I refuse to let her sudden confusion beat me down. What just happened was another glimmer of hope. Lifting them, I point them at the offending red dress and snip the air. ‘Are you going to remove the dress, or am I cutting it off?’ I tilt my head, a little serious, but mostly playfully. Truth be told, I’d let her wear the dress now. My mood has changed considerably.
Comprehension slams into her, her jaw dropping. ‘Oh my God, you cut off my dress?’ Her hands come to the sides of her head and press against her temples, like she could be trying to squeeze the memory to the front. ‘What kind of unreasonable arsehole are you?’
‘The one you love,’ I declare, walking forward, snip-snipping at the air, a cunning smirk pulling at my lips. ‘Remove the dress.’
‘Fuck you, Jesse.’ She’s absolutely outraged. It’s sweetly reminiscent. ‘Jesus, did I actually let you do that?’
‘Yes. You were too distracted by all my handsome glory to notice what I was doing until it was too late.’
She snorts. ‘I’ve never met such an egomaniac.’
‘Yes, you have.’ I continue to stalk forward, ready to pounce when she bolts. ‘And you married him.’
‘I must have been mad.’
I take no offence, don’t let her claim faze me, since there’s absolutely no conviction in her tone. Just lust. ‘Crazy mad,’ I whisper, smiling when she starts taking steps back, trying to keep some distance between us.
‘Crazy mad,’ she murmurs in reply, her eyes clouding over with a ton of desire. ‘You are the crazy-mad one.’ Her arse meets the worktop, her retreat blocked. I reach her and press my front to hers, dipping to put my mouth at her ear.
‘Take it off.’
‘No.’ She’s being defiant for the sake of it, playing the game. She knows one way or another this dress is coming off.
‘You’re heading for a Retribution Fuck.’
Startled, she looks up at me, my promise snapping her out of her trance. I immediately kick myself. Too much? Ava laughs somewhere between bewilderment and amusement. ‘What the hell is a Retribution Fuck?’
I feel heat in my cheeks, and she hasn’t missed it, her gaze jumping from my bristly face to my eyes. There are so many mind-bending things for her to get her head around. The time has come to address the fucks. While the styles of fucks I lay on my wife were perfectly understood between us, I never imagined what it must sound like to a stranger. And, right now, painfully, my wife is practically a stranger. Great. So we’re going to have a conversation about fucks. Why didn’t I keep my stupid mouth shut and focus on getting that dress off?
I take in air, wary of her half smile. She might not be smiling in a minute. ‘Want to sit down?’
‘Do I need to?’
‘Probably,’ I admit, reluctantly moving from her path.
She moves across to the chair and slowly lowers herself, her eyes always on me. ‘So, the Retribution Fuck?’
‘It’s like a punishment, I guess.’ I shrug and put the stupid scissors away.
She looks horrified, and every reason for me to be worried about this conversation is confirmed. ‘You punish me?’
‘Yes, but you like it.’
‘I like being punished?’
Damn it. How can I explain this so it makes any sense at all? ‘It’s a game,’ I start, having a quick nibble on my lip before I go on. ‘A power play. You’ve always humoured me.’ Fucking hell, what do I sound like? ‘The handcuffs . . .’
Her neck recoils sharply, and she hisses, reaching for her head on a wince. Guilt tears me up inside, and I move in to ease her, but come to an abrupt halt when she raises her hand, warning me off. ‘Handcuffs? Again with the handcuffs. You didn’t just use them as a gimmick on our wedding day?’
Fucking hell. I shrug sheepishly. ‘It’s all part of the game.’
Ava looks away, her hand still on her head, rubbing lightly. ‘Who has the power?’ she murmurs meekly.
Another jolt of life sparks within me, and I quickly put myself on the stool in front of her, taking her hands from her head and holding them firmly. ‘Me.’ I swap her hands for her cheeks and plant a kiss on her lips. ‘Always me.’
‘But something tells me it’s actually me,’ she says against my lips, and I smile like a madman, because she’s right.
‘You keep telling yourself that, lady.’ I rub her nose with mine.
‘So you punish me.’ She takes my hands from her cheeks and interlaces our fingers. ‘What for?’
‘Not doing as you’re told. And sometimes I utilise the Reminder Fuck, just to remind you of your place.’
Eyes wider still, she just stares at me. ‘The Retribution. The Reminder. All sounds lovely.’ The sarcasm in her tone is potent. ‘What other fucks do we have?’
‘I think your favourite is the Truth.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, you get to handcuff me, usually when I’m asleep.’ I scowl at her. I can’t help it. ‘And you use your position of power to extract information from me.’
Her eyebrow lifts, her eyes looking me up and down. She’s imagining restraining me. It’s both thrilling and terrifying. Especially when there’s so much more about us for her to learn. I decide here and now that, in actual fact, I’d hate it if Ava laid a Truth Fuck on me again. I make a mental note to find the cuffs and hide them somewhere she’ll never find them.
‘Then there’s the Apology,’ I continue.
‘Who’s apologising?’ she asks quickly, though I know she knows.
‘You.’
‘What for?’
‘Usually being defiant.’
She laughs again. ‘Like wearing an unsuitable dress?’
‘Exactly like that.’
‘So are you going to make me apologise?’
Jesus, I’d love nothing more. My dick is screaming at me to let her. ‘I’m not sure you’re up for that just yet.’
‘Why? What do you make me do?’ Her face is becoming more horrified by the second.
Make her? I don’t make her do a damn thing. Wouldn’t dream of it. My lips press together. Jesus Christ, I must sound like a monster. I cough and glance down at my groin, and Ava flies up from her stool. ‘Are you fucking kidding me, Ward?’
More sparks, more life. She called me Ward. She only ever calls me that when she’s spitting mad with me. And what do I do when she swears? ‘Watch your fucking mouth!’ I bellow, knocking her back a few steps with the force.
‘Fuck off!’ she snaps, stomping off out of the kitchen.
Shit, I love her so fucking much. I go after her, hearing her indignant huffs and puffs as she stamps up the stairs. ‘Ava,’ I call, running up behind her, three steps at a time.
‘Fuck you! You’re a hypocritical wanker, Ward. Watch my mouth? Why don’t you watch yours!’
I notice a small limp in her last few steps. ‘You called me Ward!’ I rush to explain, and she stops. ‘You always call me Ward when you’re cranky with me.’
She slowly turns, her thoughtful face coming into sight. ‘I imagine I call you Ward all the time,’ she mutters.
‘A few times a day,’ I admit, my shoulders jumping up casually. ‘Mostly, you humour my needy side.’ I extend my hand from a few steps below her, resigning myself to the fact that, today, the dress can stay. She just better hold me back if some pervert has a wandering eye. ‘And the thing I need most of all is you.’
Her body softens, her sigh definitely dreamy. ‘And then you’re all romantic.’
I smile, and I know it’s shy. ‘I’ve been known to have my moments.’
‘Like?’ The interest in her voice thrills me. She’s craving information, and I’m more than happy to give it. ‘We have romantic fucks too, you know.’
She laughs lightly. ‘Well that’s a relief.’
‘There’s sleepy twilight sex. And sleepy sex. And the Compromise Fuck. We had loads of those when you were expecting the twins.’
‘And what does a Compromise Fuck entail?’
‘A little rough, a lot of gentle. And, for the record, lady, you were the one who wanted the rough.’ I nod when she huffs a light breeze of surprised laughter. ‘And then there’s the Quiet Fuck. Usually when we’ve stayed at your parents’.’
Her light laughter turns quickly into hard laughter. ‘You gag me, don’t you?’
‘You can’t keep your pleasure quiet, Ava. What can I say?’ I shrug around a cocky grin, and she shakes her head in dismay.
‘Go on,’ she urges.
I take a step up, bringing us to eye level. ‘The Proposal Fuck was quite romantic.’
‘You asked me to marry you during sex?’