“Mr. Ward,” he says, tilting his head in question.

“We’ll take breakfast in my office.” I reach across the bar for a menu. “What do you fancy, baby?” I ask, looking down at her. It might be me, but she looks pensive. “Except me, of course,” I add, trying to loosen her up a little.

She smiles. “Do you serve eggs Benedict here?”

“We do,” I confirm, and if we didn’t, I’d have Pete fix that. Anything for her. “Coffee?”

“Cappuccino, no chocolate or sugar.”

“And a flat white for me,” I say, passing the menu to Pete. He’s looking at me like I might have a colossal zit on the end of my nose. It’s warranted. It’s ten on a Sunday morning. I don’t think I’ve ever been around at this time on a Sunday. And with a woman? A woman whom I’m calling baby, looking at adoringly, and feeding? “Pete?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thanks.” I look at Ava and notice her wary gaze around the bar. She’s definitely uneasy. Perhaps she’s remembering the last time she was standing in this very spot after I’d cornered her in my suite. Or is she still stung from my snappy reply in the car?

I swipe up her hand and pull her along, my pace urgent, Ava practically jogging to keep up with me. I reach my office, swing the door open, tug her inside, throw it shut, and push her against it.

Fix it.

I grab the hem of her cream dress and pull it to her waist, planting my face in her neck.

I’m sorry.

I just need some time to figure this out.

My plan works just as I’d hoped. She’s mine in a heartbeat, grappling at my T-shirt, her breath diminishing. I kiss her hard, molding her boobs, my despondency fading, quickly replaced with hunger. Starvation. Need. “Are you wet?”

“Yes.” She yanks at my T-shirt, and her urgency spurs my own. Her desperation is like a shot of adrenalin. She wants our normal back too, and our normal is this unrestrained wildness. We can’t get enough of each other, and I’m banking on that to carry us through.

My hand journeys from her breast to her knickers, and I unfasten my fly and let my weeping cock fall into it. I yank her lacy knickers aside, pull her thigh to my waist, and ram into her unforgivingly on a yell, my desperation getting the better of me. She screams.

“Quiet,” I order, knowing Sarah could be lurking around, and the last thing I need is her coming to investigate and interrupting me.

I smash into her hard, the weight of my torment provoking me. Her head drops onto my shoulder. “Do you feel me, Ava?” Do you feel how vital you are to me in maintaining my sanity? “Answer the question!”

“Yes,” she screams. “I feel you.”