She squeals in delight and dives at me, tackling me back down to her bed. ‘Thank you, Daddy.’
‘You can ease off on the Daddy business now,’ I say, snatching another opportunity to have a hug. ‘And you must answer your phone when I call you or I’ll be coming into the school to track you down.’
‘Can’t you just text me?’
‘No.’
‘Okay.’ She relents easily, understanding that she’s reached her limit.
‘And remember,’ I go on, keen to reinforce the rules, ‘it’s illegal to kiss a boy until you’re twenty-one.’
She chuckles. ‘It’s not illegal to kiss a boy, Dad.’
‘It really is.’
‘By real law or Dad’s law?’
‘Both.’
‘You’re impossible.’
‘Maddie, do you want to go to the disco or not?’
Her jaw tightens, and she draws in a long breath. ‘It is illegal to kiss boys before you’re twenty-one,’ she says flatly, and I cock my head in a prompt for more. ‘By real law,’ she adds.
‘Good girl.’ I kiss her forehead and get on my way, satisfied by a job well done. See? I can be reasonable. I don’t know why everyone constantly barks on about my unwillingness to flex. I flex every day of my damn life.
Jacob emerges from his room, a tennis racket in his hand. ‘Where’s Maddie?’ he asks.
She appears with her own racket, now changed into some ridiculously tiny sports shorts and a cropped T-shirt. They shoot off down the stairs. ‘We’ll be on the court!’
‘I’ll join you soon,’ I shout at their backs. ‘Just as soon as I’ve dealt with your mother,’ I add quietly, pacing towards the stairs, hoping Elizabeth has buggered off so I can find out what’s going on with that fucking vibrator.
I bump into my beautiful wife halfway down the stairs. The Weapon of Mass Destruction is in her hand, a condemning scowl on her face. She wants a scowling match? I’ll win every time.
Stopping in my tracks, I curl my lip and growl under my breath, maintaining our staring deadlock. But, fuck me, it’s hard when she looks so effortlessly gorgeous. So . . . mine.
I give my cock a mental pep talk, telling it to behave until I’ve vented. It fails, my shorts beginning to tent. It doesn’t escape Ava’s notice, her eyes dropping to my groin, her eyebrow curving as a lust I’m all too familiar with fills her eyes. We’ll be having none of that. Not yet, anyway.
‘Explain,’ I demand, shoving an accusing finger at the thing in her hand.
She pouts, looking at the device before slowly lifting her sparkling eyes back up to me, not missing the opportunity to drag her stare over my bare chest. There goes my cock again, lurching behind my shorts. A ghost of a smile curves her lips, and her eyes glimmer with mischief.
She casually slinks past me, and my body turns slowly, following her. She stops at our bedroom door. ‘Jesse?’ she says in that low, husky voice that drives me wild.
‘Yeah?’ I answer, dragging the word out warily.
She puckers her lips and kisses thin air. ‘Fuck you.’ She rushes into the room and slams the door behind her.
What the fuck? ‘Ava!’ I yell, stamping my way to the door. ‘Watch your fucking mouth!’ I grab the handle and push all of my weight into the wood, jarring it a little. I can hear her laughing beyond. Oh, she wants to play, huh? I release the door and stand back. I could probably burn a hole through it with my glare. I take a deep breath and give her what I know she’s asking for. ‘Three . . .’ I state coolly.
‘I’m not letting you in.’
‘Two.’
‘Fuck off, Jesse.’
My hackles rise, and I thump the door, spiking another teasing giggle from beyond. Oh, she’s getting it. Hard. ‘One!’
‘Screw you, Ward!’
My chest puffs out, and I stand back, locking and loading. ‘Zero, baby!’ I yell, launching my shoulder into the door. It opens with ease, as I knew it would, Ava having wisely moved away in preparation for what she knew was coming. I catch her by the wrist before she even thinks to run. ‘Got you.’ I whirl her around and throw her up onto my shoulder, taking her to the bed. We land in a tatty tangle, and only a few seconds later, she’s naked, my skin on her skin, my dick dancing. I find my place between her thighs and grab her cheeks, pushing my nose to hers. ‘I have two words for you.’
‘What are they?’
‘Retribution and Fuck.’ I sink my face into her neck and bite her, licking and lapping at her flesh. ‘You ready, baby?’ My eyes close in utter bliss, waiting for her sigh and the subtle, teasing flex of her hips.
‘I want a boob job.’
My eyes spring open, and I’m out of my happy place in her neck in a nanosecond. I need to see her face so I can gauge whether she’s winding me up or not. As I stare down at my wife’s beauty in utter shock, I quickly conclude that she’s not winding me up at all. She’s biting her lip nervously, and I’m pretty sure she’s holding her breath. My cock shrivels to nothing.
‘What the actual fuck, Ava?’
‘I want a boob job,’ she repeats quietly.
‘Forget it.’
‘Jesse . . .’
‘No way.’ I push myself up to my knees, my gaze automatically falling to her boobs. The boobs I love. The boobs that give me hours of pleasure. Soft boobs. Natural boobs. My fucking boobs. I inwardly moan at the thought of someone taking a knife to them. ‘Hell will freeze over,’ I tell her. ‘You can get that idea right out of your head.’
She follows my line of sight to her breasts and cups them. For once, watching Ava touch herself does nothing for my libido. What the hell is she thinking? ‘They need an injection of life,’ she muses, her chin on her chest as she inspects each one. ‘They’re going south.’
‘The only thing that just went south is my dick.’ A cold shower couldn’t have been as effective. ‘Like I said, not while I’m alive and breathing. Not even when I’m dead. I’ll find a way to come back to life so I can trample your arse. Forget it, Ava. They’re mine and I like them just the way they are.’
‘You really are being unreasonable,’ she mutters as I laugh my way into the bathroom and flip on the shower. ‘And they’re actually my boobs, not yours.’
That statement pulls me back to the door. She’s staring at me defiantly. She knows she’s not going to win this one but will try anyway, and piss me off even more in the fucking process. ‘How long has it been since I found you?’ I ask.
‘Twelve years,’ she spits back matter-of-factly, obviously holding back her eye-roll.
‘Then discussions over ownership are out of fucking date. We cleared up that small detail within weeks of knowing each other.’
‘Or so you told me.’ Her nostrils flare. ‘And year thirteen might be your unlucky year, Ward.’
I jump back a little, startled. ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’
‘It means,’ she snipes, sitting up on the bed and folding her arms over her chest, ‘that year thirteen might be the year I leave you.’
I gasp, horrified, despite the fact that her fingers go straight to her hair, playing with the strands. She’s lying. It doesn’t matter. She still has the nerve to say it. ‘Take that back right now.’
‘No.’
‘Ava.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘Mouth!’ I steam forward, outraged, ready to put her back in her place. She tries to escape. She could have a mile head start and I’d catch her. Always will. She scrambles across the bed, aware that she’s pushed me too far, and screams when I catch her ankle, dragging her back towards me. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ I ask, flipping her over and straddling her stomach, arms pinned safely above her head with one hand.
‘Get off me!’
I do the only thing there is to do. I look down at the sensitive spot by her hip, grinning evilly.
She stills. ‘Jesse, no.’
I ignore her and go in for the kill, sinking my fingers into her tickle spot and going to town, digging, squeezing, and generally making it as unbearable as possible.
‘Oh my God.’ She sucks in air and starts going loopy beneath me, bucking and screaming her displeasure. ‘No! I’ll . . . pee . . .’ She laughs uncontrollably, then shouts in vexation, ‘I’m going to wee myself!’