This Man Confessed (11 page)

My husky voice breaks. “Kiss me.” I’m begging. I’m aware of it, but I don’t care. I want and need him all over me.

His face is completely impassive as he flexes his grip on my wrists and increases the pressure of his body against mine. He slowly moves his face forward, his green orbs penetrating me completely, and tickles my lips with his. I moan and try to capture them, but he pulls away again, still poker-faced, still completely controlled. Not me, though. I’m about to go crazy with desperation.

“Kiss me,” I demand harshly.

He ignores me and shifts one of my arms across to meet the other, then takes both of my wrists in one grasp. With his other hand, he reaches down and places his fingertip on my knee, and slowly, lightly, starts a painfully tormenting trail up my thigh, over my hip, across my ribs, my breast and up, up, up, until he has my neck completely encased by his palm, his thumb resting on the hollow of my throat, his fingers splayed at my nape. My pulse has accelerated, my heart is bucking wildly in my chest, and my knees could give at any moment. And all of the time, he is burning holes through me with his addictive eyes. I could scream with frustration, which is no doubt his plan. I lean forward again, but he dodges my lips stealthily and homes straight in on my chest, nudging my dress down with his chin and latching onto my breast. He’s freshening up his mark.

My head falls back against the wall and my eyes close in hopelessness. The continuous buzzing between my thighs is excruciating, and I fear he’s going to leave me like this. He’s done it more than once. He’s trampling me. He has no right to, but I’m craving this touch, and now that it has started, I never want it to stop.

With the music pumping loudly around us, you would think all other sounds would be drowned out, but they’re not. My feverish breaths are thick and piercing. Jesse’s breathing, though, is slow, shallow, and controlled. He is in complete control. He knows what he’s doing.

I’m about to shout in frustration, but I’m spun around and pushed back into the wall, my body crashing harshly against the tiles. I turn my face and rest my hot cheek on the coldness, and his knee comes up, separating my thighs. He takes my hands and places them, palms flat, against the shiny surface. He doesn’t need to verbally tell me to keep them there. His firm placing and the slow removal of his grip tell me what’s expected of me. That and his lips pushed to my ear. When his palms rest on the outside of my thighs and clench the hem of my dress, my breathing hitches further, and I begin to physically shake. He slowly pulls it up to my waist, and then I hear the fly of his jeans being pulled down. Impatient, I push my arse out invitingly, only to have his hand collide with my cheek, the instant sting on my bareness spiking a scream.

“Fuck!” I pant, earning myself another swift slap. “Jesse!” I turn my face toward the wall, resting my forehead against the tiles, my scorching breath steaming up the black, shiny surface. How long is he going to do this? How long will he make me suffer? But then my hips are pulled back, my knickers yanked to the side, and he slams into me. I yell at the shock, fast invasion, but he’s silent, not even panting, not even shaking. He slowly pulls back, holding himself steady for a few moments, before he powers forward again. My stomach twists and my head is whirling. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m struck again, hard and fast, and I scream, but the music drowns me out. Slowly, he pulls out, and I feel a hand leave my hip, sliding up my body until he’s holding the back of my neck. His grip twists, prompting my head to turn out to the side, and then his lips are on mine. I moan, accepting his hard mouth and delighting in the familiarity. I don’t get nearly enough, just a little teaser of what I’ve been missing out on, before he leaves me craving so much more.

Keeping deadly still for a few seconds, he then shifts his feet and rears back before letting go of his control. I’m yanked back to meet him over and over again, each forceful, punishing blow assisting me in achieving my main aim: ultimate detonation. And just when I think I’m there, he pulls out and spins me around, lifting me up to straddle him. He slips straight back in, my arms fall around his neck and he charges forward, quickly recapturing my bubbling orgasm. My head falls back and the warmth of his mouth is straight on my throat, biting, sucking, and licking. I start trembling as the pulses riddling my entire body all collect together and find their way to the tip of my clitoris. I’m screaming before I’ve even climaxed, but then the rush of pressure soars and flings me into an abyss of intoxicating pleasure and I shatter, screaming louder, and I know he’s come too, even though he remains silent. My head drops, finding a sweat-covered face, glazed greens, and still a straight, unemotional, unaffected face. It completely baffles me. I shift my hands to his hair and pull him forward, but he resists, instead moving his hands to my legs and pushing them down from his body. I find my feet, keeping myself relatively stable by leaning against the wall while I watch him slide his hand into my knickers to collect the wetness, and then run his palm all over my chest before he wipes his brow, refastens his trousers, turns, and walks out.

A
fter standing in a stunned silence for a while, the music suddenly unbearable, I straighten myself out and do my best to compose my ruffled state. It’s no good. I’m shocked. He never said one word from finding me on the dance floor to leaving me alone in the disabled toilet of a bar, where he’s just fucked me. Not made love or even had wild sex. He just fucked his wife, like I’m some whore he picked up in a bar. I’m injured, my uncertainties even stronger than ever before. What do I do now?

I fly around when the door swings open and Kate barrels in. “There you are! We’re leaving!”

“Why?”

She looks panicked. “Sam’s here.”

Is that all? “You can cope with that, can’t you?”

“And your brother,” she adds dryly.

“Oh…”

“Yes,
oh
. Come on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me from the toilet. “Where’s Jesse?” she asks as we pass the bar entrance.

I glance through and see him standing at the bar, a glass of clear liquid in one hand, and in his other…a woman’s arse.

I see red.

I yank my hand from Kate’s and steam toward my fucked-up, fucking twat of a husband.

“Hey, Ava! I need to leave!” Kate calls.

I ignore her and fight my way through the crowd. He looks up and clocks me, but his eyes don’t widen. He doesn’t look guilty or like he’s been caught out. Why would he? I catch a glimpse of Sam, who looks more fearful than Jesse at my determined approach, and the first thing I do when I reach him is snatch the glass from his hand and down it. It’s water. I drop it to the floor, the smashing of glass only just breaking the loud roar of music and chatting. Then I pivot toward the woman, who now has
her
hand on my neurotic Lord’s tight arse.

“Fuck off,” I yell in her face, physically removing her hand from Jesse. I don’t need to repeat the move when it comes to Jesse’s palm on her backside. That has already been wisely removed, and there is no need for me to repeat my words, either. The woman’s eyes widen and she backs away cautiously. It’s probably the most sensible move she’s ever made. I feel lethal. “What the fuck are you doing?” I scream.

His eyebrows slowly raise, a hint of a smirk breaking the corner of his lush mouth. It’s the first emotional reaction I’ve gotten from him since he walked into the bar. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Answer me!”

He shakes his head and turns away from me, signaling the barman over. Oh, he asked for this. I turn and see all three of my friends, plus Sam and my brother, all standing in shocked silence. I’m shocked myself, but I’m far from silent.

“Move!” I shout and push my way between them, striding determinedly toward the dance floor. It doesn’t take me long to find what I’m looking for; I get plenty of offers when I hitch the hem of my dress up. I take a few brief seconds to scan the selection and home straight in on a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed man. A hot man. I don’t give myself time to consider rejection. I walk straight up to him, let him drink me in for a few moments, before I slip my hand around his neck and move in. He accepts willingly, pushing his tongue into my mouth without delay and slipping his arm around my waist. I scorn myself for thinking how good he is, and I soon fall into his steady rhythm, until he is suddenly gone.

I open my eyes and see the strange man scowling at Jesse. “What the fuck?” he shouts incredulously, to which Jesse replies by drawing his fist back and punching the poor guy straight in the face…hard. I watch in horror as his nose splatters and blood sprays everywhere. It doesn’t stop him, though. He goes straight back at Jesse, tackling him to the floor, fists flying, throats being squeezed, and everyone moving back to give the two big men room to fight.

“Ava, what the fuck were you thinking?” Sam’s angry voice stabs at my ears from the side, and I look up to find an accusing stare. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t think I was thinking at all.

I follow Sam’s gaze back to the floor, just as Jesse takes a clean swipe of a fist to his jaw. I wince. “Sam, please stop them.” All I can see is Jesse’s white shirt smothered in red and the other guy’s face mangled, his nose clearly broken.

“Are you fucking mad?” Sam laughs.

I’m just about to start begging when Jesse gets to his feet and drags the man up, pinning him against a pillar before bringing his knee up and striking with a full-on, hard blow to the ribs. The man crumbles to the floor with his arms wrapped around his torso. I feel horrible, and not because I’m watching my husband rub his sore jaw. I feel responsible for the poor stranger, who I targeted to get the crap beaten out of him. What the hell is wrong with me?

I gasp as I’m shoved out the way and Jay charges through, doing a quick assessment of the situation before practically diving on Jesse and manhandling him out of the bar. I move back as they pass me, but Jesse fights against the skinhead and grabs hold of me. “Get your fucking arse outside,” he growls.

I’m suddenly very aware that I’ve made a grave mistake, and not wanting to face the music that will be a raging beast of a man outside, I decide my safest option is to remain in the bar. I struggle against Jesse, and he struggles against Jay.

I can hear the doorman cursing as he battles with us. “Out!” he shouts, and I’m abruptly lifted from my feet and secured against the doorman’s chest. “I’ll carry her out if you remove your stubborn fucking arse from the bar!” he yells at Jesse.

It works, but not before Jesse snarls at the doorman, “Keep your fucking hands exactly where they are.”

In my crazed state, I register exactly where Jay’s hands are—one holding me around my waist and the other clenching my forearm. I defiantly wriggle. “Get the hell off me!”

“Ward, how the fuck do you put up with this?” Jay asks as he paces out of the bar.

What?

“She drives me fucking crazy,” Jesse answers, flicking me a critical stare before refocusing his attention forward and rubbing his jaw. “Be careful with her.”

I’m gently placed on my feet and given a disapproving headshake by Jay while he claps hands with Jesse and leaves us on the pavement. We’re both glowering at each other when everyone comes rushing out of the bar, including Dan. I don’t need him seeing this.

“Fuck off, all of you!” Jesse roars.

Dan steps forward. “You think I’m leaving her with you?” He laughs. I pray for Dan to just shut the hell up because after what I’ve just witnessed, there is absolutely no question that Jesse will annihilate my brother. I turn slowly back to face Kate with a
help
face, but all I get is Kate’s pursed lips and the rest of them frantically flicking eyes from Dan to Jesse. They have seen madman Jesse. They’re not going to help.

Jesse takes my elbow and points his glare at Dan. “You don’t mind if I take my wife home.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Yes, actually, I do.” Dan’s not going to back down here. I can see it in the steely sheen of his dark eyes.

“Dan, it’s fine. I’m fine. Just go.” I turn to face the rest of the group. “All of you, please, just go.”

But no one makes the first move to leave.

Jesse’s grip on me increases. “What the fuck do you think I’m going to do?” he bellows. “This woman is my fucking life!”

I recoil at his fierce declaration, and so do the others, including Dan. If I’m his life, then where has he been for the last four days? Why did he take me like I’m nothing more than an object? And why did he have his hands on that woman at the bar? I wrench my arm from him and step back, taking a quick glance at my friend. I’m not sure what for—guidance, maybe, because I don’t know what to do. She gives me a subtle shake of her head. It’s a don’t-kick-up-a-stink shake.

With the encouragement of Kate’s reassuring look, I walk over to her while pulling the hem of my dress down, and stupidly or not, in one last act of defiance, I grab her wine and down the lot.

“Ava!” She tries to stop me, but I’m on a mission now.

“See you later,” I say as I grab my clutch from her other hand and turn toward Jesse. His lip is curled in warning, but I couldn’t care less. Everything he has done tonight is playing on repeat in my head and with each replay, I’m getting angrier. “Don’t bother following me.”

He looks down at me, the fury in his expression more than evident. I hope my displeasure is obvious, too, but just in case it’s not, I throw him a contemptuous look before I push past him and use all of my concentration not to stagger. I shouldn’t have drunk that wine, for more reasons than one.

I haphazardly step into the road to hail a cab, but I don’t even get my arm in the air. “Don’t step out into the fucking road!” he growls, slinging me over his shoulder. “You stupid woman!”

“Fucking hell, Jesse!” I’m taken from the road, back to the pavement. “Put me down!”

“No!”

“Jesse, you’re hurting me!”

I’m immediately lowered and instantly have concerned greens running all over my body. “You’re hurt? Where?”

I smack my palm on my chest. “Here!” I scream in his face.

He recoils, but then performs the same little rendition, thumping his own chest over his bloodstained shirt. “Join the fucking club, Ava!” he roars.

I flinch before turning on my slightly drunken heels and storming off.

“The car is this way,” he shouts from behind me. I stop and carefully carry out an about turn before marching back in the other direction. There is little point in trying to get away. I’m tipsy, and he’s determined. “I don’t like your dress,” I hear him snarl from behind me.

“I do,” I counter, walking on.

“And why is that?”

I stop and swing to face him. “Because I knew you wouldn’t!” I shout, drawing a little attention from passersby.

“You’re right!” he yells back at me.

“Good! Is that the only reason you’re pissed, or is it because I’m drunk, or is it because I kissed another man?”

“All of the above but kissing another man gets the fucking gold!” He’s shaking with anger.

“You had your hand on another woman’s arse!”

“I know!” He glares at me, and I glare right back.

“Why? Getting bored of keeping it for just one woman?” I screech, and then tense, looking around to see who has heard my little outburst. I’m relieved to see our friends have all escaped the scene.

He narrows his dark green eyes on me, his lips forming a straight line. “You fucking asked for it, woman!”

“Me? How?”

“You left me! You promised you would never leave me!”

We stand opposite each other, staring each other down like a pair of circling wolves, neither one of us backing down.

“You shouldn’t have taken it upon yourself to decide my future,” I say more calmly and carry on to the car, staggering slightly toward the curb. I’ve no idea where it is parked, but I’ve no doubt some directions will be barked at me soon enough.

“You’re a fucking pain in the arse,” he snaps. “And I was thinking about
our
future.” He scoops me up from behind and carries me in his arms.

“Jesse, put me down,” I complain weakly. My meager attempt to wriggle free is pathetic.

“I’m not putting you down, lady.”

I give in. My body is weak, my mind even weaker and my throat sore and raspy from too much shouting. I let him carry me to the car and deposit me in the passenger seat, not even kicking up a stink when he leans over to buckle me in. He mumbles incoherently as he pulls the hem of my dress down and then slams the door. I’m aware of him getting in the car, and I’m vaguely aware of the pleasant sounds of Ed Sheeran, but then mental exhaustion overwhelms me and my forehead hits the passenger window. I stare blankly at the bright lights of London by night, flashing past the window.

“Oh dear!” I hear Clive’s disapproving tone as I come round, bobbing up and down in time to Jesse’s strides. “Should I get the elevator for you, Mr. Ward?”

“No, I’ve got it.” Jesse’s voice vibrates through me. “Fucking dress is ridiculous,” he mumbles as he steps into the elevator.

I come to in his arms and writhe to free myself. “I can walk,” I snap.

He scoffs and lowers me to my feet, but only because there’s nowhere for me to escape and there are no cars that I can walk in front of. The elevator door opens, and I’m the first to exit while fishing around in my clutch for my keys. I find them remarkably quickly, considering my disorientated hands, but getting one in the lock is another matter entirely. I close one eye to try and focus as I slowly guide the key to the lock, hearing him grumbling under his breath behind me, but I ignore him and carry on trying to insert the key. He must get fed up of waiting because there is suddenly a hand wrapped around my wrist, holding it steady and guiding it to the lock successfully.

The door opens. I kick my shoes off and trample through the colossal open space, taking the stairs carefully. When I reach the top, I don’t veer left to the master suite, instead taking a right and letting myself into my favorite spare room. I collapse in the bed fully dressed and without taking off my makeup, a clear indication of thorough exhaustion and drunkenness. I don’t let it concern me for long, though. My eyes close of their own accord, and I feel myself slipping into a drunken slumber.

“Let’s get rid of that.”

I feel my dress being peeled from my body. I’m half asleep; I know I’m still slightly drunk and my eyes are semistuck together with mascara. “Are you going to cut it to pieces?” I mumble irritably.

“No,” he says calmly, his strong, familiar arms wrapping around me and lifting me from the bed. “I might not be talking to you, lady,” he whispers, “but I want to be not talking to you in
our
bed.”

My arms automatically reach up and around him to hold on, and my face buries in his neck. I might be a little drunk and massively pissed off, but I recognize my favorite place. He lowers me to the bed and a few moments later, he’s laying the full length of my back and pulling me into his chest.

“Ava?” he whispers in my ear.

“Hmmm?”

“You make me crazy, lady.”

“Crazy in love?” I mumble sleepily.

I feel him squeeze me closer. “That too.”