I exhale a heavy sigh. ‘I see you didn't lose your memory down the toilet with the cocktails last night.’
She presses the heel of her palm over her sockets. ‘I nearly wish I had. I’m so sorry.’ She peeps up, her thick black lashes dancing across her cheeks.
‘Sorry for spewing your guts up? Or sorry for coming on to me?’
Why am I bringing this up now?
Because it’s all I’ve been thinking about, along with, well… the curve of her lips, the swell of her womanly hips, and the way her breasts heaved when she suggested it.
I’m playing with fire. Testing the water to see if it’s warm enough to dive into now the alcohol’s worn off. I should know better.
Ava pauses chewing her pizza and swallows hard. A pink tinge flushes her cheeks. ‘Both.’
Chemistry clouds the air between us, thick and heavy and full of a promise of something that I can’t deliver. Oh, I don’t doubt I could satisfy her, physically at least. That’s the easy part. It’s all the stuff that comes after that I can’t handle.
Entwining my existence with someone else’s.
Risking letting another woman into mine and Phoebe’s lives for her to disappear on us again.
Nothing lasts in the end.
So why chance it?
‘Don’t be. On either account.’ I adjust my trousers and try to avert my gaze from where her robe is gaping open, exposing inch after inch of satiny skin. ‘But it can’t happen again.’
‘I know.’ She squeezes her eyelids shut like she’s forcing away the memory. ‘I’m sorry.’
I nod, unable to speak, because if I do, I’ll say something I regret. Like the reason it can’t happen again is because I don’t trust myself not to bring her home, take care of her, let her call me daddy, or whatever the fuck she wants, once she’s in my bed.
I haven't been this attracted to a woman since … well, ever. And if our views on relationships weren’t so different, perhaps we could have a bit of fun with this fake-dating thing, but they are, so we can’t. And apart from the fact I don’t believe in love, laughter and happy ever after, I have a daughter to care for and a business to run. I don’t have time for a relationship. I’ll never be able to give Ava what she wants out of life.
So as much as I want to rip open that robe and devour her body with my tongue, I can’t. It wouldn't be fair on either of us.
‘What are you thinking?’ Ava interrupts my silent pep talk.
‘Nothing. Everything. Never mind.’ The topic of who gifted her this penthouse suite suddenly feels far safer than asking if she’d consider casual sex without the Happy Ever After she seeks for her clients. ‘So, who gifted you this place? An elderly relative? An old lady you met at a car boot sale? There’s a story here somewhere. I should probably hear it before we go to your parents’ house tomorrow.’
She sits straighter and tightens her robe, to the displeasure of my cock, but the safeguarding of my sanity. ‘My big brother, Nate.’ She pronounces his name with a tone that implies I should know him.
‘Nate?’ I rack my brain, but nothing comes up.
‘Nate Jackson.’ She annunciates every syllable slowly.
My eyebrows shoot skywards. ‘Nate Jackson the movie star?’
‘The very one.’ Ava says with an apologetic smile. ‘Forgive me for not telling you right away. Once men find out I’m related to a world-famous action star, I tend to just fade into the background. The entire relationship then turns into “when can I meet your brother?” and they fall in love with him, instead of me.’
‘No fear of that here.’ Not when all I can think about is running my tongue over the perfect dip of her Cupid’s bow.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ she rolls her eyes. ‘We all know you don’t believe in love of any kind.’
My gaze cruises across her flawless features, her satiny skin, and huge hazel eyes. ‘I do believe in love. How can I not, when I love my daughter more than life itself? I just don’t believe in a romantic love that lasts.’
‘Wait until you meet my parents tomorrow. Then we’ll have this conversation again.’
‘Can’t wait.’ Sarcasm punctuates each word as I stand and grab my jacket from the couch.
‘Are you going already?’ Ava sounds disappointed.
