Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(167)

Jesse turns back towards The Manor. ‘Everyone needs to f*ck off back inside.’ He doesn’t want anyone to see me. I hear the crunching of gravel under footsteps as Jesse waits with me in his arms, ensuring everyone has gone before he releases me from his body. ‘Ava, I’m going to ease you down, you need to turn onto your side and face the driver’s seat. Can you do that?’ he asks softy. I loosen my grip of his neck to show my willingness and be begins slowly lowering me down into the car. ‘Don’t lean back.’

I shift slowly on the soft leather until my shoulder is resting against the seat and I’m facing the driver’s side. Fucking hell, it hurts. He then lays a light sheet over me before shutting the door softly without even attempting to get the seatbelt over me. My head falls against the seat and my eyes close of their own accord. In no time at all, the driver door shuts and Jesse’s scent invades my nose. I open my eyes and adjust my vision until I’m confronted with green, pitiful eyes. I feel pitiful. I’m a hopeless, pathetic waif of a woman who has caused all of this chaos, pain and aching because I was trying to prove a point – a point I pray to God I’ve made successfully because if I’ve put myself through all of this, put Jesse through this and he still doesn’t get it, then it’s finished. Over. We can’t do this to each other. The thought makes my heart rate slow.

He reaches over and brushes my cheek with his knuckles. ‘Stop.’ he orders, wiping another tear away, but I’m not crying with pain anymore. I’m crying in desperation.

He turns the engine over and drives slowly down the driveway, the rushed roar and madcap driving skills that I’ve fast become accustomed to, sidelined for a sensible purr of the DBS’s engine. He takes corners carefully, accelerates and brakes gently and flicks his eyes to me at regular intervals. I’m beltless, half naked and displaying angry wounds all over my back. If the police stopped us, it would take some interesting explaining.

I remain still and stare blankly at the profile of my handsome, troubled man and wonder whether I could be classed as troubled now too. My sanity is certainly questionable, but I’m sane enough to admit that. I was a normal, sound-minded girl. I definitely don’t qualify for that anymore.

The silence of the journey home is filled only by the humming of the car and the background sound of Snow Patrol’s Run.



Jesse pulls up to Lusso and makes his way around to my side of the car, helping me out while trying to keep me covered. ‘God only knows what Clive is going to think.’ he mutters as he lifts me back onto his chest. I suddenly feel panicky. ‘Ava, unless you let me drape this sheet over your back, there is nothing I can do.’ He sandwiches the sheet between our chests and does his best to hold it out to the side, shielding me from one angle before walking into the foyer.

‘Mr Ward?’ Clive sounds perplexed. The poor man has seen me drunk and carried; defiant and carried; sick and carried; tired and carried. It must be clear that I am none of the above.

‘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*cks 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.