Beneath This Man

‘I’ve got it, Clive.’ Jesse tries his best to sound unaffected, but I’m not sure he pulls it off. We get into the elevator and the surrounding mirrors bounce our reflection off in every direction. Everywhere I look, I can see Jesse’s disturbed face and my fragile body wrapped around him. I close my eyes and let my head go heavy on his shoulder, feeling the motions of his long, easy strides as he carries me from the elevator, through the penthouse and to the master-suite.

‘Easy.’ He lowers me to the bed on my front.

My arms slide under the pillow and I sink my head into the softness, taking a small comforting inhale of Jesse’s scent. I feel my jeans being pulled from my legs and a few moments later, Jesse is lying next to me, mirroring my position. He keeps one hand free and reaches over to smooth his palm over my cheek, no doubt getting the contact he always needs. It’s all he can do. There will be no flipping me onto my back or thrusting me up against the wall anytime soon.

We lay forever, just gazing across at each other. It’s comfortable. No words need to be said. I let him caress my face and I fight my eyes heaviness for a short while before he runs his thumbs over my lids and they don’t re-open.

Chapter 32

I know if I stretch, I’ll yelp really loud. The overwhelming need to spread myself out is playing havoc with my natural instinct to remain still and curtail the aching and stinging. All of the previous day’s events come crashing into my head before my eyes open – all of the hideousness, all of the sounds of whips, the flashes of pain, the anguish and torment. It has all just landed with a spectacular wallop followed by a little greeting courtesy, right in my morning brain.

My eyes open and I spy Jesse sound asleep and in the same position as I last remember him being. His hand is resting on my cheek, his face close to mine, his lips parted and breathing steady, peaceful breaths into my face. He looks so serene, his long lashes fanning his face, his hair its usual morning disheveled mop of dirty blonde. He has his morning stubble and his untroubled, handsome face close to mine brings a small smile to me. Past all of his annoying, challenging ways is a deeply messed up man, who drinks, f**ks and has had himself whipped to punish himself. I’m a huge contributing factor to his sorry state, but if it’s as he says and he punished himself because he thinks he deserves it, that everything happening is because of his past, then I may as well lock myself up in a glass case for the rest of my life.

I watch as his eyelids flicker and slowly open, blinking a few times before he focuses in on me. I can see from the ticking of his minds cogs that his pre-awake brain is being flooded with information and reminders that will bring him back up to speed with where we are and why. It takes a few silent moments, but he eventually sighs and inches himself closer to me until we are nose to nose, him on his side and me still on my front. I don’t feel close enough. I pull my arms from under the pillow and shift myself on a few winces until I’m on my side reflecting him. His hand rests on my hip to steady me and he moves closer still, his body pressed to the front of mine, our noses touching again.

‘It is possible.’ I whisper through the incredible dryness of my throat. ‘To understand how you feel about me, it is possible.’

‘You did this to yourself to prove you love me?’

‘No, you know I love you. I did it to show you what it feels like.’

His brow furrows deeply. ‘I don’t understand. I know what it feels like to be whipped.’

‘I don’t mean that. I mean the agony of seeing the man I love hurting himself.’ I bring my hand up and stroke his stubble, and I see him begin to grasp my point. ‘Nothing will ever hurt me as much as seeing you doing that to yourself. That will kill me, nothing else. If you punish yourself again, then I will too.’ My voice is slightly shaky just at the thought of ever having to face another day like yesterday. I’ve just threatened him and if he loves me like he claims he does, then my request should be a very easy one for him to fulfil.

His eyes dart around a bit and he chews his lip as he starts shaking his head ever so faintly. His eyes fall back onto mine. ‘You love me.’

‘I need you. I need you strong and healthy. I need you to understand how much I love you. I need you to know that I can’t be without you either. I would die before losing you too.’

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t deserve you, Ava. Not after the life I’ve lived. I’ve never had anything I’ve valued or wanted to protect. Now I have, and it’s a bizarre mixture of total happiness and complete f**king fear.’ His eyes scan every inch of my face. ‘I filled an empty existence with drink and women. I’ve never cared. I’ve hurt the most precious thing in my life and I can’t cope with that.’

‘I’ve made you like this.’

His frown line slips onto his forehead, but he doesn’t argue with my statement. I have made him like this. ‘I crave control with you, Ava. I can’t help it. I really can’t.’

‘I know.’ I sigh, ‘I know you can’t.’ I move into his chest and soak up his heat. For once, I feel like I completely understand him. He’s had an irrepressible existence – a life of not caring, of unfeeling and complete disorder. He doesn’t know what to do with all of this new found emotion.

‘You’re hurting because of me.’ he says into my hair.

‘And you are because of me.’ I affirm, harshly. ‘We deal with the past. As long as I have you, the strong you, then we deal with it. It’s not your history that is hurting me. It’s you. The things you are doing now.’ I’m aware of my mind pointing out that I’ve been struggling to deal with Jesse’s past, but that is just raging jealously, not heart splintering pain. I have to learn to deal with it.