‘Probably,’ I look away from him, a little ashamed – I don’t know why. How does he know that, anyway?

‘That’s disappointing.’ he states conclusively, but I can’t hear the disappointment in his voice. All I hear is annoyance. I don’t need to tell him that I could, very possibly, fall hard for him. Women must fall hard for him on a daily basis.

I recoil slightly when he grabs my jaw and tugs my face back to his. The hollow at his cheekbones confirm my thoughts. He’s gritting his teeth. He’s angry? What did he bloody expect? For me to drop to my knees and kiss his feet? He’s obviously use it to. It was just sex, wasn’t it? We both needed to get each other out our systems, and there was an opportunity to do just that. We took the opportunity, that’s all.

He’s not out of your system! Oh bloody hell. I don’t think he will be any time soon either – if ever. He’s already under my skin.

‘What did you want me to say?’ I ask.

He releases my jaw, letting out a frustrated sigh, and before I know what’s hit me, he grabs me and tosses me onto the worktop, sending my glass of water crashing to the tiled floor. The glass shatters loudly around us. My legs are spread with his thighs, causing my dress to ride up, and he attacks my mouth with his inexorable tongue, plunging deep and meaningfully.

I’m slightly taken aback by his impulsive assault, but I’m powerless to stop him, in physical strength and in mental strength. I’m instantly plagued by blazing goose bumps and hot wetness at my core, as he thrusts his hips hard while consuming my mouth. He cups my bum, pulling me closer, keeping his groin tight against me.

Oh, holy shit! I groan as his hips roll, unashamed for him to know that I’m turned on like a thousand watt light bulb. Releasing my lips, he stares at me, breathing hard with brazen hunger shining from his green pools. I’m certain my eyes are matching his.

‘Let’s establish some things here,’ he pants through short breaths. He pulls me off of the worktop so I’m straddling his waist. He stares at me. ‘You’re a shit liar.’

Yes, this I know. My Mum and Dad tell me all the time. I twiddle my hair when I lie. It’s involuntary – I can’t help it. What else are we establishing because I’m burning up on pleasure here?

He leans in and kisses my lips, softly stroking my tongue with his. ‘You’re mine now, Ava.’ He rolls his hips, causing me to shift upwards and tense to relieve myself of the relentless buzzing at my core. We’re face to face. ‘I’m keeping you forever.’ he informs me on a thrust of his hips.

I close my arms around his shoulders and kiss him on his lush, moist lips, my way of saying, okay. I’m desperate for him all over again. I’m in so much trouble.

‘I’m going to possess every.single.part.of.you,’ He punctuates each word clearly and sharply. ‘There will be nowhere on this beautiful body that won’t have had me in it, on it or over it.’ His voice is carnal and deadly serious, which only serves to increase my heart rate a little more.

Every single bit, though? Should I look further into that? I don’t get a chance to. I’m lowered to my feet and spun around before he yanks the zipper of my poor, mistreated dress down. My bra is removed and tossed aside just as quickly.

Leaning down, he kisses the nape of my exposed neck, blowing his cool, minty breath across it, instigating a delightful shiver from the mixture of heat from is tongue and the coolness of his breath. Christ, I’m buzzing all over. I flex my neck, rolling my shoulder blades to alleviate the tingles that are riddling my entire body.

He moves his mouth to my ear. ‘Face me.’

I do as I’m told, turning back around to look at him, finding an expression of pure determination as he lifts me back onto the island. I rest my hands on his shoulders, but he grasps them, and I reluctantly let him guide them down to the worktop so I’m gripping the edge.

‘The hands stay here.’ he says firmly as he releases them, backing up his demand with that confident tone. He hooks his fingers in the top of my knickers and tugs at them. ‘Lift.’

I push my weight onto my arms, lifting my backside off of the worktop so he can draw them down my legs, lowering myself back down when I’m free from the constraints of my underwear. I’m stark naked, and he’s still fully dressed. And he doesn’t look like he has any intention of removing his clothes anytime soon. I want to see that chest. I move my hands from the edge of the counter to the hem of his shirt.

He steps back, shaking his head slowly. ‘Hands,’

I pout, returning my hands to the worktop edge. I want to see him, feel him. This is not fair.

He positions his hands on his top button. ‘You want me to remove my shirt?’ His low, husky voice is playing havoc with my discipline.

‘Yes.’ I breathe.

‘Yes, what?’ he smirks at me, and I narrow my eyes on him.

‘Please.’ I grate, in a long drawn out breath, well aware that he’s getting a thrill from making me beg.

He smiles as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on me. It takes every bit of effort not to reach forward and yank it open. Why is he making such a meal of this? He knows what he’s doing. He’s making me wait. It’s torturous.

When he finally gets to the last button, he rolls his shoulders, pulling his shirt off. For the briefest moment - when both arms are flexed back, his muscles bulging and rippling with his movement - I think I might pass out.

He kicks his tan Grensons off and removes his socks. He’s naked except for his trousers. I run my eyes over his perfect physic, my mouth watering, until I see that vicious mar on his abdomen. My eyes pause on it momentarily, but he positions himself back between my legs, snapping me from my curiosity. I fight the urge to grab him. The pressure on my core has me shifting on the counter to ease the immense spasms searing through me. And he’s not unaffected himself. His huge erection is straining against the front of his trousers, pressing hard into my thigh.

He rests his hands so they span the tops of my legs, his thumbs on my inside thigh slowly circling, millimetres from my aching core. I’m raw with pure lust, my rapid breathing becoming increasingly difficult to regulate.

He squeezes my thighs. ‘Where to start?’ he muses, lifting one hand and running his thumb across my bottom lip. ‘Here?’ he asks. My lips part. He watches me as he slides his thumb into my mouth, and I circle it with my tongue, his lips lifting at the corners in a diminutive smile. He withdraws his thumb, running it across my cheek, then, very slowly, he strokes his flat palm down my neck and onto my pumping chest before cupping my breast possessively. ‘Or here?’ His husky voice is betraying his calm façade as he raises a questioning eyebrow at me, circling my nipple with his thumb. I gasp.

If he’s expecting me to talk, then he can forget it. Speech has totally eluded me, being replaced with short, sharp breaths.

‘These are mine.’ He gently kneads my breast for a few moments before recommencing his hand stroke down my sensitive skin. He spends a few seconds making big circles on my stomach before he continues downwards. As the heat of his hand reaches the inside of my thigh, I force myself to breathe. I’m struggling and feeling dizzy with lust

Just when I think he’s going to claim me with his fingers, he swiftly changes direction, running his hand around my hip, causing me to jerk. He cups my arse.

‘Or here?’ He’s completely serious. I go rigid. ‘Every single inch, Ava,’ he breathes.  I’m holding my breath, my lungs burning, as he smiles a little, his hand starting to drift back around to my front. He doesn’t mess about – he cups me. ‘I think I’ll start here.’

I release my breath in a thankful rush, relief swamping my entire being. He taps his finger under my chin so I’m forced to look up into his sludgy eyes.