“They do the best Eggs Benedict.”

The delight on her face is endearing, as is the waitress’s when she approaches. I place our order and once we’re alone again, I refocus all my attention on Ava. “How are your legs?”

“Fine. Do you run often?”

I get comfortable, seeing a million questions in her dark eyes. “It distracts me.”

“Distracts you from what?”

“You.” That’s a lie. Nothing distracts me from her, but I can appreciate my infatuation isn’t healthy—always wanting more time with her—and Ava’s in full control of that side of our relationship.

She snorts. “Why do you need distracting from me?”

“Because, Ava . . .” My exhale is heavy. Tired. Doesn’t she get it? “I can’t seem to stay away from you and, even more of a worry, I don’t want to.”

I expect at least some shock in response, and yet she just stares at me. She does get it. So why does she constantly rebuff me? She dangles herself like a carrot, denying me even the smallest nibble, when what I actually need—and she knows it—is a huge fucking bite.

“Why would that be worrying?” She busies herself with something, and I look down seeing our coffees have been delivered to the table. And there’s my point. I didn’t even notice because . . . her. I scowl at myself when I bite too hard on my lip. She’s waiting for an answer. What on earth do I say?

I have to look away from her for a moment, unable to face the concern on her face. It’s a hint of what’s to come. “It’s worrying because I feel out of control,” I blurt, giving her the truth. “Feeling out of control is not something I do well, Ava.” Terribly, in fact. There’s a part of me that copes so much better when she is around. And there’s another part of me that completely sinks. I have to fight my compulsions. “Not where you’re concerned.”

“If you were more reasonable,” she says, her voice quiet, as if she’s afraid to speak up, “you wouldn’t feel out of control.” Her lashes flicker when she blinks at me, her fingers toying with the edge of her coffee cup. Reasonable. Yes, let’s talk about being reasonable, but before I can open my mouth, she goes on. “Are you like this with all of your women?”

The fuck? All of my women? Does she actually think this is normal behavior for me?

Ah, so you’re admitting to abnormal behavior?

I shake Jake’s irritating voice from my mind. “I’ve never cared enough about anyone else to feel like this,” I say, making that crystal clear. All of my women? I’m feeling strung. This is not how I planned the day to be.