This Man (Page 122)

He swivels around onto his back, taking me with him, so I’m sprawled across his chest. I shift slightly so I can trace a figure of eight on his stomach, lingering longer over his scar than anywhere else.

It fascinates me in a morbid kind of way, and it’s another mystery behind this man. It’s definitely not a war wound from an operation and it’s not a puncture wound or a slice. It looks far more sinister than that. The thick, jagged wave looks like someone has, literally, plunged a knife into his lower stomach and dragged it all the way around to his side. I shudder. I wouldn’t have thought anyone could survive a wound like it. He must have lost a heap of blood. Dare I press him on this?

‘Were you in the army?’ I ask quietly. This could explain it, and I’ve not asked directly.

He pauses stroking my hair briefly but continues shortly after. ‘No.’ he answers. He doesn’t ask me why I would think that. He knows what I’m getting at. ‘Leave it, Ava.’ he says in that tone – the one that makes me writher on the spot. Yeah, I’m not arguing with that voice, and I certainly don’t want to spoil the moment.

‘Why did you disappear on me?’ I ask a little apprehensively. I need to know.

‘I told you, I was a mess.’

‘Why?’ I press. His answer explains nothing. I feel him tense beneath me.

‘You spark feelings in me.’ he answers softly, and I think I might be getting somewhere.

‘What sort of feeling?’ BOOM!

He sighs. I’ve pushed my luck. ‘All sorts, Ava.’ He sounds irritated by it.

‘Is that a bad thing?’

‘It is when you don’t know how to deal with them.’ He lets out a long, tired breath of air.

I stop with my strokes. He doesn’t know how to deal with the feelings he’s having, so he tries to control me? How will that help? All sorts of feelings? This man talks in code. What does that mean, and why does he sound so frustrated by it?

‘You think I belong to you.’ I start circling my finger again.

‘No, I know you do.’

‘When did you establish that?’

‘When I spent four days trying to get you out of my head.’ He still sounds irritated, while I’m delighted with this news.

‘It didn’t work?’

‘Well, no, I was even crazier. Go to sleep.’ he orders.

‘What were you doing to try and get me out of your head?’

‘It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work, end of. Go to sleep.’

I pout to myself. I think I’ve extracted as much information as I’m going to get. Crazier? I don’t think I ever want to meet that man. All sorts of feeling? That, I think, I like the sound of.

I continue with my swirling patterns over his chest, while he strokes my hair and drops a kiss every now and then. The silence is comfortable and my eyes are getting heavy.

I pull myself further into him, resting my leg over his thigh. ‘Tell me how old you are.’ I garble into his chest.

‘No.’ he replies flatly. I screw my face up in sleepy disgust. I didn’t even get a fake age. I doze off into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of all things crazy.

Chapter 30

I wake up feeling exposed and cold, and I know immediately why. Where is he? I sit up, blowing the hair from my face, to find Jesse on the chaise lounge, bending down.

‘What are you doing?’ My throat is hoarse, not yet broken in.

He looks up and dazzles me with his smile, reserved only for women. How come he’s all bright eyed and bushy tailed? ‘I’m going for a run.’ He bends back down, and I notice he’s tying his trainers.

When he’s finished, he stands up, the full six foot three inches of lean loveliness, all the more lovely in loose, black running shorts and a marl grey vest. I lick my lips and smile admiringly. He has stubble. I could eat him.

‘I’m quite enjoying the view too.’ he says cheerfully. I snap my eyes to his, noting him staring at my chest with an arched brow and a half smile on his handsome face. I follow his gaze and find the cups of my bra are still sitting under my boobs. I leave them as they are, rolling my eyes.

‘What time is it?’ I suddenly have a stomach turning panic moment.

‘Five.’

I gape at him, all wide eyed, before dramatically collapsing back onto the bed. Five? I have at least another hour of sleep. I pull the sheets over my head and close my eyes. But I only get, roughly, three seconds of shut eye, before the sheets are whipped off of me and Jesse is in my face, a wickedly mischievous grin plastered all over his face. I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him down to me, but he pulls against me, and I end up in a standing position before I realise what’s happened.

‘You’re coming,’ he informs me, snapping the cups of my bra back over my boobs. ‘Come on.’ He turns, heading for the bathroom.

I scoff indignantly. ‘No, I’m bloody not.’ He must be mad. I don’t mind a run, but not at five in the morning. ‘I run in the evenings.’ I advise his back, falling back to the bed. I crawl to the top and snuggle back down into the pillows, locating the one that smells the most of fresh water and mint. I’m rudely interrupted from my peace when he grabs my ankle and yanks me to the bottom of the bed. ‘Hey!’ I shout. I manage to take the pillow with me. ‘I’m not coming.’

He leans over, whips the pillow away and narrows his eyes on me. ‘Yes, you are. Mornings are better. Get ready.’ He flips me over and smacks my backside.

‘I don’t have my running kit.’ I say smugly, just as a sports bag lands on the bed next to me. He brought me running kit? ‘You brought these for me?’ I ask incredulously as I sit up. That’s a bit presumptuous. Maybe I don’t like running.