Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(165)

I don’t know how long we sit in silence; me staring into the distance, completely detached from the circumstances, and Jesse sobbing into my hair. It feels like hours, maybe longer. I’ve lost all sense of time and realism.

The door knocks.

‘What?’ Jesse’s voice is fragmented and low, and he sniffs a few times.

The door opens, but I don’t know who it is. My eyes have been staring into space for such a long time, I think they may have set in place. I hear some movement close by and something being put on the table in front of us, but whoever it is doesn’t speak. They leave just as quietly, the office door shutting almost silently.

Jesse moves ever so slightly under me, and I inhale on a sharp, painful hiss. He stills. ‘Oh, Jesus.’ He sounds fraught. ‘Baby, I need to move you, I need to see your back.’

I shake my head mildly and press my face into his bare chest. It’s going to hurt like hell when he moves me. I want to delay it for as long as possible. I’m not ignorant to the fact that his own back is a blooded mess and he’s leaning back on the sofa with me on his lap pressing into him. He must be in some serious pain himself. What a pair of crazy arse, challenging freaks we are.

He sighs and rests his chin on the top of my head. ‘Why?’ he croaks, kissing my head. ‘I don’t understand.’

If I could talk, I would be throwing that right back at him. Why exactly?

‘Ava, I need to see your back.’ He makes to move again and pain slices through me. I clench my dry eyes shut and let him move me until I’m sitting up on his lap.

The gravity smacks right into my stomach and I’m suddenly heaving, my stomach convulsing, my body jerking, which only serves to increase the pain further. I double over on his lap.

‘Oh God!’ He places his hand on my back in an instinctive move to soothe me while my stomach decides if there’s anything left inside me to bring up. The hot contact of his hand has me jolting forward on a cry and my stomach deciding that yes, there is something left to evacuate.

I throw up all over the floor.

‘Shit! Ava, I’m sorry. Oh, f*ck!’ He pulls my hair from my face and tentatively moves to get better access to me. ‘Fuck! Fuck, f*ck, f*ck. Ava, what have you done?’ His traumatised voice tells me he has just copped a load of my back. It must look as bad as it feels. I’m desperately trying to get a handle of my retching in an attempt to minimise the pain. ‘I’m going to move you now, okay?’ He grasps me under my arms and stands. I cry out. ‘I can’t lift you without touching you.’ He grunts a few frustrated curses as he tries to maneuver me to the other couch without catching my back.

My legs are still wobbly and unsteady. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to see me again on the grounds of feebleness. I never imagined this, but there was no discussion when I handed Steve the whip. Other than my request of no physical contact with him and to give it to me hard, I said nothing. I practically gave him free reign.

‘Get on your front.’ He lowers me to the sofa on my stomach, and I put my arms under my head as a pillow. ‘Ava, I can’t believe you’ve done this,’ He kneels by the sofa and pulls over a glass bowl of water with a bottle of purple liquid. He squirts the liquid into the water and takes the roll of cotton wool, tearing some off before dipping it in the solution and squeezing off the excess. ‘This is going to sting, baby. I’ll be gentle, okay?’ He puts his face in my field on vision and my eyes lift with some effort, finding green pools of total anguish.

I stare blankly at him, all muscles refusing to work.

‘I’m furious with you.’ he says softly. He lowers his lips to mine and kisses me gently and it’s the first time ever that I don’t have to fight to respond, and it’s not because I don’t want to.

He shakes his head, returning his attention to my back, and I pull in a severe, distressed breath as he unclasps my bra gently, letting the straps lie to the sides. Then I feel the soft cotton wool skimming over my skin. It feels like he is dragging barbed wire across my back. I sob.

‘I’m sorry.’ he blurts. ‘I’m so sorry.’

I turn my face into my arms and clench my teeth as he attempts to coat me in the solution, refreshing the cotton wool repeatedly and reloading it with the warm mixture for each painful swipe. He curses with each one of my flinches.

When I hear the bowl scrap across the table, I let out a long, thankful lungful of air. I turn my face back outwards and see the purple tinged water is now stained red and has all the used cotton wool balls piled inside, soaking up the liquid. He gets up from beside me and returns swiftly with a bottle of water.

He crouches in front of me. ‘Can you sit up?’

I nod and start the painful process of getting myself up into a sitting position on the couch with Jesse flapping and cursing in front of me. My bra falls onto my lap and I half-heartedly attempt to pull it back over my boobs.

‘Leave it.’ He pushes my hands away and puts the water into my grasp. ‘Open your mouth.’ he orders softly. I comply without thought, letting my mouth fall open, accepting the two pills he puts on my tongue. ‘Drink.’

The bottle feels like an iron weight as I lift it to my mouth. He places his hand on the base to alleviate some of the weight, and I welcome the ice cold water into my mouth. Jesse walks over to his desk and grabs his keys, phone and t-shirt. Stuffing them in various pockets, he then pulls his t-shirt over his head and down his body as he walks back towards me. Doesn’t his back hurt? Am I being a complete baby?