Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(13)

‘Here, put these on.’ I place the clothes on the bed next to him, and he turns his head to inspect my selection, letting out a heavy, tired breath.

When he makes no attempt to dress himself, I pick up his boxers and kneel down in front of him, holding them at his feet. He’s done this to me plenty of times. I tap his ankle and he pushes himself up on the bed, looking down at me, a small twinkle lighting his eyes. It’s another familiar trait.

He silently lifts his feet into the waiting holes and stands so I can negotiate the boxers up his legs, but then his towel drops when I’m halfway up his body and I come face to face with his huge arousal.

I release his boxers and jump back from him, like it might burn me or something. Not all of him is broken then, I think to myself, trying to ignore the steel rod of flesh within touching distance. I flick a glance up to him and for the first time, his eyes sparkle fully, but it’s not a good thing. I’ve seen that look, more than once, heaps in fact, and it’s not what I need right now, although my body is completely disagreeing with my brain. I struggle to control the urge to push him on the bed and straddle him. I’m not risking sidetracking either of us with sex. There’s a lot to talk about.

He reaches down to pull his boxers up the rest of the way. ‘I’ll go to the hospital.’ he says. ‘If you want me to, then I’ll go.’

I frown at him. ‘Agreeing to have your hand looked at won’t make me fall to your feet in gratitude.’ I say curtly.

His eyes narrow slightly at my harshness. ‘I’ll let that slip.’

‘I need to feed you.’ I mutter, turning and walking out of the room, leaving Jesse to put his sweatpants and t-shirt on.

I need him to want to sort himself out, not just do things because he thinks it will get him closer to me. That won’t help. It would just be another form of manipulation, and I’ve got to avoid anything that influences the small part of my mind that is functioning correctly.





Chapter 4


I examine the contents of his fridge. There is nothing I can do with a can of squirty cream, a jar of chocolate spread or some peanut butter. There is plenty that Jesse could do, though – like make an Ava éclair. I shake my head on a shudder.

‘You have nothing.’ I say as he approaches behind me and grabs the jar of peanut butter.

He cradles the jar under his arm and unscrews the lid with his good hand, tossing it on the breakfast bar, before perching on a barstool and proceeding to dunk and lick his finger clean.

‘I’ll go to the supermarket.’ I shut the fridge door and make my way to the stairs.

He pulls his finger from his mouth. ‘I’ll come.’

‘Okay.’ I carry on my way.

‘I’ll come because I want to.’ he says quietly.

I stop in my tracks. ‘Okay.’

‘Ava, will you look at me?’ His voice is impatient. I don’t appreciate it.

I turn to face him, silently pleading with him to instigate a talk, but he just stares at me, looking almost mad.

‘I’ll get ready.’ I turn, leaving him in the kitchen.



I shower in the spare room en-suite, leaving myself standing under the hot water for an eternity, like it might wash away all of my troubles. When I eventually emerge from the shower enclosure, I search through my bags and find that Kate has, quite literally, chucked anything and everything in. I throw on a cornflower blue fifties dress which flares at the waist and my cream ballet pumps before rough drying my hair and pinning it in a low mess at the nape of my neck. A quick flick of blusher and mascara and I’m done.

I present myself to the mirror, but I don’t look much better after my attempts to make myself appear better. My eyes are probably matching Jesse’s on the hollow scale and the empty feeling that’s been lingering since last Sunday has not been filled by Jesse’s presence. Maybe I’ve got all of this wrong. Maybe I am better walking away because I certainly don’t feel any better for being here. I sigh at my reflection, willing it to give me some answers, but I know the only place I can find the answers I’m looking for is sat downstairs feasting on peanut butter. I grab my bag and make my way down to him.



He’s asleep. I look at him sat on the sofa, one leg up, one hanging off the edge, his palm resting on his chest. His mouth is slightly parted and his lashes are flickering. I leave him, taking myself to the kitchen to down my pill and use the time to send a quick text to Kate, letting her know all is fine, even though it’s not, and then I ring my brother. With all that’s happened, I forgot I’m supposed to be seeing him today.

‘Ava?’

‘Dan!’ It’s so good to hear his voice. ‘Where are you?’

‘Well, the hotel I was booked into let me down, so I’m staying with Harvey.’ he teases.

I ignore his little dig. He doesn’t care that he’s had to find somewhere else to crash. He hated Matt. ‘How are Mum and Dad?’ I ask.

‘Worried,’ he states flatly.

I knew they would be. ‘They needn’t be.’

‘Yeah, well, they are. And me too. Where are you?’

Shit!

Where am I? I can hardly tell him exactly where I am and with who. ‘Kate’s,’ I lie. It’s not like he’ll be talking to her or visiting her to discover the truth. And anyway, Mum knows I’m supposed to be at Kate’s and I’m certain she would have told him. Is he testing me?