Age of Ava by Melanie Moreland

Chapter 19

Ava

Tuesday, I hummed under my breath as I sat at my desk, going over my list of things to do. I studied the list then marked which ones I could hand off to Robert and which I needed to finish or, in a few cases, start. I didn’t want to overwhelm him his first week, but I was looking forward to having a couple fewer responsibilities on my plate.

It meant I could spend a little more time with Hunter.

He’d stayed at my place all day yesterday, leaving early this morning. We had coffee, then he kissed me until I was a shaking mess, stepped back with a wink, and called for Cash. I watched the two of them disappear into the trail, my fingers on my lips as if holding his kisses there.

We hadn’t done much on Monday except concentrate on each other. To my surprise, Hunter asked some questions about my family, making sure he had all the “clans,” as he called them, straight. He was fascinated by Ronan’s and Liam’s relationships with Evan and Lucy. Laughed hard when I told him about Grace and Jaxson’s beginning, and seemed confused by Addi and Brayden.

“I can’t imagine forming an attachment that early in life,” he admitted. “I can’t form one at this stage either,” he had muttered, staring into space.

I refused to let those words dampen my mood. He was forming an attachment. To me. To this place. I had seen a different side to Hunter on Sunday. More open and receptive. Relaxed. I had to figure out a way of allowing him to show that side more often.

A knock on my door brought me out of my musings, and I looked up to see Robert waiting. I smiled and beckoned him in.

He sat across from me, laptop open, notebook in hand.

“You ready to get started?”

He nodded. “Hit me.”

* * *

Later that day, I walked out of city hall, permits secured for an addition to the winery. Addi would be pleased, and we planned to break ground late in the fall and have it completed for the busy spring/summer season next year. The addition would increase business and be a great boon to our bottom line. I was so deep in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the truck beside my car or the handsome man leaning against it, watching me.

“Excuse me,” a voice I would recognize anywhere drawled. “I’m a little lost, and I was wondering if you could direct me?”

I looked up, meeting Hunter’s ice-blue gaze. Heat flickered in the depths of his stare, and I felt myself responding instantly.

“Hi,” I said, my voice breathless. “What are you doing here?”

He looped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. “Waiting for you.”

His mouth covered mine, possessive and firm, his kiss sparking the flame that never completely went out for him. It was always just below the surface, hot and simmering, waiting to ignite.

Everything and everyone around us disappeared when we were this close. All I could see, hear, and feel was him.

Until a car honking brought me to my senses, and I stepped back, blinking. I touched my fingers to my lips, and Hunter cocked his head to the side.

“You do that every time.”

“What?”

“You sigh when I kiss you, and you touch your lips as if you still feel me there.” He grinned. “I like that.”

I shook my head to clear it and slapped his arm. “What are you doing here?” I asked again.

“I was in town getting some tarps, and I saw your SUV. I decided to wait for you.” He winked. “You okay with that, Little Dragon, or are you gonna pull some of your karate moves on me and accuse me of stalking you?”

“I’ll let it pass this time.”

“You got time for coffee?”

“Actually, I was going to head home.”

He frowned, glancing at his watch. “It’s four o’clock. You playing hooky?”

“No, my new associate, Robert, is handling things at the office, so I am not needed there.” I smiled widely. “He is pretty awesome already. I like him a lot.”

“Robert,” he repeated, narrowing his eyes. “Exactly how much do you like him, Ava?”

His voice was low, the tone off. He sounded…almost jealous. Hunter wasn’t the jealous sort.

Or was he?

“A lot,” I confessed. “We get along so well. And his smile. It’s so contagious. He’s going to be my favorite coworker. I can tell.”

His eyes were almost slits as he glared. “Is that right? And why exactly would that be?”

I couldn’t contain my laughter. He was being ridiculous.

“Because he has experience, understands the business, is as organized as I am, and took this job because he wants more time with his family.” I stressed the word. “Once he’s up to speed, it’s going to make a huge difference for me.”

Hunter stepped closer. “You’re going to pay for that little stunt, baby. You like riling me up?”

I slid my hand up his arm and around his neck, playing with the back of his hair. “You were awfully sexy, all pissed off and high-handed.”

He gripped my hip. “I plan on showing you pissed off and high-handed later. For now, I want you to get into that SUV and go to my place. I’m gonna feed you, then we’ll talk about your—” his gaze was icy hot, and he ran his tongue along his bottom lip “—teasing. We’ll talk about it myway. Later.”

“Feed me?”

He pulled me to the driver’s side door, opening it and waiting until I was inside.

“You’re going to need your strength.” His grin was wide and wicked. “Every ounce you have.” He began to shut the door. “Be naked when I get there.”

“I thought we were eating?”

“Oh, we are. I just want you naked. It’ll make dinner so much more interesting.”

And he walked away.

I waited on his porch, fully clothed, certain he was teasing. I heard his truck along the road, and he pulled up, yanking off his sunglasses and shaking his head. He climbed down, patting Cash’s head and tossing him a new treat he’d bought him. He picked up a bag on the passenger seat and walked toward the house.

“You don’t take direction very well, Ms. Callaghan.”

“I assumed you were kidding.”

“You assumed wrong.”

“You really want me to eat naked?”

“I really want to eat you naked,” he replied.

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. Lose the clothes and come…for dinner.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you going to be naked too?”

“Depends how nicely you ask.”

I turned and headed inside. I was sure he was still kidding, but to call his bluff, I pulled off my dress and sat at the table, my legs crossed primly.

He came inside and set down the bag on the table. “Do you always have this much trouble with authority?”

“I took off my dress. These chairs are rough. I might get splinters.”

“We’re not eating at the table. We’re having a picnic on the floor.” He took a thick quilt off the sofa, spreading it on the rug in front of the fireplace. I watched as he toed off his boots, undid his jeans, and yanked his shirt over his head. He lifted one eyebrow in challenge.

“I never took you for a coward, Ava.”

Glaring, I unclasped my bra and dragged my underwear down my legs, going as slowly as possible. I felt his hunger from across the room. Felt the heat of his stare. With a bravado I wasn’t feeling right then, I walked over and lowered myself to the blanket, sitting cross-legged.

His jeans disappeared fast. He sat across from me, opening the bag. His knees pressed into mine, his erection tenting the front of his boxers. He lifted out some containers, handing me one. I opened it, revealing a thick, juicy, double cheeseburger from the diner.

“Oh God,” I muttered. “I always make a mess. I use about a hundred napkins when I eat one of these.”

“I know,” he said, his voice gruff. “But today, no napkins. Every time you drip something, I’m going to use my mouth on you.”

I almost swallowed my tongue. “Pardon me?”

“You heard me.” He pushed the container my way. “Eat up. I put gravy on your fries too.”

“Where is yours?”

He winked. “We’re sharing. You’re my plate, Little Dragon.”

“You are one kinky son of a bitch, Hunter Owens.”

“Eat.”

* * *

It was the longest, messiest dinner I had ever eaten. Every bite oozed ketchup or mustard. Grease dotted my chest, no matter how careful I tried to be. Hunter’s mouth left a blaze of fire on my skin as he licked and nipped at my skin. He took bites from the burger, holding it over my legs, licking off the condiments with a wicked smile. He held up the fries, watching with glee as the gravy slowly slid from the end of the French fry to my thigh. Then he pulled a large, icy cold vanilla milkshake from the bag, and he dripped the sweet concoction on me, lapping it away with his tongue until I was going out of my mind with desire. I needed his hands on me. I wanted his cock inside me. I was wet and aching, my body ready for him, my need growing by the minute.

His erection never abated during “dinner.” It was hard and tempting, and he avoided my wandering hands, never allowing me to touch him.

“Nuh-uh, Ava,” he chided gently. “You teased me. It’s my turn.”

“Not fair,” I pouted. “I have to be naked. You don’t.”

He met my eyes. “If I were naked, I would have fucked you twice by now. I’m holding back.”

My breath shuddered.

He finished the last of the milkshake, replacing the lid and adding it to the bag. His tongue flicked out, wiping his lips. My eyes never left his mouth.

“Ava,” he whispered.

I looked at him.

“I have never wanted to fuck someone the way I want to fuck you right now. Right here. On your knees, bent over, screaming my name as I drive into you. On my lap, my cock buried so deep you’ll feel me for days. With my mouth, so I can taste you for hours afterward. On your back, so I can feel your legs wrapped around me and watch your face as you come.”

His words lingered in the air.

“Now?” I asked, almost panting in my desire.

His eyes gleamed.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes, for the love of God, yes.”

He lunged.

* * *

I lay in Hunter’s arms, aching, tired, and sated. The room was silent, the muted sounds of the world outside dimmed by his heart beating under my ear. He stroked up and down my arm in long, unhurried passes of his hands, his fingers barely touching my skin, yet warming it with the soft touches.

He had been equally demanding and gentle. At times almost rough, yet the edges tempered with tenderness. He was commanding but giving. Fierce in his passion, but never once was I afraid or worried. He gave me such pleasure, his desire for me evident in every touch, every stroke of his tongue, every movement of his body. I lost count of my orgasms. How many times I cried out his name, begged for more, heard his voice moaning my name in a long gust of air. “Ava.”

“So, who’s your favorite now?” he murmured, his tone teasing and low yet still raspy.

I hummed against his warm skin. “You were always my favorite.”

“I guess you won’t be teasing me again.”

I propped my chin on my hand, studying him as I rested it on his chest. “If what just happened was meant to discourage me from teasing, your thought process is off, Hunter. Way off.”

He pushed my hair away from my face, running his hand along my shoulder. “You drive me crazy, woman. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I do you.”

“Right back at you.”

His eyes shone a silver gray in the dim light. “I wasn’t too rough?”

“I liked it. Every single part. Well, except the end.”

“The end?”

“I feel so connected to you when we’re together, Hunter. Once we’re done, I feel you withdraw a little. I don’t like it.”

He grimaced. “I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

“You don’t have to. I just wanted to tell you.”

A rumble of thunder in the distance made him frown. “Damn. I never got the tarps on the roof. It wasn’t supposed to rain.”

“I think just lightly. Heavier rain in a couple of days.”

“Well, it’s too dark to try to get them up now. I’ll do them tomorrow.”

“Won’t the rain make the roof slippery?”

“I have lots of experience, and it’ll be fast.”

“Maybe you should ask Ronan or Liam to help.”

His reply was swift. “No. I can do it on my own.”

“I know you can. But they—”

“I said no.”

I sighed and sat up. “Letting them help you isn’t a sign of weakness. Asking for help doesn’t make you indebted to someone.”

He stood, his expression closed off now. “It does in my world.” He held out his hand. “Case closed. Come for a shower with me.”

I knew not to argue with him. I didn’t understand his thinking, but then again, I couldn’t comprehend his upbringing. His mother had instilled such strong tendencies not to accept help or comfort from anyone. To never get close. To walk away first before the other person did. I hoped to break that pattern, but I had to be patient.

We showered, getting the last of his “Ava picnic” off my skin. I dressed in one of his T-shirts and a pair of leggings I’d left there one day, and I padded to the living room. He was in the kitchen feeding Cash. He’d been quiet in the shower, his mood darker than earlier. Wanting to distract him, I noticed a file box on the floor.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“I was cleaning the closet, getting it ready for the reno,” he explained. “I spent hours going through a couple other boxes of mostly junk, but I hadn’t gotten to that one.”

I flipped open the lid, taking in the piles of envelopes tied with ribbons. “They look like letters.”

“I think they might be. I’ll probably burn them as well.”

“Can I look?”

He shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”

I carried the box to the old coffee table, perching it on the top. I dug into the box, pulling out a bundle and selecting an envelope. It was a letter from Mr. Owens’s wife to him from a time I assumed when they were younger, dating, and they were apart. It was sweet, full of news and tidbits of the place she was visiting, and signed with lots of kisses. I refolded it, tucked it back in the envelope, and read another one, this time from him to her. It was shorter, less newsy, and the last line made me smile.

I miss you. Come home to me. Always, Owen.

“Love letters between your grandparents,” I confirmed. “Why did he sign his letters as Owen?”

“He was a junior. He didn’t like his name much, so he went by Owen. At least to her.”

“Ah.”

I flipped through the small pile, then tucked it back in the box. I went to the next pile, this one held together by an old elastic, brittle and dull with age. I frowned at the single name written with a dark scrawl on the envelope.

Hunter

In the corner was a date. I shuffled through the envelopes, noting each one was the same.

“When is your birthday?” I asked.

“September twelfth. Why?”

I was quiet as I checked the next few piles. All dated, all addressed to Hunter.

“These are yours,” I said.

“What?”

“These are all addressed to you. There is one for your birthday and Christmas every year.”

He came over, holding out his hand. I placed a pile in his palm. He tore off the elastic, his movements jerky. He scanned the envelopes, his frown deepening. “I don’t understand.”

“He wrote you. Every birthday. Every Christmas.”

He looked confused. Upset. Conflicted. Then he dumped the letters in the box and shut the lid.

“Aren’t you going to read them?” I asked.

“Later.” Was his terse reply.

“We could read them together?” I replied, thinking it might help him.

“No. They’re personal.”

Those two words stung unexpectedly. They were clear in their intent. The letters were personal—and I was not. I had to blink away the tears that hit hot and fast. I stood and turned, wiping my eyes so he wouldn’t see how he’d hurt me. “I see.”

He didn’t say anything. The air in the room was now heavy with tension. Laced with uncertainty, the intimacy of earlier evaporated. I bent and stroked Cash’s head, his fur soft under my hands.

“Maybe I should go,” I offered, hoping, praying he would say no. Pull me into his arms and tell me he simply wasn’t ready to see the letters. Tell me he didn’t mean it the way I thought. I needed to hear him say I did mean something.

But instead, he nodded.

“That’s probably a good idea.”

I picked up my dress and shoes and grabbed my purse off the hook where I’d left it earlier.

“Be careful on the roof.”

He never replied.