“That’s better.” I admire my work. She looks adorable in wool. I lean down and move her hair from her face, waiting for her to find me. She’s knackered. Out of breath and sweaty. Beautiful. I give her a hard kiss. “You could have saved us both a lot of trouble if you’d have just put . . . the . . . fucking . . . jumper . . . on.” But I can’t deny how much fun that was. And how much I needed to simply laugh. Wonderful, infuriating woman.

I get up and slip my jacket on while she searches for breath, pulling herself up. She looks down her body. Growls like a tiger. A death stare. How I manage to restrain my smile, I’ll never know.

“I’ll just take it off,” she declares fiercely.

My amusement can no longer be hidden. “No, you won’t.” She’ll sleep in it all night and remember our amazing lovemaking, how the jumper got on her body, and who has the power. She stamps out of the room as I fix my tie, my smiling eyes following her.

“You’re an unreasonable arse.” The door to the bathroom is slammed with such force, the house shakes. Me? Unreasonable? After everything she’s put me through, I’m the unreasonable one? I laugh but stop the moment my eyes land on her mobile, wondering what ringtone I’ll give myself today. I smile as I change it and make my way to the kitchen, finding Kate and Sam all over each other.

“You look significantly happier,” Kate muses, leaving Sam by the sink to fetch a mug.

“Ava and I have reached an understanding.”

“Oh, good.” Sam seems genuinely happy for me. Good. I’m happy too. “What’s that?” He takes a chair, but I’m distracted from answering him when Ava stomps in. She’s still in the jumper. And a filthy look is still marring her gorgeous face. She goes straight to the bottle of wine and pours a large glass as if to make a point. Oh, she’s walking a very fine line. Next time, I won’t force her into a jumper. It’ll be a fucking cage. I glower at her as she settles against the worktop, wine in hand. Has she forgotten about the monster hangover she had? Has she forgotten that she swore to never drink again? She’s doing this to rile me. To get one back.

“Made up?” Kate asks, crossing the kitchen and lowering to Sam’s lap. He accepts with ease, doesn’t bat an eyelid, even jokes about dropping her through his spread thighs. It’s unusual to see him so wrapped up in a woman. I can’t deny it suits him.