‘I didn’t throw up.’ I say, almost proudly.

‘Well done.’

‘Why didn’t you come in my mouth?’ I ask, as he buttons up his fly.

His serious face falters, but only a little. Taking his seat, he nods at my knife and fork in a silent instruction, and then takes his own. ‘Might poison the babies.’

If I had a mouthful of lamb, I’d choke, but instead I splutter all over the place in a helpless fit of laughter. ‘What?’ I giggle.

He doesn’t repeat himself, he just winks, and I fall in love that little bit more. ‘Eat your dinner, lady.’

Grinning at my plate, I resume my meal, utterly satisfied, despite my lack of orgasm. I’m still bubbling slightly, but I’m not concerned. ‘What are we doing tomorrow?’ I ask.

‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m bingeing.’

‘You’re keeping me locked up in Paradise all weekend?’ I don’t mind, but it would be nice to go for a walk, perhaps, or maybe even have dinner.

‘I wasn’t going to, but locks can be arranged.’ He slips his fork into his mouth and pulls off a piece of stuffed pepper slowly as he looks at me with raised eyebrows. I’m putting ideas in his head.

There’s no comeback from me. I just widen my grin, consumed with happiness as I continue my attempts to finish my meal.

‘God, I love that fucking grin. Show me.’

I’m not grinning now. I’m smiling properly, and he blesses me with his one reserved only for me, twinkling eyes and all. ‘Happy?’ I ask.

‘Fucking delirious.’

Chapter 24

I know that I’m smiling in my sleep. I don’t even need to open my eyes to grasp my bearings. The cool sea breeze wafting in from the open doors, the mix of salty sea air and that pungent perfume is all the reminder I need. Both of those aromas, though, don’t overpower my most favourite scent in the world that’s embedded in every fibre of the crisp cotton sheets that he’s slept in. But he’s not in the bed.

Opening my eyes, the first thing I see is a ginger biscuit, some folic acid and a glass of water. I smile, collecting the pills and swallowing with the water before munching my way through the biscuit. I shuffle to the edge of the bed and don’t bother with underwear or clothes. We’re alone on a deserted beach, and I haven’t forgotten his demand for me to come down to breakfast just like this every morning, except now I can without the worry of Cathy arriving. So I take my naked form out into the main part of the villa to seek out my Lord, but after a few moments of searching, no Lord. I notice the voile at the doors of the living area that lead to the veranda are flapping as the light wind gusts through, so I fight my way through the mass of moving material until I’m on the wooden veranda and taking a deep inhale of fresh air. Perfect. It’s early because the sun is low, but the heat is intense, only slightly weakened by the breeze which is whipping my hair all over my face. I fight to secure it in a loose, messy knot and once my vision is clear, I see him in the distance. He’s running, and he’s running in loose shorts, no t-shirt and no trainers. I lean on the wooden balustrade and happily watch him get closer and closer, his muscular frame shimmering under the morning sun. He could be a mirage.

‘Morning,’ I chirp when he’s a few yards away, sweating and actually a little out of breath. This is unusual. He’s a robot when running, never displaying any signs of fatigue or over exertion.

He grabs a towel that’s draped over a railing and starts rubbing himself on a smile. ‘Good morning, indeed.’ His eyes travel down my nakedness, which is only slightly concealed by the posts that I’m standing behind. ‘How do you feel?’

I have a quick think and do a bodily assessment, concluding that I feel perfect. I don’t feel sick at all. ‘Fine.’

‘Good,’ he approaches the pavilion and looks up at me. ‘Give me a kiss.’

I lean over and peck his lips, his signature smell enhanced by the clean sweat riddling is body. ‘You’re soaked.’

‘That’s because it’s fucking hot.’ He pulls away. ‘Breakfast?’ He asks it as a question, but he doesn’t mean it as a question. If I say no, then without question, I’d be growled at and possibly hauled in and force fed.

‘I’ll make you breakfast.’ I start walking across the veranda, towards our bedroom.

‘Where are you going?’ he calls after me.

‘To put something on.’

‘Hey!’ he shouts, and I turn to see a face awash with disgust. ‘Get your naked arse in that kitchen, lady.’

‘Excuse me?’ I laugh.

‘You heard.’ He’s looking at me expectantly, daring me to defy him.

I look down at my bareness and sigh. He won’t be making such demands when I’m fit to burst. I’ll put him off his food, but for now, I’m comfortable in my skin and he’s clearly comfortable looking at it, so I retrace my steps and enter the villa, via the doors to the kitchen, receiving a swift slap of my backside as I pass Jesse.

* * *

If our normal is me preparing and eating breakfast with both of us butt naked, then I love our normal. If our normal is taking three hours to get ready because neither one of us can keep our hands off each other, then I really love our normal. If our normal is me putting on a summer dress and being looked at like I’ve totally lost my mind, then I’m not so keen on our normal.

‘Think again, lady.’ He rummages through my clothes, cursing and scoffing to himself as he assesses and tosses each of my beach dresses aside. ‘You’ve done this on purpose.’

‘It’s hot.’ I laugh, standing in the centre of the room in my lace, watching as Jesse actually loses his own mind.

‘But Christ, Ava!’ He holds up a strapless playsuit with very short shorts.

‘You said I have great legs.’ I argue.

‘Yes, you have great fucking everything, but that doesn’t mean I want everyone to know it.’ He chucks the playsuit aside and grabs a long, floaty black dress with spaghetti straps. ‘My eyes.’ he affirms. ‘Just for my eyes.’

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ I snatch the dress from his hands. ‘You were fine with the gown at the anniversary party and my denim shorts.’

‘I wasn’t fine at all. I made an exception, but I saw the way men were looking at you.’

Is he winding me up? ‘I see how women look at you!’

‘Yes, and could you imagine how they’d look at me if I was prancing around half naked?’ He nods at the dress. ‘You can wear that.’

‘You’re often shirtless.’ I point out. ‘You don’t see me rugby tackling you to the floor to conceal your body. Lighten up!’

‘No!’ he yells.

Our scowls are in competition, but his has definitely got the edge. ‘You’re unreasonable.’ I spit. ‘I’m wearing what I like.’ I chuck the black dress at him and retrieve my dusky pink, halter neck summer dress, stepping in and pulling it up my body.

He watches me violently yanking the dress on. ‘Why do you do this to me?’ he asks, impatiently.