This Man Part 39

'What about screaming for me?'

My eyes widen in shock. 'Neither.'

'That may make business a little tricky.' he pouts, his lips dancing at the corners.

'Will it be business, Mr Ward, or pleasure?'

'Pleasure, all the way.' he answers darkly.

'You do realise that you're paying for me to have s.e.x with you,' I whisper on a hiss. 'That, in effect, makes me a hooker!'

I watch as a flash of anger pa.s.ses over his face and he shoots forward in his chair. 'Shut up, Ava.' he warns. 'And just so you know, you will be screaming later,' He leans back again. 'When we make friends,'

I sigh heavily. It would be better, all-round, if I dropped this contract, right now. Patrick will keel over with shock, but either way, I'm totally knackered. Continue like this, I'm bound to be rumbled. Then he really will get to f.u.c.k me when he pleases. I'm losing control here. Losing control? I laugh to myself. Have I ever had control since this beautiful man trampled into my life?

'Is something funny?' he asks seriously.

I make a meal of flicking though the pages of my diary harshly. 'Yes, my life,' I mutter. 'When shall I pencil you in?'

'I don't want to be pencilled in anywhere, pencil can be erased.' His tone is smooth and confident. I look up from my diary and find a large, permanent, black marker pen being waved under my nose. 'Every day.' he states calmly.

'Every day? Don't be so stupid!' I blurt a bit too loudly.

He gives me his roguish grin as he removes the lid from the marker. Reaching over, making a point of brushing his fingers over my hand, he pulls my diary away from me. I shiver, and he gives me that knowing look. Turning to tomorrow's page in my diary, he coolly runs a line through the middle, writing "Mr Ward" across the page in big, black letters. He then skims past the weekend. 'You're mine then, anyway.' he muses to himself.

What? Am I? Who says?

He arrives at Monday's page and finds my ten o'clock appointment with Mrs Kent. Locating an eraser from my desk tidy, he slowly rubs it out, looking up at me when he leans down to blow the fragments of rubber from the page. He's really enjoying this, while I'm sat back in my chair watching him trample all over my work diary, at the same time trying to gage how serious he is. I fear he's completely serious.

He proceeds to put a big, black line through Monday as well. What is he doing? I glance around the office, noticing my colleagues have got bored of the Jesse and Ava show, knuckling down with some work instead.

'What are you doing?' I ask calmly.

He pauses, looking up at me. 'I'm making my appointments.'

'You're not happy enough controlling the social aspect of my life?' I'm surprised at how calm I sound. I feel completely ram raided. This man has untold front and confidence. 'I thought you didn't make appointments to f.u.c.k me?'

'Watch your mouth,' he cautions me. 'I've told you before, Ava. I'll do whatever it takes.'

'For what?' My voice is barely a whisper.

'To keep you,'

He wants to keep me? What? For s.e.x or more? I don't ask that, though. 'What if I don't want to be kept?' I ask instead.

'But you do, by me. This is why I'm having such a hard time trying to figure out why you keep fighting me off.' He returns his attention to my diary and sets about putting a line through every day for the rest of the academic year.

When he reaches the end, he slams it shut and stands. His confidence knows no bounds. And how does he know I want to be kept by him? Maybe, I don't. Christ, I'm trying to lie to myself now. I'm going to have to buy a new dairy. I mentally applaud myself for backing up my appointments on my email calendar, a precautionary measure in case I lost my diary, not because some unreasonable control freak might erase them all from my planner.

'What time will you be finished work?' he asks.

'Six-ish,' I can't believe I've just answered that without a second's hesitation.

'-ish,' he mouths, putting his hand out over my desk. He wants me to shake his hand? I reach up, mentally demanding my hand not to tremble, and place it gently in his. The familiar fizzle flies through me when our hands connect, his fingers brushing gently over my wrist as he slowly strokes down the centre of my palm.

My eyes fly up to his. 'See?' he whispers, before pulling away and striding out of my office, collecting an envelope from Sally's outstretched hand on the way.

Holy f.u.c.king h.e.l.l! My heart is convulsing in my chest, and I'm breaking out in an uncomfortable sweat as I sit at my desk, frantically fanning my burning face with my coffee coaster. How does he do these things to me? Tom looks over at me with wide eyes and a whoa stare. I blow out a long, lung full of air in an attempt to regulate my hammering heart. He wants to keep me? What? Keep me and control me, keep me to love me or keep me to f.u.c.k me senseless? He's already f.u.c.ked me pretty senseless. He must have, because I keep going back for more. No, I don't keep going back. I keep getting forced back. Is he forcing me, or do I go willingly? Oh, I don't even know anymore. Oh Lord, I'm a f.u.c.king mess!

I start folding away my drawings of The Life Building before pulling my email calendar up so I can start transferring my appointments back into my diary.

Oh, I'm in some major deep s.h.i.t. But he's totally right...I do want to be kept by him. I'm completely addicted.

I need him.

Chapter 28.

I'm the last to leave the office. I set the alarm, lock the office door behind me and jump out of my skin when I hear the familiar scream of a high powered engine. I turn around, seeing Jesse pull up to the kerb on his bike. I sigh, my shoulders slumping dramatically. I don't even know if I'm p.i.s.sed anymore. Mental exhaustion has engulfed me. But I do know that I'm grateful Patrick has already left the building.

He takes his helmet off, dismounts from his bike and approaches me looking like he's had a perfectly normal day. I feel defeated as I look up at him.

'Good day at work?' he asks.

I gape. He's so thick skinned. 'Not really.' I answer on a frown, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

He observes me for a while, chewing his bottom lip, the cogs kicking into action. I hope he's thinking about how unreasonable he's been.

'Can I make it better?' he asks as he reaches for my arm and slides his warm palm down until he's clasping my hand.

'I don't know, can you?'

'I think I definitely can.' He smiles, and I drop my head. 'I'll always make it better, remember that.' he adds confidently.

I give myself whiplash when I snap my head up to look at him. 'But you made it s.h.i.tty in the first place!'

He pouts, hanging his head. I think he's ashamed. Good. He should be. 'I can't help it.' He shrugs guiltily.

'Of course you can!' I exclaim.

'No, with you, I can't help it,' he states in a matter-of-fact tone a a tone that suggests he completely gets it. I, however, never will. 'Come here.' He pulls me over to his bike and presents me with a large paper bag.

'What's this?' I ask, looking into the bag.

'You'll need them.' He reaches into the bag and pulls out a pile of black leather.

Oh, no! 'Jesse, I'm not getting on that thing.'

He ignores me, unfolding the trousers and kneeling in front of me, holding them open for me to step into. He taps my ankle. 'On.'

'No!' He can give me a sense f.u.c.k or the countdown all he likes a it's not happening. No way. h.e.l.l will freeze over. He's trampled all over my day, and now he wants to kill me on that death trap?

He heaves a tired breath and rises to his feet. 'Listen to me, lady.' He cups my cheek with his palm. 'Do you honestly think I would let anything happen to you?'

I look at his soft eyes, clearly trying to rea.s.sure me. No, I don't think he would let anything happen to me, but what about all of the other road users? They don't give a toss about little old me on the back of that death trap. I'll fall off, I know it.

'They scare me.' I admit. I'm such a baby.

He bends down, getting nose to nose with me, his minty breath soothing me. 'Do you trust me?'

'Yes.' I answer immediately. I trust him with my life. It's my sanity I don't trust him with.

He nods, dropping a kiss on the end of my nose before kneeling back down in front of me. I lift my foot when he taps my ankle, my heart flickering with nervousness as he removes my ballet pumps, feeds my feet into the trousers and pulls the leathers up my body, fastening them swiftly. Next, he collects a fitted, leather jacket and takes my bag before putting the jacket on me, followed by a pair of boots.

'Take the pins out your hair.' he orders, putting my pumps and my new taboo dress in my oversized work bag. I'm surprised he didn't throw it to the ground and trample all over it.

I reach up and start removing my grips. 'Where are your leathers?'

'I don't need them.'

'Why, are you indestructible?'

He holds the helmet above my head. 'No, lady, self-destructible.'

Huh? 'What does that mean?'

'Nothing,' He dismisses my question and pushes the helmet onto my head, effectively shutting me up. He starts adjusting the chin strap, leaving me feeling like my head's been squeezed into a condom. I flex my neck from side to side, and he flips the visor up.

'You should wear protective clothing.' I admonish him. 'You're making me.'

'I'm not prepared to take any risks with you. Anyway...' He smacks my a.r.s.e, 'you look f.u.c.king hot.' He lengthens the strap on my bag, putting it across my body and around my back. 'When I'm on, put your left foot on the peg and swing your right leg over, okay?'

I nod, and he puts his own helmet on. I watch, admiringly as he swings his long leg over, starts the bike and stands it up between his powerful thighs. I'm s.h.i.tting myself. He looks at me as I stand on the pavement and nods his instruction for me to climb on. I reluctantly step forward, place my hand on his shoulder and follow through on his instructions, vaulting my right leg over, soon finding myself straddling his waist.

'I feel too high.'

He turns his head. 'You're fine. Now, hold on around my waist but not too tight. When I lean, gently lean with me and don't put your feet down when I stop. Keep them on the pegs. Clear?'

I nod. 'Okay.' Oh s.h.i.t, what am I doing?

'Put your visor down.' he orders, flipping his own into position.

I do as I'm bid and lean forward, hugging my arms around his chest and squeezing my knees on either side of his hips. I feel like a national hunt jockey. My nerves are all over the place, but there's a little excitement lingering somewhere.

The vibrations of the engine travel through me as Jesse revs the engine, backing onto the road with his feet. Then slowly and smoothly, he pulls into the traffic. My heart is hammering in my chest, my thighs gripping his hips stupidly hard. I loosen my clench slightly when my arms and legs begin to ache. I'm not ignorant to the fact that he's obviously taking it easy with me on board, and I love him all the more for it. He brakes lightly, takes corners smoothly and I find myself naturally mimicking the bikes movements. I love it. This is a complete surprise; I've always hated motorbikes.

As we break the city limits, I have no idea where we're going, but I don't care. My arms and legs are wrapped around my solid hunk of male, and with the rush on air speeding past me, I feel completely exhilarated. Until I recognise the road leading to The Manor. My joy instantly dampens. After the day I've had, it would be just perfect for it to end on a helping of old pouty lips. I give myself a mental pep talk, telling myself to rise above her obvious jealousy and bitterness. What I would like to know most, though, is why she's behaving like this? Has Jesse had a relationship with her?

The iron gates at the entrance of the grounds open as Jesse pulls off of the main road and proceeds down the gravel driveway to The Manor, braking gently until we come to a stop.

He flips his visor up. 'Off you get.'

I swing my leg over, rather elegantly, and land on the gravel to the side of the bike. Jesse kicks the stand down and shuts the bike off before dismounting with complete ease and taking his helmet off, his blonde hair all rough and dishevelled from the friction. He runs his hands through it and places his helmet on the seat before taking mine off. He looks at me hesitantly when my face is revealed. He's worried I didn't like it. I grin, launching myself at him, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

He laughs. 'There's that grin. Did you enjoy that?' He holds me with one arm, placing my helmet next to his, then clasps me with both hands.

I lean back to get his face in my line of vision. 'I want one.'

'Forget it! Not a f.u.c.king chance in h.e.l.l. Never, no way,' He shakes his head, his expression pure dread. 'Only ever with me.'

'I loved it.' I tighten my grip around his neck, pulling myself back into him and lowering my lips to his. He moans approvingly as I coax his mouth open, landing him with a deep, moist and pa.s.sionate kiss. 'Thank you.'

He bites lightly on my bottom lip. 'Hmmm. You're more than welcome, baby.'

I've completely lost sight of my doubts. When he's like this, it kind of trumps his unreasonable, controlling ways. It's crazy. 'Why are we here?' I ask. I can't help the pang of disappointment at ending my amazing bike ride at The Manor.

'I've got a few things to sort out. You can have something to eat while we're here.' He lowers me to the ground. 'Then I'm taking you home, lady.' He brushes my hair from my face.

'I've got nothing with me.' I'll need to shoot home and pick some things up.

'Sam's here. He brought some of your stuff from Kate's.' He grabs my hand, pulling me towards The Manor. Sam brought my stuff? That was very forward thinking of him. Oh, please tell me that Kate packed it. The thought of Sam's cheeky grin as he ploughs through my underwear drawer has me blushing on the spot.

Jesse leads me up the steps, through the doors into the entrance hall. It sounds busy tonight, with laughter and chatter coming from the restaurant and bar. We bypa.s.s both, heading straight for Jesse's office. I'm relieved. Avoiding a certain acid tongued pout is top of my list of things to achieve this evening.

As we pa.s.s through the summer room, a few groups of people are gathered, relaxing on the plush sofas, drinks in hand. I'm not ignorant to the fact that all conversation halts as soon as they spot us. The men raise their drinks, and the women smooth their hair, straighten their backs and plaster ridiculous smiles on their faces. The smiles soon disappear when they direct their stares on me, fully clad in leather, being pulled behind him. I feel scrutinised. I'm placing my bets that The Manor is not every female's preference simply because of the luxurious accommodation and surroundings.

'Good evening.' Jesse nods as we pa.s.s swiftly.

A chorus of greetings flood my ears, all of the men acknowledging me with a smile or a nod, but all of the women throwing suspicious glares. I feel like public enemy number one. What's their problem?

'Jesse,' I hear Big John's low rumble up ahead. I drag my eyes from the crowd of angry women, giving me the once over, to find John coming out of Jesse's office. He nods at me, and I find myself nodding back. What role does he play here? He looks like the mafia personified.

'Any problems?' Jesse asks, leading me into his office.

John follows and shuts the door behind him. 'Small issue in the communal room, now resolved.' His deep voice is monotone. 'Someone got a bit excited.'

I frown, looking at Jesse. What's a communal room? I see Jesse mildly shake his head at John before flicking cautious eyes to me.

'S'all good, I'll be in the surveillance suite.' He turns and leaves.

'What's a communal room?' I can't keep the interest from my tone. I've never heard of such a thing.

He yanks me towards him by the collar of my leather jacket and removes my bag, taking my mouth possessively, completely distracting me from my question. 'I like you in leather,' he muses as he unzips the jacket, pushing it down my arms slowly and chucking it on the sofa. 'But I love you in lace.' He undoes the zipper of the leather trousers as he circles my nose with his. 'Always in lace,'