Page 16 of This Woman Forever
“This is bad luck. You’re not supposed to see me before our wedding.”
“Stop me.” I can’t help myself, not when she’s this close, not ever. I rest my mouth on hers, keeping my body away from any other contact. Otherwise, it’ll be game over. “I’ve missed you.” Pined for you. Lost my mind over you. Standard.
“It’s been twelve hours.”
“Too long.” I lazily lick her lips, loving her moan and her hands flying up to my biceps, but hating the taste of lingering alcohol. “You’ve had a drink.”
“Just a sip.” She doesn’t lie, which surprises me. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You can’t look like this and say things like that, Ava.” I push for a full-on kiss, knowing she won’t deny me. And she doesn’t. Our tongues meet and fall into a perfect rhythm of rolling, retreating, and pecking, each one of us making our satisfaction known with continuous moans and whimpers.
“Jesse, we’re going to be late for our wedding.”
“Don’t tell me to stop kissing you, Ava.” I nibble my way across her bottom lip and tug gently. “Never tell me to stop kissing you.” I fall to my knees, taking Ava with me, and spend some quiet time just feeling her, wondering how the fucking hell a screwed-up twat like me could be blessed with such a wonderful woman. I’m so incredibly happy, but terrified at the same time. There’s still so much for her to know, and I’m a fool to think that getting her down the aisle at lightning speed will eradicate her need to be cognizant with my past.
My eyes pass slowly across her flat stomach, but she doesn’t notice this time. She knows I’ve stolen her pills, that I’ve been underhanded and deceitful... and she’s still here. That has to stand for something, doesn’t it? Then why the fucking hell won’t she talk about it? And what will I say when she finally plucks up the courage to face it head-on? How will I explain? I hardly know what the hell I’m doing from one minute to the next. And sometimes... it just happens, no thoughts, no reasoning. Just instinct. Will she understand?
I find her eyes and cry on the inside for the woman I’ve fallen so deeply in love with and, again, I wonder how she can feel so intensely for me too. I’m past grateful, but still perplexed by it. “Are you ready to do this?” I ask.
Her beautiful brow furrows completely. “Are you asking me if I still want to marry you?”
“No, you don’t get a choice. I’m just asking if you’re ready.”
“And what if I say no?” She’s playing with me, her small smile confirming it.
“You won’t.”
“Then why ask?”
My shoulders jump. “You’re nervous. I don’t want you to be nervous.” That’s a ridiculous request after my morning zooming around The Manor’s grounds.
“Jesse, I’m nervous because of where I’m getting married.”
My contentment at having contact diminishes at the reminder of her reservations. I’ve gone to the end of the earth to ensure The Manor is watertight. I’ve banished members. Compensated them for the inconvenience of our upcoming nuptials. She knows all of this. Not even a fucking rhino is getting in the communal room. But Elizabeth could. “Ava, everything has been taken care of. I said not to worry, so you shouldn’t. End of story.”
“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this.” She sounds defeated, doubtful, her head dropping and breaking our eye contact.
Her words and actions sting. I want her to have faith in me, never doubt me, which is an absurd wish, given my actions and behavior since I found her. I quickly direct her face to mine again, desperate to see her, and desperate for her to see me. To see how much I love her. It’s my only weapon.
“Hey. Stop it now,” I order softly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Ava, baby, I want you to cherish today, not get your knickers in a twist over something that’s never going to happen. It’s never going to happen. They’ll never know, I promise.”
I can see my words have had the desired effect because she visibly eases up, looking slightly guilty, which makes me feel like total shit. She has nothing to feel guilty about. I know how crazy this whole situation is. “Okay,” she says assertively, trustingly.
I’ve done nothing to deserve that trust.
Leaving her on the floor, I go to the chest of drawers and find a towel before going back to kneel in front of her. I soak up some of the perspiration from my face and hair with a quick swipe, then lay the towel across my sweaty chest.
“Come here.” I hold my arms open and love her lack of hesitance as she climbs into my chest and settles on my lap. “Better?” I squeeze her tight, my body relaxing with her.
“Much better. I love you, My Lord.”
I laugh, happiness sailing through my tired body, bringing it back to life. “I thought I was your god.”
“You’re that too.”