Page 73 of Make It Last

A little while later, I lifted her into my arms and carried her toward the bedroom.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ava

Too good to worry

As I stared into Tanner’s eyes, he carefully adjusted my knee and slid home inside me once again. My heart felt soft and frighteningly vulnerable, emotional intimacy tangling within the heat of our connection.

He did exactly what I knew he would. He filled me with slow, deep strokes, his eyes holding mine every second of the way. When he reached between us and gave me the perfect pressure over my clit, my orgasm rippled through me. The pleasure was piercing and deep, and I cried his name as it shattered me. Seconds later, I felt the heat of his release as he shuddered and trembled against me.

When we fell asleep a little while later, I knew I should be worried. I knew I should feel anxious about something. But I could not.

It felt too good to be with him. Too good to be safe, held, wanted. All I wanted was to sleep, to rest, and to savor every second of this.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Ava

Boundaries

“What?” I sputtered into my phone.

My phone rested innocently on the ottoman, completely oblivious to the expression on my face.

“Ava, you know we need you back here,” my mother said.

“Mom, no matter what, I am going to help,” I replied. “But I absolutely do not want to come back and keep working with Brad.”

I could practically see the pinched corners of her mouth as she paused. She had always been a fan of the long pause. “You need to be professional about this.”

“What?” I yelped.

“You have a job. A very good job. I don’t see why you would give that up. You’ve divorced Brad. It’s over.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want to see him at work,” I said. “I don’t want to collaborate with him. I definitely don’t want him involved in my day-to-day life.”

I took a breath, then added, “And it’s not just him. Claire works there. They have every right to be together. We’re divorced. But I do not need a daily reminder of my public humiliation.”

My mother’s sigh came through the call forcefully. “Well, what are you going to do?” she asked, worry threading her words.

“I’m going to have a job,” I said firmly. “I am working right now. I haven’t quit. I’m working remotely.”

“Shouldn’t you be able to fly home by now? It’s just a broken ankle.”

I closed my eyes. I knew my mother loved me. I really did. But sometimes she drove me completely bonkers.

“It is a broken ankle straight through two bones that had to be elevated and stabilized so it would heal properly. I’m still in a boot.” I exhaled. “I cannot afford the medical accommodations I would need to fly home now.”

There was another long pause. I filled the silence. “I use my extra money to support you and Dad because I love you,” I added quietly.

“Honey, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.

“I know,” I replied. “And you don’t need to worry. As long as I am able, I will always help.”

I leaned my head back against the couch, pinching the bridge of my nose as panic fluttered in my chest. The sensation was familiar.

“I don’t want to go back to that job,” I said. “I’m not quitting without a plan. I’m not reckless or impulsive, even if sometimes I wish I were.”