‘Ava, I can’t.’ he pleads.
‘Shit! Wait.’
‘Watch your mouth!’ he yells, his eyes still closed in concentration. It’s killing him.
‘Fuck off, Jesse!’
His eyes fly back open in warning at my crass words, but I couldn’t give a damn. I clamp my hands over his and use my leg muscles to lift myself again, hovering above him and crashing down so he completely spears me.
I lift again. ‘Now!’ I cry, smashing back down. My body explodes, sending me soaring right into orbit. I’m vaguely aware of Jesse’s strangled moans as I feel hot moisture invade me, warming my entire being. I collapse onto his chest in an exhausted heap – job done.
I lay sprawled across him, melting into the rhythm of his fingers circling my back, his semi-erection drumming steadily inside me. Our heartbeats are clashing together between our chests as we try to regulate our breathing. We’re both totally replete.
‘I love sleepy sex with you.’ I murmur.
He kisses the top of my head. ‘Except for your filthy mouth.’ His voice is full of scorn.
I laugh and look up at him, reaching to run my fingers down his stubbly cheek. I love his stubble. He turns his face into my touch, kissing my fingers and returning my smile.
‘I don’t think we can call that sleepy sex, baby.’
‘No?’
‘No. We’ll think of a new name for that one.’
‘Okay.’ I agree, completely contented. I rest my cheek back onto his chest and trace small circles around his golden nipple. ‘How old are you, Jesse?’
‘Twenty nine,’
I scoff, but it occurs to me, very suddenly, that I won’t have a clue when we finally reach his real age. I’m plumping for thirty four. That’s eight years past me – I can live with that.
I sigh. ‘What’s the time?’ I could do with another hour.
He shifts me from his chest. ‘I left my watch downstairs. I’ll go take a look.’
‘You need a clock in here.’ I grumble as he gets out of bed, leaving me cold and bare without him.
‘I’ll put in a complaint to the designer.’ he replies dryly.
I ignore him, turning over to snuggle down, making do with the pillow. This bed is the most comfortable I’ve ever slept in. I did well here.
‘Seven thirty.’ I hear him shout from downstairs.
I bolt upright in bed. ‘Shit!’ I jump out and race downstairs to the kitchen. ‘You’ll have to drop me at home.’
He sits, dead cool and casual on the bar stool, completely bare arsed naked, scooping peanut butter from a jar with his finger. ‘I’m a bit busy this morning.’ he says without looking at me.
Oh, the irritating pig! This is, without a doubt, a ploy to keep me here. After all, he did say I wouldn’t be walking, and I am. I’ll get the tube, it’s no bother. I scan the floor where I dropped my clothes – no clothes.
‘Where are my clothes, Jesse?’
He sticks his peanut butter covered finger into his mouth, sucking it off and pulling it slowly from his mouth on a little pop. ‘I’ve no idea.’ he says, completely straight faced and unaffected.
Where has he hid them, the little shit? They can’t be far. I stalk around his apartment, huffing and puffing, pulling open cupboard doors and looking behind furniture. I march back into the kitchen, finding him still sitting there, looking infuriatingly naked and handsome, and completely unaffected by my frenzy.
Oh, I’ve not got time for this. I can’t be late for work. ‘Where are my f**king clothes?’ I shout.
‘Watch your f**king mouth!’
I shake my head at him. He’ll have a bar of soap in my mouth next. ‘Jesse, I never swore out loud before I met you…funny, huh? I need to get home so I can get ready for work.’
‘I know you do.’ And in goes another peanut butter covered finger.
‘So, where are my clothes?’ I try calm, but if he doesn’t give me my clothes now, I’ll soon revert back to mad woman. I can’t be late.
‘They are…somewhere.’ He grins around his finger.
‘Where is somewhere?’ I ask, while thinking about how much I dislike roguish Jesse today.
‘If I tell you, you have to give me something in return.’
I feel mad woman coming on! ‘What?’ I yell.
‘Don’t drink tomorrow night.’ His face is deadpan.
I scowl at him as I watch him fighting to control a smirk from breaking out. The conniving pig! He’s got me cornered, naked, late for work and in need of a lift.
I stand, pondering his trade. If I’m honest, I wasn’t planning on getting particularly drunk, especially after my performance on Saturday. I’ve not even asked Kate if she’s free yet, but I don’t want Mr Control Freak thinking he can dictate my every move. Give him an inch and all that.
‘Fine!’ How will he know if I have a drink, anyway?
He looks shocked. ‘That was easier than I thought. What about lunch later?’
‘Okay, get my clothes!’
‘Who holds the power, Ava?’ he asks.
I don’t have time to challenge him on that. ‘You do, get my clothes!’
‘Correct.’ He struts over to the fridge – with a little extra swagger for my benefit – and opens the door. ‘Here you are, lady.’
They were in the fridge? Well, I would never have looked in there. I snatch them from his hand, and he raises a warning brow at me. I don’t care. I’m going to be so late. He watches me frantically yank my capri pants on and laughs as I hop around gasping when the freezing cold material rests on my skin.