This Man Part 48

His eyes meet mine in the mirror. 'Are you?'

'Yes, I'm sorry.'

'You want me to touch you?'

'Yes.'

He turns into me fast, pushing me up against the mirrored wall and completely blanketing me with his body. I feel instantly better. That wasn't too hard at all. 'You're beginning to understand, aren't you?' His lips hover over mine, his hips pushing into my lower stomach.

'I understand.' I pant.

He takes my mouth, my hands finding his shoulders, my nails digging straight into his muscles. Yes, that's much better. I meet his tongue, melting into him completely.

'Happy?' he asks, breaking our kiss.

'Yes.'

'Me too. Let's go.'

We pull up in Camden for breakfast after Jesse got his way and drove. It's a beautiful day, and I'm already too warm in my cardigan, but I'll suffer for a little longer. There's still scope for him to take me home in disgrace and make me change.

Jesse collects me from the pavement, leading me across the road to a lovely little quaint cafe. 'You'll love it here. We'll sit outside.' He pulls out a large wicker chair for me.

'Why will I love it?' I ask as I sit on the polka dot cushion.

'They do the best Eggs Benedict.' He smiles brightly at me when he sees my eyes light up.

The waitress approaches on a dribble when she spots Jesse in all his manly G.o.dliness, but he's completely oblivious.

'Can we have two of the Eggs Benedict,' He points at the menu, 'a strong black coffee and a cappuccino with an extra shot, no chocolate or sugar, please.' He turns his face up to the waitress, blasting her with one of his smiles, reserved only for women. 'Thank you.'

She appears to stagger slightly. I laugh to myself. Yes, he had that exact same affect on me.

She eventually finds her voice. 'Would you like ham or salmon with your eggs?'

He hands her the menu, taking off his Wayfarers so she gets the full impact of his stunning face. 'Salmon, please.'

I shake my head in dismay and check my phone, while the waitress makes a meal of writing out our basic order. I wonder how Victoria and Drew got on. I'm not so bothered about Tom a he's undoubtedly in love again with the latest soul mate.

'White or granary?'

'Sorry?' I glance up from my phone and find the waitress still hovering.

'Would you like white or granary bread?' Jesse repeats on a small smile.

'Oh, granary, please,'

He returns his glorious greens to the wilting waitress. 'Both granary, thank you,'

She flashes her most willing smile before finally leaving us. The woman's reaction to Jesse reminds me of how many others would have been before me. It makes me feel c.r.a.p. Was he as unreasonable and controlling with all the others? Christ, I bet there have been a few. I place my phone on the table and look across at Jesse, who's watching me closely, chewing his lip. What's he considering?

'How are your legs?' he asks, but I know that's not what's got him chomping on his bottom lip.

'Fine, do you run often?' I already know the answer to this. No one gets up in the middle of the night to run fourteen miles unless they're serious about it.

'It distracts me.' He shrugs, sitting back in his chair, his expression thoughtful.

'Distracts you from what?'

He keeps his eyes on me. 'You,'

I scoff. He's obviously not running very much at the moment then, because he's spending most of his time trampling all over me. 'Why do you need distracting from me?'

'Because, Ava...' He sighs. 'I can't seem to stay away from you and, more worryingly, I don't won't to.' His tone harbours frustration. Is he frustrated with me or with himself?

The waitress places our coffees on the table and lingers for a while, but she doesn't get blessed with another knock out smile. He's focused on me alone. His statement is bitter sweet. I'm delighted that he can't stay away from me, but slightly affronted that it seems to annoy him.

'Why would that be worrying?' I ask nonchalantly, while stirring my cappuccino and mentally pleading for some satisfactory answers. After a few moments have pa.s.sed, he still hasn't answered so I glance up, discovering the cogs whirling at a hundred miles an hour and his bottom lip getting a punishing chew.

He eventually exhales noisily, dropping his eyes. 'It's worrying because I feel out of control,' He returns his eyes to me, penetrating me with his fixed, green stare. 'Feeling out of control is not something I do well, Ava. Not where you're concerned.'

Ah! Is he admitting that he's a complete unreasonable control freak? It's b.l.o.o.d.y obvious that he doesn't cope when he's defied a I've seen hard evidence of that.

'If you were more reasonable, you wouldn't feel out of control very often. Are you like this with all your women?'

His eyes widen, then narrow. 'I've never cared enough about anyone else to feel like this,' He picks up his coffee. 'It's just f.u.c.king typical that I would go and find the most defiant woman on the planet to...'

'Try and control?' I raise my eyebrows at him, and he deepens his scowl on me. 'What about other relationships?'

'I don't have relationships. I'm not interested in getting involved. Anyway, I don't have time.'

'You've devoted enough time to trampling all over me.' I blurt over my coffee cup. If this isn't involved, then I don't know what is.

He shakes his head. 'You're different. I told you, Ava, I'll trample anyone who tries to get in my way. Even you.'

This I know. I've been trampled already when I refused to stay in. I'm glad my trampling ritual is a little different to that of others who have had the pleasure. Poor c.o.c.kney springs to mind immediately. He's not interested in relationships? Where's this going then?

Our breakfast lands on the table, smelling divine. Tucking in, I ponder his declaration of being out of control. The solution is pretty simple a stop being so unreasonable and challenging. He'll keel over from a stress induced heart attack if he carries on the way he has.

'Why am I so different?' I ask. My voice is small.

He calves his way through his salmon. 'I don't know, Ava.' he says quietly.

'You don't know much, do you?' It's all he b.l.o.o.d.y says when I try and determine a reason for his controlling ways. I spark "all sorts of feelings". What am I supposed to make of all this?

'I know that I've never wanted to f.u.c.k a woman more than once. You, though, I really do.'

I recoil in horror, nearly choking on a piece of toast.

He has the decency to look apologetic. 'That came out wrong.' He puts his fork down, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. 'What I'm trying to say is that...well...I've never cared about a woman enough to want more than s.e.x. Not until I met you,' His head rub gets more aggressive. 'I can't explain it, but you felt it, didn't you?' He looks at me. I think I see desperation for confirmation. 'When we met, you felt it.'

I smile lightly. 'Yes, I felt it.' I'll never forget it.

His expression changes instantly a he's smiling again. 'Eat your breakfast.' He points his fork at my plate, and I resign myself to living without the knowledge I so desperately want. If he doesn't know, there's not much chance of me ever knowing. Would it make it easier to cope with him if I knew what made his complex mind tick?

Regardless, he's just a in not so many words a told me that he wants more than s.e.x, hasn't he? So, he cares about me. Does care equal control? And he's never had a relationship? I can't believe that for a second. Women throw themselves at this man. He can't just screw them all once, surely? Christ, if he's never f.u.c.ked a woman more than once, how many have there been? I'm just about to ask this question, but I halt mid-inhale. Do I want to know? I've been sleeping with this man with no protection, and even though he's told me that he's never not worn a condom a except with me a should I believe him?

'We need to buy you a dress for The Manor's anniversary party.' he declares, in an obvious tactic to distract me from my pressing questions and thoughts. I'm sure he knows what I'm thinking.

'I have plenty of dresses.' I sound really unenthusiastic, which is fine, because I am. I'm only half comforted by the fact that Kate will be there to help me through an evening of Sarah glaring at me and pa.s.sing sly remarks. Has he f.u.c.ked Sarah? I imagine it's possible if he only f.u.c.ks women once. The thought makes me stab at my breakfast a little too harshly.

He frowns. 'You need a new one.' It's that tone that dares me to challenge him.

I sigh at the prospect of, yet another, wardrobe argument. I've more than enough options without buying a new dress. Besides, even if I didn't, I'd find something just to avoid a shopping trip with Jesse.

'Anyway, I owe you one.' He reaches over the table, pushing a loose tendril of hair behind my ear.

Yes, he does owe me one, but I don't want it because I doubt I'll have any say in what dress he buys me. 'Do I get to choose?'

'Of course,' He places his knife and fork on his plate. 'I'm not a complete control freak.'

I nearly drop my cutlery. Is he winding me up? 'Jesse, you're really very special.' I load my voice with all the sweetness the statement deserves.

'Not as special as you,' He winks at me. 'Are you ready to hit Camden, baby?'

I nod, fishing my purse from my bag, while he watches me with a bewildered look. I put a twenty under the salt shaker on the table and observe as he stands on an exaggerated huff, digs into his pocket and replaces my money with his, s.n.a.t.c.hing my purse from my hand and stuffing my note back inside.

Control freak!

My phone starts dancing around the table, but before I can even instruct my brain to pick it up, Jesse has s.n.a.t.c.hed it from under my nose. 'h.e.l.lo?' he greets the mystery caller.

I look at him in disbelief. He really doesn't have any phone manners. Who is it, anyway?

'Mrs O'Shea?' he says coolly.

My mouth falls open. No! Not my Mother! I try to s.n.a.t.c.h my phone back from him, but he dances away from me with a wicked grin on his maddeningly handsome face.

'I have the pleasure of being with your beautiful daughter.' he informs my mother. I move around the table, and he shifts the other way, frowning at me.

I clench my teeth and wave my hand frantically at him, but he just raises his eyebrows and shakes his head slowly.

'Yes, Ava has told me lots about you, I'll look forward to meeting you.'

Oh, the irritating t.w.a.t! I've not mentioned much at all to Jesse about my parents, and I certainly haven't mentioned him to them. Oh G.o.d, this is all I need. Glaring at him, I reach over, but he jumps back.

'Yes, I'll put her on. It was lovely to talk to you.'

He hands me the phone, and I seize it from his hand with a vicious swipe. 'Mum?'

'Ava, who was that?' My Mum sounds as mystified as I expected her to be. I'm supposed to be young, free and single in London, and now strange men are answering my phone. I narrow my eyes on Jesse, who's looking rather proud of himself.

'He's just a friend, Mum. What's up?'

Jesse clutches at his heart, pulling a wounded soldier impersonation, but his annoyed facial expression doesn't match his playful act a not in the slightest. I hear my Mother hum in disapproval. I can't believe he's just done that, the arrogant a.r.s.e. And with everything else I have to poke up with, now I have the added bonus of my mother whittling that I'm jumping into another relationship too soon.

'Matt called me.' she states flatly.

I turn away from Jesse to try and hide my wide eyed look. Why has Matt called my mother? s.h.i.t! I can't talk about this now, not in front of Jesse. 'Mum, can I call you back? I'm in Camden, it's loud.' My shoulders. .h.i.t my earlobes at the feel of Jesse's eyes chiseling away at my back.

'Yes, I just wanted you to know. He was all friendly, it doesn't sit well.' She sounds furious.

'Okay, I'll call you later.'

'Fine, and remember, carefree fun.' She adds the last bit in a blatant reminder of my status a whatever that is.

I turn back to Jesse, finding the expression I knew I would: very unhappy. 'Why did you do that?' I yell.

'He's just a friend? Do you often let friends f.u.c.k your brain out?'

My shoulders sag in defeat. The man's constant change in reference to our relationship is burning my brain. He f.u.c.ks me; he cares for me; he controls me... 'Is it your mission objective to make my life as difficult as possible?'

His eyes soften. 'No,' he says quietly. 'I'm sorry.'

Good G.o.d, do we have a breakthrough? Has he just apologised for being an a.r.s.e? I'm more stunned now than when he hijacked my phone and greeted my mother like she was an old friend. He said himself he doesn't offer apologies very often, but considering he doesn't like apologising, he's doing a lot of crazy stuff that warrants one.

'Forget about it.' I sigh, shoving my phone in my bag. I start walking down the street, towards the ca.n.a.l. His arm is wrapped around my shoulder within seconds. My poor mother is probably giving my Dad ear ache right at this very moment. I know I'll be hit with twenty questions later. And as for Matt...well, I know his game. He's trying to b.u.t.ter up the parents, the slimy little worm. He'll be sorely disappointed. My parents openly dislike him now, as appose to putting up with him for my sake.

We spend the rest of the morning, and well into the afternoon, wandering around Camden. I love it here a the diversity is the best London has to offer. I could lose myself for hours in the cobbled back streets of the markets and stables. Jesse humours me while I poke about on the stalls, keeping close and constantly touching me. I'm so glad I apologised.

We walk through the food quarter, and I can't take the heat anymore. It's not particularly hot, but with all the tourists and crowds, I'm feeling stifled. I remove my bag from across my body, taking my cardigan off to wrap it around my waist.

'Ava, your dress is missing a huge chunk!'

I turn around on a smile, finding him gaping at the cut out section of my dress. What's he going to do? Undress me and cut it up?

'No, it's the design.' I inform him, tying my cardigan around my waist and replacing my bag over my body. He turns me around, pulling my cardigan further up my body in an attempt to conceal the revealed flesh. 'Will you stop?' I laugh, wriggling free.

'Do you do this on purpose?' he snaps, arranging his big palm in the centre of my back.

'If you want full length skirts and polo neck jumpers, then I suggest you find someone your own age.' I mutter as he starts guiding me through the crowds with his hand firmly in place. I earn myself a dig in the ribs for my cheek. He'll have me in a Burka next.

'How old do you think I am?' he asks incredulously.

'Well, I don't know, do I?' I toss back at him. 'Do you want to relieve me of my wondering?'

He scoffs. 'No.'

'No, I didn't think so.' I mutter. Something catches my attention. I quickly detour to a stall full of scented candles and all things hippy. I hear Jesse cursing behind me, barging through the crowds to keep up with me.