Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(43)
‘I said I wasn’t hungry.’
‘You’ll eat, Ava. End of.’
I shake my head at him, but don’t argue. Instead, I find a window seat and flop down in the leather couch. What a perfect way to start the day, ten mile run aside. I would still take sleepy sex over this, though. I would take sleepy sex over anything.
My mind starts drifting to Jesse’s plea for me to go to The Manor’s party. What sort of party would it be, anyway? Visions of semi-naked people, all milling around, springs to mind, along with hazy, dim lighting and erotic music. Oh yes, and grid-like contraptions, hooks, hoists…whips.
Fucking hell!
It would be like a giant gang-bang with kinky toys! Oh Jesus good Lord above. Not only do I not want to go myself, I’m not that crazy about the thought of Jesse being there either. An assault of jealousy spikes at me repeatedly as I imagine women drooling all over him, trying to entice him with promises of wicked sex. There’s no doubt he is up for a bit of rough, and he’s bloody good at it. Oh God, he’s used to all of that shit. Okay, I’m having complete mental breakdown in Starbucks, and again I’m reminded that he’s had a lot of practice…with sex…and toys…and…
STOP!
What a depressing thought. I saw the look on those women’s faces when I was at The Manor. I was an interloper, and I can imagine the reception I would get if I did go to the party. It certainly wouldn’t be any warmer than my previous visits. I would be, in effect, gatecrashing their gang-bang. This is horrible.
‘Dreaming?’
I pull my eyes from the lush greenness of the park across the road, to the lush greenness of my Lord of the Sex Manor. I smile a really unconvincing smile. I feel depressed and slightly inadequate all of a sudden. And really, really bitter – resentful and consumed with jealousy.
He eyes me suspiciously while arranging the coffees and muffins on the table before ridding himself of the tray and taking a seat opposite me. I start picking at the top of my muffin as I stir my coffee. I know he’s watching me, but I can’t seem to muster up the strength to appear fine. I’m not. We haven’t even talked about The Manor. We haven’t talked about anything really.
‘I’m not coming to the party.’ I say to my cappuccino. ‘I love you, but I can’t do that.’ I add the last bit in the hope of softening the blow. My Lord doesn’t take no well – not from me, anyway.
After a few silent moments pass, I glance up to establish what expression his handsome face is displaying. There’s no rage or scowl, but his frown line has jumped into position and he is chewing his bottom lip, which tells me this is really important to him. If he hits me with another statement like he did during our tub talk last night, I’ll cry.
‘It’s not going to be how you think it will be, Ava.’ he says quietly.
‘How do you mean?’ I ask on a frown. How does he know how I think it will be?
He takes a sip of his coffee and sets it down on the table before shifting forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees. ‘Has The Manor ever given you the impression of a seedy sex club?’
‘No.’ I admit. I didn’t even know it was a sex club until I snooped around with Kate and found myself on the third floor. It just looks like a super posh hotel come spa set up. Well, from what I saw, which was not a lot, but that was mainly because I was blinkered by this man sat opposite me.
‘Ava, there won’t be people wandering around naked and propositioning you. You won’t be manhandled up the stairs to the communal room. There are rules.’
Rules? ‘What do you mean by rules?’ I’m frowning again.
He smiles. ‘The only places people are permitted to remove their clothes is in the communal room or one of the private suites. The ground floor, spa and sports facilities are run like any other exclusive resort. I don’t run a brothel, Ava. My members pay a lot of money to enjoy everything The Manor provides, not just the privilege to pursue their sexual preference with likeminded people.’
I know I’m blushing, and I could kick myself. ‘What’s your sexual preference?’ I ask quietly. Of all the things I could ask, I ask this? What the hell is wrong with me? I should be picking his brain on cross-type wall hangings and gold grids hanging from the ceiling, or racks of whips and suspended chains from beams.
He grins that roguish grin and pops a chunk of muffin in his mouth, chewing it purposely slowly and watching me as I writher under his potent gaze. ‘You.’ he states firmly.
‘Just me?’
‘Just you, Ava.’ His tone is husky and determined, and I can’t help the small smile tickling the corners of my mouth. He has just cranked up his sexual magnetism tenfold. I could jump him.
‘Good.’ I take my first real mouthful of my muffin, immensely satisfied by his response. Just me. I like that answer. Do I even care about what goes on at The Manor, as long as Jesse isn’t involved? I just have to disregard the fact that he has been. To what extent has he been involved, though, and is it compulsory for me to know?
We watch each other for a short while, him running his index finger across his bottom lip, me marveling at how damn sexy he looks doing just that.
‘You’ll come?’ he asks, instead of demands. He is being really rather reasonable for Jesse. ‘Please.’ he adds hopefully on a pout.