Page 20 of Keeping Ava

Since those sweet lips touched my skin. Since my fingertips dug into her hips.

Avoidance is her ammo, and it’s driving me insane.

“Good morning,” I say after another minute, having waited until she was by the sink to announce myself.

“Shit!” Ava gives a small jump then whirls around to face me. Her blue eyes narrow, and her hips jut to the right as she places a hand there. Angry. A fiery and sexy kitten. “Do I need to put a bell on you?”

“Are you going to continue avoiding me?” I counter, and she looks away, a hint of pink crossing her cheeks.

“I’m not avoiding per se...”

“So, what do you call hiding or exiting the room if I enter it?”

“Not avoiding?”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise a brow. “Are you asking me?”

You’re playing a dangerous game, Ford. It’s for the best if she doesn’t get close...you need to help catch that—

“How about some breakfast instead of the early morning interrogation?” The hope in her voice—how vulnerable she looks—tugs at my heart, and I nod. Give in easily.

“Fair enough.” Crossing the room, I walk past her, hand skimming across her upper back as I make my way toward the coffee maker. Ignoring the small shiver that runs through her at my touch or how my fingertips tingle, I stop at the cupboard above the brewer and grab two mugs. I don’t ask her how she likes it or make any other attempt at small talk.

I don’t turn around and pull her close like I want to. I don’t tell her everything that’s been churning within me for the past two weeks.

That I don’t like the silent treatment.

That I find her gorgeous.

That I wish we’d met under different circumstances. Normal ones. Ones where her life isn’t in danger.

Instead, I keep it simple and pour us a cup each, then take them back over to the sitting area on the other side of my island. In the fridge there’s some caramel creamer and half and half; I pull that out too, along with the whole milk. All that’s missing is the sugar, and I notice she’s put the small container between our drinks while my back was to her.

I don’t thank her for the gesture, and after a minute she huffs. Cute.

With a small smile on my face, I begin to make mine—all black and with half a spoonful of sweetener. I know she’s watching me as I take the first sip. The second and third are the same, even more so when she plates my food and then places it in front of me.

She’s hyper aware of me, just like I am of her. Of this fucking pull that’s making me act irrational.

I’m not someone to get involved with or take a case personal, but this one is just that. She’s personal to me for some reason, and I’m going to figure out the why.

“Okay. I deserve this.” Ava sits beside me. Setting our plates down, she reaches for the caramel creamer and pours a healthy amount into her coffee. She uses my same spoon to stir hers, not asking if she can, and eyes me while doing so. “Truce?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, swallowing hard when she brings the cup to her lips and sips, moaning a tiny bit at the sweet taste. My cock throbs, pushes against the material of my sweatpants, but I ignore the ache and focus on her. “Deserve what?”

“You were ignoring me.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Just letting you make the first move. Playing with fire.

“Liar.”

“Per se?” Grabbing a piece of bacon, I take a bite as I take in the apologetic expression on her face.

“Touché.” Ava turns to me then and holds a hand out. “Can we call it a truce and not bring it up again?”

“Only if you agree to watch a movie with me.” I shake it, loving how small hers is in mine. How soft her skin feels. “I’ll even let you pick.”

“Even if it’s a super cliché chick flick?” Her lips quirk up into a smirk before digging into her food. I let her eat for a bit, holding in my rebuttal until there’s only a piece of bacon left on her plate.

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