Angel.
I run through the penthouse, leaving the music on. Finding Jesse is more important than turning off the tormenting song which reminds me of that awful day. I head straight for the terrace, but he’s not there. I dump my bag and take the stairs two at a time and bolt into the bedroom. Nothing. Where is he?
Panic starts to flood me, but then I hear the shower running. I fly into the bathroom and come to an abrupt stop when I see Jesse sat on the floor of the shower, naked except for a pair of running shorts that are soaking wet and clinging to his thighs. His back is against the cold tiled wall, his knees pulled up and his arms resting on top of them. His head in slumped as the water crashes down around him.
As if he senses I’m here, he lifts his head and meets my gaze. He smiles mildly, but he can’t hide the torture in his eyes. How long has he been like this? I exhale a long breath of relief, mixed with a little exasperation, before walking straight into the shower fully clothed and settling myself in his lap, wrapping my arms and legs around his soaking body.
He buries his head in my neck. ‘I love you.’
‘I know you do. How many laps did you do?’ He has done this before. He runs circles around the Royal Parks to distract himself…from me.
‘Three.’
‘That’s too much.’ I scold him. We’re talking twenty miles here. It’s not a quick jog around the park to alleviate some stress. His body is not strong enough for this at the moment.
‘I freaked out when you weren’t here.’
‘I kind of got that.’ I say with only a light dash of sarcasm. He shifts his hands to my hips and tweaks my hipbone. I jerk.
‘You should have told me.’ he says sternly.
Perhaps I should have, but he probably would’ve trampled it, and he can’t be running a marathon every time we’re apart. ‘I was always coming back,’ I assure him. ‘I can’t be joined at your hip.’
He exhales on a long breath and snuggles deeper into the crook of my neck. ‘I wish you bloody could be.’ he grumbles. ‘You’ve had a drink.’
I suddenly feel awkward, uneasy. ‘Have you eaten?’ I ask, not knowing what else to say. He’s probably burnt off a million calories running like Forrest Gump.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘You need to eat, Jesse.’ I moan. ‘I’ll make you something.’
He tightens his grip on me. ‘Soon, I’m comfy.’
So, I let him be comfy for a while. I sit on his lap, my dress clinging to my body, my hair sopping wet, and just let him hold me. It can’t be like this every time we’re apart, I’ll never settle. We most certainly haven’t turned a corner, and I’m sorely disappointed. What happens now?
‘I hate this song.’ I say quietly, after we’ve sat in a tight clinch for an age.
‘I love it. Reminds me of you.’
‘It reminds me of a man I don’t like.’ I never want to hear it again.
‘I’m sorry.’ He nips at my neck, drawing his tongue up the length to my jawbone. ‘My arse is dead.’ he mumbles.
It’s the longest shower I’ve ever had. ‘I’m comfy.’ I mock. He moves his hand and grasps my hipbone, causing me to flinch and yelp. ‘Stop!’ I cry. ‘I need to feed you!’
‘Yes, you do. And I want my Ava, stripped naked and laying on our bed so I can binge on her.’ He stands himself up with me wrapped around his body, and with little effort, considering his injured hand and depleted body.
My Ava? That’s fine. Our bed? I will file that away for now.
‘I’m all for that, but I need to feed my man.’ I’ve already caused him to run himself into the ground with no fuel in his body. I’m not going to be the cause of him starving to death as well. ‘Food now, loving later.’
‘Loving now, food later.’ he challenges as he walks us out of the shower and positions me on the vanity unit.
‘I’m feeding you. End of.’ I inform him sternly. I mean it. ‘Where’s your bandage?’ I ask.
‘End of, ah?’ He picks a bath sheet up from the pile on the shelf and starts rubbing the wetness from my hair with his good hand. It could do with a shampoo and condition. ‘It was getting in my way.’ He brushes off my worry.
I start to shiver, my clinging dress rubbing on the goose bumps that are engulfing me. Jesse drapes the towel around my back and uses the corners to pull me into him, kissing me hard on the lips. I catch him wince.
‘Yes, end of. My man is rubbing off on me.’
‘Your man wants to rub onto you.’ he whispers, pushing his groin into my thigh and taking my mouth gently.
‘Please, let me feed you.’
He pulls back on a little pout. ‘Okay, food now, loving later.’
Another submission? This certainly is progress. Nothing usually gets in the way of him taking me wherever and however he pleases. ‘How’s your hand?’ I ask.
He flicks his eyes to his fist that’s clenching the corner of the towel. ‘Not bad. I was a good boy and put some ice on it.’
‘You brave boy!’
He smirks and nuzzles our noses, then kisses my forehead. ‘Come on, you need some dry clothes.’ He goes to lift me off the unit, but I brush him away. ‘Hey.’ He scowls at me.
‘Your hand. It’s never going to heal if you’re hoofing me all over the place.’ I jump down, kick my sodden ballet pumps off and undo the side zip of my dress before pulling it over my head. I’m then thrown up over his shoulder and carried out of the bathroom.