Oh shit. He’s put me in an occupied room…or has he? I can’t hear anything now. I keep myself still and quiet, trying to listen for movement, but there’s nothing. I relax a little, but then I hear the door handle on the bathroom shift and my head snaps up. Oh, heck.
I should be running to escape before some poor sod comes out of their bathroom, possibly naked, and finds a strange woman, standing like a complete plum, in the middle of their posh suite. I pelt towards the chest of drawers to retrieve my bag and swing around towards the exit. I gasp, dropping my bag to the floor.
I’m frozen on the spot and staring at Jesse Ward. He’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a pair of loose fitting jeans.
He remains silent as I look at him in shock, waiting for an explanation. I get nothing, except for his intense, green eyes gazing at me from across the room. I feel like I’m under a microscope, and that glass of wine is on spin cycle in my stomach, churning around and around as I shift nervously on my heels.
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ I half laugh. I’m still waiting for enlightenment, but it’s not forthcoming.
I try to ignore the mass of magnificent man and frantically search my brain for guidance or instruction. It’s useless. I’m not blind. I’ll happily volunteer that I’ve imagined his chest, more than once, and it exceeds even my highest imaginations and expectations. This man is way past perfect. What should I do? He’s just standing there, with his head slightly lowered, staring up at me through his long lashes. His eyes are piercing me, his mouth slack, and I can see the rise and fall of his incredible chest. There’s some serious definition; not too bulky, just clean…cut… perfection. If he’s devastating fully clothed, then he’s seizure worthy now. I take a deep breath.
Oh God, he has the V. His heavy breathing is causing his muscles to roll and ripple, the increased swells putting the stoppers on his attempt to appear unaffected. He’s really affected. What’s he doing there like that? Stood with only a pair of jeans on, looking all freshly shaven, revealing even more beauty? I mentally slap myself. It’s obvious what he’s playing at. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. He’s unreal and so bloody forward – it’s almost unattractive…almost.
I laugh lightly to myself. It’s not unattractive – not at all. I’m a pooling mass of want.
Was I hoping to see him? Yes, I’ll admit that. But like this? Yes, actually, I was. I’ve thought of little else since I laid eyes on him.
His arms drape by his sides, but his stance is confident and determined. He’s staring at me with complete intent, his look telling me I’m about to melt with pleasure. I should leave, but as much as I think I need to, as much as I’m battling with my sensible side to run, I don’t. Instead, I run my eyes down his jean clad thighs, noticing the bulge at his groin. He’s absolutely turned on, and judging by the coiled pang of desire that has just sprung into my stomach, so am I.
My body clams up with panic, battling between my conflicting sides – the sensible side, telling me to get the hell out of here, and my dangerous side, pleading with me to stay and take what he wants to give. This is wrong. I was just chatting to his girlfriend downstairs. Well, not chatting. Chatting would imply that it was a friendly converse – it wasn’t.
My debating brain has got me shifting my position as I part my lips to draw a steadying breath. I flex my neck.
‘Relax, Ava,’ he soothes me quietly. ‘You know you want this.’
I almost laugh. Who wouldn’t? Look at him. I stand motionless, the only visible movement is my heart hammering out of my chest, and it increases tenfold when he slowly begins to walk towards me, his eyes fixed on mine.
When he’s a few feet away, his fresh, minty scent engulfs my nose, sending my body involuntarily rigid. I don’t know how I manage it, but I keep my eyes to his, lifting them to maintain contact as he nears, until he’s standing before me. He’s as close as he can be without physically touching me. If there’s a Def-Con One version of high alert for the human body, then I’m in it now.
‘Turn around.’ he orders gently.
I conform without even a thought or hesitation, slowly turning away from him as I puff my cheeks out and clench my eyes shut. What am I doing? I didn’t falter in the slightest. My shoulders are tensing, anticipating his touch, and no amount of mental encouragement to relax is paying off. The only sound breaking the screaming silence is the heavy breathing coming from both of us. I stand for a few moments, then go to turn and face him again, but I’m stopped in my tracks when two firm, warm, slightly shaky hands rest on my shoulders, keeping me from following through on my intent. His touch makes me flinch, and he releases one hand slowly, as if to ensure I’ll stay still. My loose hair is gathered into his hand and released to fall down my front. In my own private darkness, I can hear my head demanding I run away, but my body has a whole other agenda. It’s defiantly ignoring any instructions from my brain. His hand returns to my shoulder and slowly massages my tense muscles. The feeling is divine, my head rolling in appreciation as a small sigh escapes my lips. The pressure increases, and I soak up the delicious movements of his talented hands as I feel his hot minty breath getting closer to my ear. I shudder, moving my face towards the source. I know this is inviting, but right at this moment, I’ve lost all sense. I want more.
‘Don’t stop this.’ he whispers, the vibrations of his voice propelling shockwaves throughout my body. I’m physically shaking. It’s way beyond my control.