mouthwatering temptations in the glass cabinet.

He smiles and wraps his palm around the back of my neck, pulling me into him and resting his lips on my forehead before turning his attention back to the swooning sales clerk. ‘A cappuccino, extra shot, no chocolate, a strong black coffee and two blueberry muffins, please.’ He smiles brightly at the young girl, who giggles nervously. He returns his eyes to me. ‘Go and get a seat.’

‘I said I wasn’t hungry.’

‘You’ll eat, Ava. End of.’

I shake my head at him, but don’t argue. Instead, I find a window seat and flop down in the leather couch. What a perfect way to start the day, ten mile run aside. I would still take sleepy sex over this, though. I would take sleepy sex over anything.

My mind starts drifting to Jesse’s plea for me to go to The Manor’s party. What sort of party would it be, anyway? Visions of semi-naked people, all milling around, springs to mind, along with hazy, dim lighting and erotic music. Oh yes, and grid-like contraptions, hooks, hoists…whips.

Fucking hell!

It would be like a giant gang-bang with kinky toys! Oh Jesus good Lord above. Not only do I
not
want to go myself, I’m not that crazy about the thought of Jesse being there either. An assault of jealousy spikes at me repeatedly as I imagine women drooling all over him, trying to entice him with promises of wicked sex. There’s no doubt he is up for a bit of rough, and he’s bloody good at it. Oh God, he’s used to all of that shit. Okay, I’m having complete mental breakdown in Starbucks, and again I’m reminded that he’s had a lot of practice…with sex…and toys…and…

STOP!

What a depressing thought. I saw the look on those women’s faces when I was at The Manor. I
was
an interloper, and I can imagine the reception I would get if I did go to the party. It certainly wouldn’t be any warmer than my previous visits. I would be, in effect, gatecrashing their gang-bang. This is horrible.

‘Dreaming?’

I pull my eyes from the lush greenness of the park across the road, to the lush greenness of my Lord of the Sex Manor. I smile a really unconvincing smile. I feel depressed and slightly inadequate all of a sudden. And really, really bitter – resentful and consumed with jealousy.

He eyes me suspiciously while arranging the coffees and muffins on the table before ridding himself of the tray and taking a seat opposite me. I start picking at the top of my muffin as I stir my coffee. I know he’s watching me, but I can’t seem to muster up the strength to appear fine. I’m not. We haven’t even talked about The Manor. We haven’t talked about anything really.

‘I’m not coming to the party.’ I say to my cappuccino. ‘I love you, but I can’t do that.’ I add the last bit in the hope of softening the blow. My Lord doesn’t take
no
well – not from me, anyway.

After a few silent moments pass, I glance up to establish what expression his handsome face is displaying. There’s no rage or scowl, but his frown line has jumped into position and he is chewing his bottom lip, which tells me this is really important to him. If he hits me with another statement like he did during our tub talk last night, I’ll cry.

‘It’s not going to be how you think it will be, Ava.’ he says quietly.