I roll my eyes as I grab a cup and shove it under the tap. I make my way over to the water cooler, John following behind. My ego is dented more each time I think about it. Because, Lord help me, I’m fifty this weekend. I’m not even sure how it’s happened-where the time has gone. I know exactly what the bastard is on about, and I’m sick to fucking death of being wound up about it. “No idea what you’re on about.” I’m lying.
Stepping down off the treadmill, I wipe my soaked chest before shoving the towel back at him. He chuckles, low and rumbling, throwing a towel at my chest. John’s shit-eating grin, the one that displays his gold tooth to its fullest, makes me want to knock it out. “Fuck you,” I manage to wheeze, turning to face one of my oldest friends. My feet slow to a stop and I brace my hands on the handles, dropping my head while I work to level out my breathing. “You did it faster yesterday, you stubborn motherfucker.” I slam my fist on the button and let the machine work me down to a gentle jog, yanking the buds out of my ears and grabbing my T-shirt to wipe my wet face. Glancing down at the screen on the treadmill, I note my distance. I crank up the volume and sprint on for a while longer, pushing air steadily through my nose, roughly wiping away the sweat rolling down my forehead. I smack my hand on the plus button to increase the pace again, my ego refusing to let me stop just yet. Yet when the time has ticked down and the machine automatically starts to slow, my legs do not. Sweat is pouring down my bare chest as I watch the clock across the gym, eyeing the second hand slowly roll around the dial. My pace increases, my breath beginning to become labored as my run turns into a sprint. Not that I need to run until I can’t feel my legs to achieve that anymore. The hammering of my heart tells me I’m alive. The sound of Imagine Dragons’ “Believer” on my iPhone is muffled by the pulse throbbing in my ears. The pounding of my feet on the treadmill is rhythmic and comforting. and help her fall madly, passionately in love with him all over again. Now Jesse must do whatever it takes to find her memories. Because his wife can’t remember the last sixteen years of her life. So when she finally comes around, his shaking world begins to level out. He cannot survive without this woman’s love. Devastated and angry, he feels like his entire existence hangs in the balance.
He’s in full control, just how he likes it.īut Jesse’s perfect world falls apart when a terrible accident lands Ava in the hospital with a life-threatening head injury. He still has the charm, he’s in great shape, and he still reduces his wife, Ava, to a pool of desire with a mere look.
“Super steamy, emotionally intense” - Library Journal “The raw emotion and vulnerability is breathtaking.” - RT Book Reviews Jesse Ward is back in the newest novel in the #1 New York Times bestselling This Man series!
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