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to love you, Ava, give me your permission, baby please.” His Irish tone sounded like the sweetest melodic baritone as his plea rang clear in my ears.
    I stood rooted to the spot. Riveted by his beauty, enraptured in the aura of power, dominance and out of control virility he projected. Sexual prowess dripped from his fingertips, the impressive bulge barely contained within his tailored pants only emphasised that fact. He was uncontrollable, untameable and standing in front of me making me an offer no woman alive was able to refuse.
    “Don’t deny me. Don’t deny us. I’m still the same man I was.” He held his arms out to the side. “Tell me its okay, Ava. Give me your permission to make love to you.”
    Before I had the chance to stop myself, I nodded my head slowly in acceptance. My mind was made up. My permission granted by a betraying body that gave my brain no time to process what I was agreeing to do. Or time to back out.
    Jonah closed the short distance between us in one stride, his mouth sealing around mine with a growl so primal, so swamped with emotion that my toes curled with delight while my heart winced in pain. His tongue plunged my mouth, our teeth clashing as desperation to feel connected and to become as one, gripped us both. I moaned loudly as the hard pressure of his lips bruised my own under the ferocity of his raising ardour. He tasted of sin, temptation and soul warming familiarity, a taste that over rode my wary senses with each lash of his tongue against the flesh inside my mouth.
    “I love you so much, baby,” he breathed hoarsely against my lips as my fingers found the soft strands of his hair and tugged softly. He broke the kiss with a groan; his large palms cupping my face as he pulled his head back slightly. That’s when I saw the glistening of his cheeks and the redness of his dark blue eyes glazed with tears. The pull on my heart was painful as my fingertips ran across the warm wetness misted across the flawless skin of his cheeks. Tears of my own caught in my throat as my chest rose and fell harshly, the ache piercing my reawakened heart becoming almost unbearable.
    “Don’t you dare pity me,” he bit out with a bitter edge to his voice. “I don’t deserve your fucking pity, Ava. I hurt you and for that I need to suffer.”
    My eyes stung as the tears in my throat now welled in my eyes. “I don’t pity you. I just feel your pain.”
    He rested his forehead across mine. “I want you to feel me, taste me, remember, Ava. God, I need you to remember.”
    “Remember what?”
    “That for a time, even if just for a short time, I actually got it right.”
    Tipping my head backwards I saw the look of hope written across his divine face and for a moment the slate wiped itself clean. Sincerity shone through the hope and despair and I knew instinctively his actions had been out of duty and with no maliciousness. There was still so much I had to know, but then and there, in a rare moment of clarity one thing was clear above all else. His need for me was as real as mine was for him. The connection I had doubted we ever shared over the last few torturous weeks was a definite force that we both were unable to deny. I saw love for me for the first time in its purest and most honest form and I embraced it without question or reservation. Because I had learned not so long ago that I needed love. I craved to be loved. After years of telling myself everything to the contrary, recently I realised that to be a lie. The neglectful failings of my mother left me in denial. I was unable to deny the longing that dwelled deep within me any longer. So I grasped it with both hands, gave into the warm sensations that knowing I was important to someone induced, and did what my heart wanted to do for once. I gave myself to the human being who touched my soul like no other ever could and hoped beyond hope I wasn’t about to make the biggest fucking mistake of my short life.
    Reaching up on my tiptoes I