Page 222 of This Woman Forever

“What’s tickled you?”

“You look like a meerkat.” She collapses to her back and pulls her bra into place, semi gaining her dignity. “Wind your neck in.” She snorts.

What the hell is she talking about? I fight my legs free from under hers and gather her up from the couch, lifting her onto my shoulder. “Where I’m from, that means something entirely different,” I say, giving her bum a sharp slap as I carry her up the stairs, smiling, remembering last night. It was the perfect end to a shitty day. But today is a new day. “It is you who needs to be doing the winding.”

“I know what it means,” she says, sighing. “I was being ironic. And there will be no winding of necks here.”

“A man can live in hope.” I carry her into the bathroom and put her down, turning the shower on. “There. In you get.”

“I hope you’re going to lock your office door now.”

“Only for our eyes, baby.” I laugh, although Cathy’s not a prude. “I have a key and I’ve hidden one among the piles of lace in your underwear drawer, okay?”

Her eyes darken, a certain sign of mischief appearing. My semi-hard-on is in her hand a second later. “Ava,” I whisper, wondering why she’s not yet flown into a flat-out panic over the time. Surely she’s realized that with Cathy’s arrival, it’s close to eight, which means she’s late for work. Maybe she doesn’t care? I withdraw, if only to test my theory, but rather than escape, I get a long, firm stroke of her hand down my shaft, bringing it to full hardness. Fuck. I slap my hands on my cheeks, hiding from the temptress’s inviting gaze. “If I don’t take you now,” I say, “my cock is going to be aching all day long.”

“Take me.”

Oh? She’d rather morning sex than getting to work on time? She might get fired at this rate. I lower my hand as she steps into me, her head tilted, her smile small and demure. Take me. That’s a demand. “Oh, I will.” I lift her and sit her on the vanity unit, and a whole heap of memories flood my mind. Look at us then. Look at us now. “You can’t escape now,” I whisper, trapping her with my arms braced either side.

“I don’t want to,” she replies easily.

“Good.” I kiss her gently, my body temperature rising. “I like your dress.”

“I’m not wearing one, so we can’t lose it.”

“Fond memories?” I say quietly, breaking our kiss and looking at her closely. Mine.

“Very.” The lust in her voice, how I love it. “Can you pin me against the wall now?”

I move in slowly, extending the anticipation, breathing hard, eyes darting across her face, everything inside singing.

“Oh my God, no!” Cathy’s distraught yell hits my ears, stopping my mouth just shy of Ava’s. What the fuck?

I bolt out of the bathroom, grabbing some boxers off the chair, and race downstairs, my hand holding my dick to stop it swinging around. Cathy has her back against the door, like a human barricade pushing it shut, but there’s a foot wedged between the door and the frame stopping it. “Cathy,” I say, stepping into my boxers and pulling them up.

She sees me and loses focus, and the door jolts behind her. Is someone actually trying to fight their way in? “It’s that piece of work,” she hisses, slamming her back into the door again. “I told her, I said, no, not today, and she tried to force her way in! She turned up while you were in Spain too. I warned her, Jesse. I told her to stay away.”

I don’t have a moment to wonder who she is.

“I need to talk to him.”

I stare at the wood, my mouth open. “Coral?” I breathe in disbelief. Fuck, no.

“Yes, it’s me, and I really need to talk to you.”

I look back at the stairs, dread overcoming me. “Fucking hell,” I mutter, going to the door. Ava will be here any minute to find out what had me dashing away as we were about to reenact our first sexual encounter.

“I thought it was Clive,” Cathy says, red in the face, a mixture of exhaustion and anger. I wedge a palm into the door to hold it while encouraging Cathy to the side, out of the way of any flying wood.

“I’ll deal with it.”

“Who the hell does she think she is?” she snaps, yanking at her skew-whiff apron as Coral hammers her fist on the other side.

“Please, Cathy.” I’m breaking out in a fucking sweat here, waiting for the bombs to go off inside the penthouse as well as outside. What the fuck is Coral thinking? And what the fuck does she want? “Go and sort out some breakfast for Ava.” The second I say her name, she appears at the bottom of the stairs, buttoning up one of my shirts, her face an uncomfortable shade of impassive.

“What’s going on?” She looks between my raging, uncomfortable form to the door, as Coral—fuck that woman—persistently hammers on the wood. She’s lost her fucking mind.

“Nothing, baby,” I say, calm but breathless, completely backed into a corner, as Ava stares at the door, wondering who I’m trying to keep out. “Cathy’s making your breakfast. Go.” I jerk my head toward the kitchen. I’m a fucking joke, but I live in hope that my wife might one day actually listen to me and do what she’s told. I don’t need her stressed. Yesterday was bad enough, what with the shitshow her brother brought to the mix. This is not how I wanted today to start.

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