This Man (This Man #1)

‘I’m sure it is,’ I assure her, wriggling her helmet as gently as I can to check it’s secure. ‘You look fucking hot.’


‘I know.’ She flexes her head from side to side. ‘And it’s good to see you’re wearing leathers, too.’ She freezes, as do I, both of us staring at each other. ‘Why did I say that?’ She suddenly looks puzzled, and my hope dies, but only a little, because the doctor said he’s pleased. All these little things here and there. There has to be a pinnacle moment that will bring it all rushing back. Something that will open the floodgates.

I go ahead and try to explain. ‘When we first met, I never wore leathers.’ Her eyes drop to my stomach. I know what she’s thinking. She’s thinking about the scars on my abdomen. She’s thinking I must have sustained those injuries in an accident, and I don’t put her straight. ‘You weren’t happy about it,’ I finish gently, sweeping my arm out towards the bike in indication for her to hop on board.

She heads for the bike without thought or question. ‘I’m not surprised. You’re not—’

‘Indestructible, I know.’

She stops for a beat, slowly looking over her shoulder and down to my stomach again. ‘This is so weird.’

I laugh sarcastically. ‘Just a bit.’ Joining her, I throw my leg over the bike and settle in the seat. ‘Put your foot on . . .’ My instruction fades off when I feel her front squished up behind me in the seat, her arms circling my midriff. ‘Okay, then.’

‘I feel like I should be, but I’m not even scared,’ she declares, snuggling closer. ‘Where are we going?’

Looking down at her hands linked over my stomach, feeling her head resting on my back, her body pushed tight to mine, brings me a little peace. Whether she knows it or not, she trusts me. I pull my helmet on and start up my Ducati 1299 Superleggera, giving it a few exhilarating revs. The roar is only amplified in the enclosed garage, and Ava’s hold of me constricts. Had I not spoken to the doctor, this definitely wouldn’t be happening. But she’s comfortable. So comfortable. Besides, like I would let anything happen to her.

I kick up the stand and roll us out of the garage, taking it steadily to the main road. I ignore her demand for me to speed up. This ride will be slow and careful. Not something I’m really familiar with, but fast getting used to. Because I have to.





Chapter 20

With Ava nestled so snugly against my back, I may have gone the long way to my intended destination. I make no apologies for that. She’s lucky I’m even letting her off the bike now. She swings elegantly but a little gingerly off the back, like she’s done it a million times before, which she has. Then she unclips her helmet and pulls it off, tentatively shaking out her long dark waves.

Sweet mother of all things holy. My cock lunges like a depraved animal trying to escape a cage. It’s not a bad comparison. It’s been way too long since I’ve had sex. My balls are about to explode, and that moment back there in the hallway when she jumped on me hasn’t helped my situation.

Next, she unzips her jacket, revealing her white casual T-shirt and a little cleavage. Not too much. Just a hint of the boobs I love so much. I shouldn’t look. It’s only slowly torturing me.

‘Hey.’ My visor flips up, courtesy of Ava, and she scowls at me playfully. ‘Are you staring at my boobs?’

‘What’s it got to do with you?’ I retort offhand, making her hover between light laughter and gawking at me.

‘Because they’re mine.’

I snort and get off the bike. ‘There are plenty of things for me to remind you of, and this is one of the most important.’ I point my finger at her chest, then let it travel the entire length of her body. ‘All this is mine.’

She slaps my hand away. ‘You’re a pigheaded arsehole.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I sigh tiredly. ‘It’s still all mine.’

Huffing and puffing a few times, she flips me a scowl. For what point I don’t know, maybe just to demonstrate her exasperation. It would be refreshing if it wasn’t boring these days. Yet this little back-and-forth thing we have going on is strangely wonderful. ‘What are we doing here, anyway?’ She looks across the grassy planes of Hyde Park.

‘We’re going for a walk. Or a mooch, as you like to put it.’

‘You mooch in shops. Not in parks.’

‘You don’t like mooching in shops with me,’ I tell her.

‘Why?’

‘Because I trample all the dresses you like,’ I reply candidly as I take her helmet from her hand and put it with mine on the seat. ‘So I go shopping for you.’

‘You buy my clothes?’ Horror is a blanket across her lovely face. ‘Control what I wear?’

‘Pretty much, yes, and now isn’t the time to try and change that.’ I offer my hand, and she takes it automatically. ‘We’re happy as we are.’

‘You mean you’re happy.’

‘Trust me, Ava. You are deliriously happy.’ I march on my way, not too quickly so she doesn’t struggle to keep up. ‘Just tell me if you need a rest.’

‘I need a rest.’

I move in front of her and dip, taking the backs of her thighs gently and hauling her onto my back. She yelps, but leaves me to my thing. ‘Better?’

‘You’re going to carry me all the way around the park?’

‘Yes,’ I reply with utter finality, my pace picking up now that I haven’t got to worry about wearing her out.

Her protests don’t come. A question, however, does. ‘How old are you?’ she asks, linking her arms around my neck and resting her chin on my shoulder.

‘Twenty-four.’

‘Just tell me.’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I want you to find out for yourself.’

‘And how am I going to do that?’

I look out the corner of my eye, the edge of my lip lifting. ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something.’ I see her mind immediately whirling. She’s brainstorming. Good. Never in my life would I have imagined myself silently willing her to handcuff me and leave me at her mercy again. But now, I’d do anything. And now, I wouldn’t get irate and lose the plot. I’d smile my damn way through the fucking torture. ‘Comfortable up there?’ I ask, glancing to her face resting on my shoulder as I pace down the path.

Peeking at me, she nods discreetly before lowering her lips to my cheek and kissing me softly. ‘Very.’ I close my eyes and savour her affection, not knowing where it’s come from, but unwilling to question it too deeply. Then she resumes her position, chin on my shoulder. ‘I could get very used to this.’

‘You already are, baby.’ I breathe in, then exhale slowly. ‘You already are.’ I continue down the path, feeling positive and actually quite excited about the rest of our day. That was easy affection, and I want more of it.

When we come to the exact spot I had planned, I gently lower her to her feet and point to the grass. ‘Lie down.’

She laughs, caught between wariness and humour. ‘Why?’

‘Because I told you to.’

‘And I always do what you tell me, do I?’

‘I fucking wish,’ I mutter, lowering to the grass and putting myself on my back. I spread my arms and legs, imitating Ava’s beat form the first time I took her for a run and she collapsed with exhaustion. ‘Familiar?’ I ask.

‘Should it be?’

I pout, disappointed. ‘Maybe I should drag you on a ten-mile run.’

She splutters above me. ‘Are you serious? I’d be dead.’

‘You practically were the first time, but you soon got used to it. Now you’re like Forrest Gump.’

She glances down her body, taking in the good shape she’s in. ‘Running clearly does nothing for my boobs.’

I’m up on my elbows like lightning. ‘Oh no, lady.’ I laugh, though it’s with dread rather than humour. ‘Don’t even think about it.’ I shake my head furiously, daring her to defy me.

‘They’re not how I remember them,’ she muses, chin on her chest as she takes them in. Of all the things that aren’t how she remembers, she’s worried about her boobs?

‘Your boobs are perfect.’