His lips form a straight line and his greens eyes narrow. ‘Mouth!’
‘No! You are not…’ That’s as far as I get before his mouth hits mine, attacking me full force. I know exactly what he’s doing, but that doesn’t stop my bag from dropping to the ground and my hands from grappling at his suit covered back. My legs lift and curl around his waist. This is the Jesse I know and love. I couldn’t be happier. I moan, I yank at his jacket, I pull his hair and bite at his lip.
‘Stubborn woman.’ he works up to my ear and bites down, clinking my earing with his teeth. ‘Someone’s gagging for it.’ He kisses the sensitive void under my lobe, and I shudder from top to toe. ‘Shall I make you scream in the stairwell, Ava?’
Oh good Lord, I want him to f**k me in the stairwell. ‘Yes,’
He pulls away, unhooks my legs and lets me slide down the wall to my feet, and then he rearranges his groin area while observing my shocked face under hooded eyes. ‘Would love to, but I’m late.’
‘You bastard.’ I spit, trying desperately to compose myself. It’s no good. Why bother pretending to be unaffected? It’ll never work. I stoop and grab my bag before pushing the door open and clinking on my frustrated heels through the foyer.
‘Good Morning, Ava.’ Clive’s fresh, happy tone irritates me.
I just about manage a low grunt as I pass, walking out into the sunshine and putting my sunglasses on, immediately loving the fact that my present isn’t here, but my Mini is. He’ll have to let me out, and he’d better. I jump in and start her up, and there’s an immediate tap on my window. ‘Yes?’ I ask as the glass pane lowers.
‘I’ll take you to work.’ It’s that tone, but I couldn’t give a toss.
I do the window back up. ‘No, thank you.’ I reverse out of the space, taking care not to run his feet over, before pulling my phone from my bag and dialling Lusso. ‘Morning, Clive.’ My greeting is a million miles away from the grunt that I’ve just given the old boy.
‘Ava?’
‘Yes, sorry to be a pain. Could you open the gates?’
‘Of course. I’ll do it now.’
‘Thank you, Clive.’ A smug, private smile breaks the corners of my lips, and I chuck my phone on the passenger’s seat as the gates start to open. I don’t hang around. I drive straight out of the car park, catching Jesse’s arms waving around above his head before he stalks back into the foyer.
* * *
After driving up and down the car park forever, looking for a space, I finally fall through the office doors a whole half an hour late. I’m still slightly sweaty, I’m even more out of breath and my frustration is obvious, especially when I throw my bag across my desk and it takes my pen pot with it, the loud clatter attracting the attention of my work colleagues, who all poke their heads out of the kitchen to see what the commotion is all about.
‘Feeling better?’ Tom asks, his inquisitive gaze running the length of my clammy form.
‘Yes!’ I bark, wrenching my bag to the floor and collapsing into my chair. I take a few calming breaths and turn my swivel chair towards the kitchen, finding three sets of raised eyebrows. ‘What?’
‘You look terrible,’ Victoria pipes up. ‘Maybe you should’ve stayed off work.’
‘I can pick you a Starbucks up,’ Sally offers sweetly.
I soften my scowling face at the expressions all pointed at me, which have now turned from curious to concerned. I forgot that I was supposedly ill yesterday. ‘Thanks, Sal. That would be lovely.’
She walks over to her desk and pulls some money from the petty cash tin. ‘Anyone else?’
Tom and Victoria both shout their orders at Sal, who barely holds back to hear them before leaving office promptly, probably to escape my obvious foul mood. I turn my computer on and load up my email account. Tom and Victoria are standing at the end of my desk in a blink of an eye.
‘You look pasty.’ Tom observes, twirling a pen in his fingers, his turquoise shirt and yellow tie playing havoc with my tired eyes.
‘Really pale, Ava. Are you sure you’re okay?’ Victoria sounds and looks more concerned than Tom, who just looks damn right suspicious.
I start flicking through my email, highlighting and deleting the mass of junk and promotional rubbish. ‘I’m fine. Where’s Patrick?’ It’s only now, when I’ve calmed slightly, that I’ve noticed my boss hasn’t come to investigate the noise.
‘Personal meetings.’ they chant in unison, and I look up on a frown.
‘Wasn’t he in private meetings yesterday?’
‘He’ll be in tomorrow.’ Tom tells me. ‘Do you think he’s finally divorcing Irene?’
I actually laugh. ‘No!’ She might drive Patrick around the twist, but he loves her dearly.
‘Ooh, I didn’t think of that.’ Victoria’s blue eyes are wide. ‘Did you see that thing she had on at your wedding?’
‘Yes!’ Tom shrieks. ‘A crime!’