He’s pushing me away. He’s hurting, and he’s trying to push me out. And I’ve been too wrapped up in the fact that he’s lashing out at me to realize that this isn’t like him. This isn’t the man that’s so carefully thoughtful of me. The man who’d rather swim a crocodile-infested river with a knife wound in his back than put me out. The man who’d rather eat my * all night than dream of inflicting a bit of pain on me.
The man who went thirty-five years without touching a woman because he was afraid of hurting them.
I think of his scars on his groin and his chest. I think of the hints he’s dropped about his awful mother, and the girl that died when he tried to fuck her. I think of the boys that came after him and punished him.
Everyone he’s cared for has hurt him or died on him. No wonder he’s all fucked up at the moment.
That won’t be me, I decide. I dig through my bag and find the lubricant. It’s a cheap off brand I’ve never seen, but lube is lube. I pull the tiny tube out of the package and leave the bathroom behind.
I’m not letting him push me out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
AVA
I saunter out of the bathroom, completely naked, and prop my arms against the doorframe. The tiny bottle of lube is in my hand, hidden. And I wait for Rafe to notice me. My pose makes my breasts thrust into the air, and I bend one knee so my hips are canted slightly in a sexy angle. Rafe might be a freshly deflowered virgin, but I’m skilled at this sort of thing, and he does not know what he’s up against.
It doesn’t take long for Rafe’s attention to swing to me. Once it does, I see him blink, see his gaze move over my naked body, from my jutting breasts to the freshly smooth mound of my *. That gets his attention. I watch the lust flare in his eyes, and then his jaw clenches again and he forces himself to look away.
But there’s one thing about Rafe that’s super obvious, and I can see his cock springing to life in his pants even if he’s trying to deny me. Encouraged, I saunter forward. “I know how your mind works, Rafe,” I say in a sultry voice, moving to his side of the bed. “I know you’re trying to shut me out, because you’re hurting, and maybe you’re scared of losing more people. But here’s the thing with me. I don’t like being shut out. I need you. I need you in more ways than just this stupid transaction. I need you to hold me, too. I need you to touch me and love me, and distract me. To remind me of the good things in life even when the bad things happen.”
I stand there, next to his side of the bed, and wait.
He stares at me a little longer (mostly at my *) and then rubs a hand over his mouth. “We’re not doing this.”
All right. I’m not a woman without a plan, and if he’s going to play hardball, I am, too.
He closes his eyes and leans back against the headboard. “It isn’t safe for you to be here with me, Ava. Trust me.”
“Oh, I trust you.” And since his eyes are still closed, it’s time for me to put my plan into action. I open the bottle of lube and squirt a fair bit onto my hands, then rub them together to warm it. His face turns toward me, but he’s still keeping his eyes closed.
He thinks he can win this game, does he? He has no idea who he’s up against. I slide my oily hands over my breasts, greasing them up, and tug at my nipples. “Mmmm,” I breathe, making the sound as sexy as I can. Truth is, I’m getting pretty turned on at performing for Rafe. I want to see his eyes light up at what I do. I want to distract him from his misery. I want him to connect with me again. And if it means being dirty, raunchy, cock-needy Ava? That’s what I’ll do.
His gaze goes to my breasts, now slippery and bouncing against my hands. I see the moment his mouth goes dry, his eyes darken with hunger. His hand slides down to his cock and he presses against it as if adjusting himself. “What are you doing, Ava?”
“Convincing you that you want to touch me.” I stroke my fingers over my nipples, hardening the tips, and then slide my hands down to my *. I know I’m leaving a wet, shiny streak of lube all over my body. Don’t care. The fascination in his eyes is enough for me. “It’s not a pity fuck,” I tell him. “It’s not me fucking you for Rose. It’s me fucking you because I like fucking you. And because you turn me on. And I need you.”
My fingers slide between my folds. I’m a little wet, but the lube helps things. I move to the table and squirt a bit more into my hand, and I know Rafe’s watching my every move now.
And because I’m feeling daring, I turn around and bend over, spread my legs, and present him with my ass. My fingers slide between my legs and I push them into my *, knowing he’s getting a face full of the sight. It’s a total porn-star move, but it’s also turning me on like mad, because I’m picturing how much I’m blowing his mind. My fingers slick in and out of my sex, and I moan at the wet sounds they make.
“Fuck, Ava,” Rafe groans. I feel his hands grab my hips, and it’s the first move he’s made to touch me since Garcia’s awful death. “Tell me not to touch you, baby. Tell me that you’re better without me.”