This Man
Page 63
My shoulders drop slightly. It’s just easier, all round, if I give him what he wants and get out of his hair. I reach him, trying my hardest to put on a cheerful face. I know I’m failing miserably.
‘Kiss me.’ he orders, his hands draped casually in his jean pockets. I reach up on tiptoes and push my lips against his, ensuring I make it more than a peck. He doesn’t respond. ‘Kiss me like you mean it, Ava.’
He’s not buying my half-hearted attempt to satisfy him. I sigh. I’ve got a tray in my hands, my bag over my shoulder and a pad and pencil buried under the tray. This is proving to be tricky, especially when he’s not assisting. I place the tray and drawing equipment on his desk and delve my hands into his hair, pulling his face down to mine. It takes a nanosecond for him to respond. Once our lips meet, he takes me completely, his arms snaking around my waist as he bends slightly to accommodate our height difference. I don’t want to enjoy it, but I do – way too much.
‘Better,’ he says against my lips. ‘Never hold out on me, Ava.’ He releases me, leaving me feeling slightly dizzy and disorientated. Someone knocks on the door. ‘Go.’ He nods at the door.
I collect my things and leave without a word. I’ve got a proper sulk on. I’m on stupidly dangerous ground here, and I know it. This man has broken heart written all over him.
I open the office door and find Big John waiting for me. He nods, taking up position beside me to escort me upstairs.
‘I know where I’m going, John.’ I offer. He doesn’t have to flank me all of the way.
‘S’all good, girl.’ he rumbles, continuing his long strides besides me to the stairs.
When we reach the stained glass window at the bottom of the stairs to the third floor, I glance up the wide staircase. At the top, there’s a set of wooden doors with pretty circle symbols calved into the wood. They’re closed and quite intimidating.
What’s up there? It could be a function room. I’m distracted from the imposing vastness of wood when I hear a door open. I look over the landing, seeing a man walking out of a guest suite doing his flies up. He looks up, catching me staring. My face flames as I look at John, who’s eyeing up the guy, shaking his head menacingly. A wave of worry washes over the guests face, and I scuttle off through the archway that leads to the extension to try and escape the embarrassing situation. John did not look impressed. Why men think it’s acceptable to exit toilets and hotel rooms still arranging themselves is beyond me.
I let myself into the furthest room. With the lack of furniture, I slide down the wall to my bum.
John pokes his head around the door. ‘Ring Jesse if you need anything.’ he grunts.
‘I can go find him.’
‘No, ring Jesse.’ he affirms, closing the door.
So, if I need the toilet, have I got to ring Jesse then? I should have stayed at home.
Gazing around the shell of a room, I start nibbling at the salmon bagel, which I reluctantly admit is lovely. I try to recall my specification. What did he say? Oh, yes – sensual, stimulating and invigorating. It’s not my normal brief, but I can work with it. I pick up the pad, slide a pencil out of the tin and begin sketching large, lavish beds and sumptuous window dressings. Losing myself in some sketching is the perfect way to divert my mind from the more troubling thoughts that are currently swamping my poor brain.
A few hours later, my arse is dead and I have a rough draft of an amazing bedroom. I flick the pencil over the paper, shading and blending here and there. Okay, now that’s sensual. He said a big bed was essential, and the huge four-poster, positioned in the middle of the room, screams luxury and sensuality. I study the picture, blushing at my own work. Jesus, it’s almost erotic. Where has that come from? Maybe it’s all the incredible sex I’ve been having. The bed dominating the room is a replica of one that I spotted at a reclamation yard a few months ago. With massive, chunky, wooden posts and a lattice style canopy, it’ll look amazing with gold silk dressing it. I don’t know what to put on the walls because Jesse didn’t elaborate further than large, wooden wall hangings – probably something resembling what I saw in the other suite when Jesse cornered me.
My line of thought is interrupted when the door opens and I’m presented with Sarah’s pouty face. I inwardly groan. The woman is everywhere – everywhere Jesse is.
‘Ava, what a pleasant surprise,’
Liar!
She shuts the door softly behind her and walks into the middle of the room. My unkind thoughts have me wishing she would take a tumble in those ridiculous heels. I really don’t like this woman. She brings out my inner bitch better than anyone I’ve ever known before.
‘Sarah. It’s nice to see you.’ I clasp a lock of my hair and start fiddling with it, as I consider her motives for paying me a visit. She looks down at me sat on the floor. I notice her pouty, red lips look super inflated today. She’s definitely had work there. My sitting position, in relation to her standing position, has me feeling inferior to her. I’d get up, if my backside wasn’t numb and I could be sure I wouldn’t crumble back down to the floor in a heap.
‘Working on a Sunday,’ she muses as she gazes around the empty room. ‘Do all of your clients get the same special treatment you offer Jesse?’
Oh, what a bitch! Her motive is suddenly very clear. ‘No,’ I smile, ‘Just Jesse.’ My unkind thoughts are justified. She really dislikes me, as opposed to just disliking me. She could possibly even hate me. Why?
‘He’s a bit mature for you, isn’t he?’ She folds her arms under her ample chest, and I conclude that she’s probably had those done too.
I don’t want her to know that I’m unaware of Jesse’s age. She undoubtedly knows. And the fact that she does and I don’t, really bristles me.
‘I don’t think so.’ I retort sweetly. I really want to get up from the floor so the nasty bit of work isn’t looking down at me. What’s it got to do with her?
Her pouty face displays an abundance of displeasure at me being here and that, strangely, has me feeling displeased about being here too. I should have stayed at home. I don’t need this
‘So, what is it about my Jesse that has you giving up your free time to work?’
My Jesse?
‘I’m not sure what business that is of yours.’
‘Maybe, it’s his money?’ She raises her already stupidly arched eyebrow. Botox!
‘I’m not interested in Jesse’s wealth.’ I retaliate shortly. I’m in love with him!
‘Of course, you’re not.’ She wanders over to the window, casually and cockily, before turning back to face me, her face as cold as her voice. ‘Be warned, Ava. Jesse is not the sort of man you build your dreams on.’
I stare her straight in the eye, trying to mimic her cold face and tone. It’s not hard – it comes naturally with this horrible woman. ‘Thank you for the warning, but I think I’m grown up enough to decide who I build my dreams on.’ My heart has taken a nose dive into my stomach.
She scoffs mildly. It’s in pity. It makes me feel crap. ‘Little girl, jump out of your fairy tale and open your e…’
The door opens and Jesse strides in. He looks at me slumped on the floor and at Sarah stood at the window. ‘All right?’ he asks Sarah.
‘Kiss me.’ he orders, his hands draped casually in his jean pockets. I reach up on tiptoes and push my lips against his, ensuring I make it more than a peck. He doesn’t respond. ‘Kiss me like you mean it, Ava.’
He’s not buying my half-hearted attempt to satisfy him. I sigh. I’ve got a tray in my hands, my bag over my shoulder and a pad and pencil buried under the tray. This is proving to be tricky, especially when he’s not assisting. I place the tray and drawing equipment on his desk and delve my hands into his hair, pulling his face down to mine. It takes a nanosecond for him to respond. Once our lips meet, he takes me completely, his arms snaking around my waist as he bends slightly to accommodate our height difference. I don’t want to enjoy it, but I do – way too much.
‘Better,’ he says against my lips. ‘Never hold out on me, Ava.’ He releases me, leaving me feeling slightly dizzy and disorientated. Someone knocks on the door. ‘Go.’ He nods at the door.
I collect my things and leave without a word. I’ve got a proper sulk on. I’m on stupidly dangerous ground here, and I know it. This man has broken heart written all over him.
I open the office door and find Big John waiting for me. He nods, taking up position beside me to escort me upstairs.
‘I know where I’m going, John.’ I offer. He doesn’t have to flank me all of the way.
‘S’all good, girl.’ he rumbles, continuing his long strides besides me to the stairs.
When we reach the stained glass window at the bottom of the stairs to the third floor, I glance up the wide staircase. At the top, there’s a set of wooden doors with pretty circle symbols calved into the wood. They’re closed and quite intimidating.
What’s up there? It could be a function room. I’m distracted from the imposing vastness of wood when I hear a door open. I look over the landing, seeing a man walking out of a guest suite doing his flies up. He looks up, catching me staring. My face flames as I look at John, who’s eyeing up the guy, shaking his head menacingly. A wave of worry washes over the guests face, and I scuttle off through the archway that leads to the extension to try and escape the embarrassing situation. John did not look impressed. Why men think it’s acceptable to exit toilets and hotel rooms still arranging themselves is beyond me.
I let myself into the furthest room. With the lack of furniture, I slide down the wall to my bum.
John pokes his head around the door. ‘Ring Jesse if you need anything.’ he grunts.
‘I can go find him.’
‘No, ring Jesse.’ he affirms, closing the door.
So, if I need the toilet, have I got to ring Jesse then? I should have stayed at home.
Gazing around the shell of a room, I start nibbling at the salmon bagel, which I reluctantly admit is lovely. I try to recall my specification. What did he say? Oh, yes – sensual, stimulating and invigorating. It’s not my normal brief, but I can work with it. I pick up the pad, slide a pencil out of the tin and begin sketching large, lavish beds and sumptuous window dressings. Losing myself in some sketching is the perfect way to divert my mind from the more troubling thoughts that are currently swamping my poor brain.
A few hours later, my arse is dead and I have a rough draft of an amazing bedroom. I flick the pencil over the paper, shading and blending here and there. Okay, now that’s sensual. He said a big bed was essential, and the huge four-poster, positioned in the middle of the room, screams luxury and sensuality. I study the picture, blushing at my own work. Jesus, it’s almost erotic. Where has that come from? Maybe it’s all the incredible sex I’ve been having. The bed dominating the room is a replica of one that I spotted at a reclamation yard a few months ago. With massive, chunky, wooden posts and a lattice style canopy, it’ll look amazing with gold silk dressing it. I don’t know what to put on the walls because Jesse didn’t elaborate further than large, wooden wall hangings – probably something resembling what I saw in the other suite when Jesse cornered me.
My line of thought is interrupted when the door opens and I’m presented with Sarah’s pouty face. I inwardly groan. The woman is everywhere – everywhere Jesse is.
‘Ava, what a pleasant surprise,’
Liar!
She shuts the door softly behind her and walks into the middle of the room. My unkind thoughts have me wishing she would take a tumble in those ridiculous heels. I really don’t like this woman. She brings out my inner bitch better than anyone I’ve ever known before.
‘Sarah. It’s nice to see you.’ I clasp a lock of my hair and start fiddling with it, as I consider her motives for paying me a visit. She looks down at me sat on the floor. I notice her pouty, red lips look super inflated today. She’s definitely had work there. My sitting position, in relation to her standing position, has me feeling inferior to her. I’d get up, if my backside wasn’t numb and I could be sure I wouldn’t crumble back down to the floor in a heap.
‘Working on a Sunday,’ she muses as she gazes around the empty room. ‘Do all of your clients get the same special treatment you offer Jesse?’
Oh, what a bitch! Her motive is suddenly very clear. ‘No,’ I smile, ‘Just Jesse.’ My unkind thoughts are justified. She really dislikes me, as opposed to just disliking me. She could possibly even hate me. Why?
‘He’s a bit mature for you, isn’t he?’ She folds her arms under her ample chest, and I conclude that she’s probably had those done too.
I don’t want her to know that I’m unaware of Jesse’s age. She undoubtedly knows. And the fact that she does and I don’t, really bristles me.
‘I don’t think so.’ I retort sweetly. I really want to get up from the floor so the nasty bit of work isn’t looking down at me. What’s it got to do with her?
Her pouty face displays an abundance of displeasure at me being here and that, strangely, has me feeling displeased about being here too. I should have stayed at home. I don’t need this
‘So, what is it about my Jesse that has you giving up your free time to work?’
My Jesse?
‘I’m not sure what business that is of yours.’
‘Maybe, it’s his money?’ She raises her already stupidly arched eyebrow. Botox!
‘I’m not interested in Jesse’s wealth.’ I retaliate shortly. I’m in love with him!
‘Of course, you’re not.’ She wanders over to the window, casually and cockily, before turning back to face me, her face as cold as her voice. ‘Be warned, Ava. Jesse is not the sort of man you build your dreams on.’
I stare her straight in the eye, trying to mimic her cold face and tone. It’s not hard – it comes naturally with this horrible woman. ‘Thank you for the warning, but I think I’m grown up enough to decide who I build my dreams on.’ My heart has taken a nose dive into my stomach.
She scoffs mildly. It’s in pity. It makes me feel crap. ‘Little girl, jump out of your fairy tale and open your e…’
The door opens and Jesse strides in. He looks at me slumped on the floor and at Sarah stood at the window. ‘All right?’ he asks Sarah.
