“Always.”
“Killian’s locked Claire in a room upstairs.” Seph bumbled into the room, his size now dominating the doorway and all eyes fell on him. “He’s got Eliza, so we’re thinking that Claire’s okay for a good half hour or so.”
“Why the fuck has he locked her in a room?” Max said. “She will put the door through and they’ve cost a fucking fortune to replicate.”
“He’s right,” Ava said.
The house had been her project, helping Max restore what was a love letter to Victoria.
“The door did cost a fucking fortune and Claire will put it through.” Her hands went to her face.
“No, she won’t.” Killian body checked Seph out of the way. “Because she’s asleep. And I’d like her to stay that way because she’s had about three hours sleep over the last two days and if she doesn’t catch up, she’s going to murder one of you. And if one of you does wake her up, I’ll feed you to her.”
Seph pulled a face. “I thought you were on our side, K?” he said. “You’re meant to be our defence against her.”
Killian stretched out his arms and handed Seph Eliza. “Here’s your niece. The baby bag is in Max’s study and she needs changing.”
Seph frowned, holding Eliza as if she was an unexploded bomb. She looked at him with big eyes.
“Seph, do you know what to do?” Marie Callaghan appeared.
Seph looked at his mother. “I have no freaking idea.”
She shook her head. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
“Out of interest, why is my office being used for this and not Victoria’s? Or even better, a bathroom?” Max said, passing beers around.
Victoria slid her arms around his middle.
“Because,” she said, “your desk is better suited to a baby changing table than mine.”
“We’ll discuss this later,” Max muttered and I heard Victoria laugh into his back.
Ava showed me around the house, her whole body animated with her enthusiasm for the building and its restoration. Her hands moved emphatically with each explanation of what she’d done to restore a period feature, or what she’d found underneath a boarded up fireplace. She gave me a history of the stained glass in one of the windows and then about the designer of the wallpaper in the snug. I listened and watched as she came to life.
“This is my favourite of the bedrooms,” she said, when we reached one on the top floor, the ceiling sweeping low into the eaves. “I love the fact it has a fireplace and the cosiness of it. It’s one of the smallest rooms, but it has a feeling of peace to it.” She looked around at the walls and the pictures that had been hung and sat down on the queen sized bed.
My eyes stopped scanning the room and fell on her. She was barefooted and wore a long floral skirt with a sleeveless top that clung to her tits. Her blonde hair poured around her shoulders in untamed waves. Blue eyes met mine and I felt a click, as if a final link in a chain was being added, connecting two sections.
“Is it wrong I want to kiss you right now?” she said, her voice quiet, the overt energy no longer there. Instead it left a softness, a sweet tension.
“Why would it be wrong?” I said, standing in front of her.
She smiled up at me. “It isn’t. There hasn’t been anything wrong so far.”
I kneeled down in front of her, putting my hands on her thighs. Her hands went to my hair, her fingers running through it and for a moment I was lost to the fucking feel of her.
“Are you going to kiss me?” she said, the words barely a whisper.
“Ava, since when do you wait for something you want?”
Then her soft lips met mine and her mouth opened for me, allowing me to taste and take and torment myself with knowing how close her family were and how we couldn’t make use of the bed. Right now, I needed her beneath me with my name coming from her mouth.
Footsteps became louder too late and Max stood at the doorway, looking at me with my hands on his sister’s legs, her fingers pulling at my hair and her lips swollen from mine.
He looked at me first, folding his arms across his chest, his attempt at a severe expression hampered by the slight smile of amusement. “Caught red handed,” he said. “Or rather red-lipped. You have Ava’s lipstick on you. Wipe it off before you get downstairs.”
“I’m not apologising,” I said.
