Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(147)

Oh shit!

I freeze on the spot. I knew he wouldn’t be able to leave me be, not even for a few hours to enjoy a few glasses of well-earned wine. My vision might be challenged, but there is no mistaking the pure fury that’s spread across his handsome features. I don’t know why. I’m not drunk. I’ve had a few glasses of wine, and I’ve enjoyed them. He’s the one with the drink issue, not me.

And with that thought, I stagger slightly again. Maybe I’m just topping up last night’s session.

We stand staring at each other for a few moments, then he starts stalking towards me. I make a grab for a table when I feel my legs wobble and the change in his approaching expression from rage to pure terror is the last thing I see before the black sets in and I become weightless.





Chapter 27


‘Jesse, calm down. She had three glasses of wine. She wasn’t drunk.’

My eyes are attacked by fluorescent lighting and bright white at every wall. I feel like I’ve been bashed over the head a few times with an iron bar. Where the hell am I? I close my eyes again and reach up to brush away a lock of hair that’s tickling my cheek. The soft contact of my hand on my head stabs at my brain.

‘Ava?’ His voice is quiet and his hand clamped around mine. ‘Ava baby, open your eyes.’

I try my best, but it is too bloody painful. Fuck! What is wrong with me? Is this the worse hangover ever? I don’t remember drinking that much.

‘Will someone tell me what the FUCK is going on!’ he roars.

I snap my eyes open again and gaze around my unfamiliar surroundings. The only familiar thing is that irate voice and it’s a strange comfort to me, but God it’s playing havoc with my sensitive head. I reach up to clasp my aching skull.

‘Ava, baby?’

I squint my eyes in an attempt to focus, and I’m met with a green, grief-stricken pair. The feel of his warm palm stroking my head has me groaning in protest. It hurts. ‘Hi.’ I squeak. My throat is raspy and dry.

‘Oh, thank f*cking God!’ He swaps my face in kisses, and I beat him away. I can’t breathe.

‘Ava, chick. Are you okay?’

I follow the sound of another familiar voice and find Sam leaning over me, looking the most serious I’ve ever seen him. What’s going on?

‘Does she f*cking look all right?’ Jesse yells in Sam’s face. ‘For f*ck sake!’

‘Calm down!’

I know that voice too. I flick my sensitive eyes around the room and find Kate sat in a chair opposite me. ‘Where am I?’ I ask through my dryness. I need some water.

‘You’re in hospital, baby.’ He strokes my face and kisses my forehead again.

What on earth am I doing in hospital? I try to sit up, but I’m met with the full force of Jesse pressing down on me. ‘I need the toilet.’ I grumble, trying to fight him off. I slap his persistent hands away and scramble into a sitting position, prompting my hands to fly up and grasp my head when the full force of gravity crashes in around my brain. Holy shit! This really is the worse hangover ever. I groan and cross my legs in front of me, resting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.

‘I’ll take her.’ I hear Kate volunteer. ‘Ava, come on.’

‘No f*cking way!’

I roll my eyes at the sound of the unreasonable voice I love and wait for Kate to retaliate, but nothing follows. ‘I’m fine.’ I snap irritably. I can go to the bloody toilet on my own.

I shift myself to the side of the bed and lower my feet to the floor. My heels are gone.

‘I don’t think so, lady.’ He sweeps me up from the side of the bed. ‘Whatever happened to en-suites?’ he mutters as he carries me out of the room and into the corridor. The lights are brighter out here. I shade my eyes from the invasion.

‘Ah! She’s come round.’

‘I’m taking her to the bathroom.’ Jesse barks, continuing his long strides to the nearest toilet.

‘Sir, please, we need a urine sample.’

Jesse pauses momentarily, before carrying on his way. I’m placed on my feet and held up while I watch Jesse use his free hand to cake some tissue in anti-bacterial spray and wipe the toilet seat, muttering insults about the NHS and shit cleaners. My dress is pulled up, my knickers down and I’m lowered onto the toilet with a cardboard bowl held under me.

I have no shyness or inhibitions. I release the muscles around my bladder and sigh in relief as the pressure drains. I can’t believe I’m sat on his arm while he holds a pee-pot under me.

‘No stage fright then?’ he asks softly.

I open my eyes and find him crouched in front of me, his spare palm holding the top of my thigh. His face looks distressed and tired. ‘You’ve f*cked me up the arse. I’m coping.’

‘Ava, will you watch your f*cking mouth?’ he sighs, but there’s relief in his voice.

I’m half tempted to tell him to fetch the anti-bacterial solution and spray it in my mouth, but I’m too busy wracking my brain trying to figure out how I ended up in hospital. The last thing I remember is seeing Jesse stood in the doorway looking murderous. I remember being both concerned by his expression as he ran towards me and pissed off that he couldn’t leave me in peace for one evening.

I get some crispy, stiff toilet paper and sort myself out. ‘I’m done. Did I pee on you?’ I ask with little concern as I make to stand, giving Jesse just enough time to remove the cardboard bowl before I fall back down onto the seat.