This Man Confessed (15 page)

“Are you taking the piss out of me, lady?”

“Not at all.”

The silence falls again, and we both remain motionless, braced and waiting. Time seems to slow slightly while we both stare in silence as some faint letters appear on the first test. My heart picks up pace as my eyes drift over to the next test and find the slow development of the same letters. My heart is now trying to break free from my chest and our heads inch to the left a little to watch as the very same letters form on the third and final test. I realize I’m holding my breath, and I let it gush out as I sense Jesse next to me twitching. I turn my face to his, feeling completely overwhelmed with emotion. His head turns, too, until he’s facing me. We’re still bent over the unit, we’re still both bracing our arms on our knees, and we’re both completely expressionless.

“Hi, Daddy,” I whisper, my voice quivering slightly as I watch him scanning my face.

“Fuck me,” he whispers back. “I can’t breathe.” He collapses to the floor on his back and stares up at the ceiling.

I straighten myself out and roll my shoulder blades a little. I feel all stiff. “Are you okay?” I ask, looking down at him. This wasn’t what I expected, but then his mouth starts twitching and his greens land on me. He jumps up and seizes me in his arms, lifting me clean from my feet on a shocked squeal. “What’s the matter with you?”

He paces quickly into the bedroom and places me on the bed way too gently, yanking my towel away before crawling up above me and settling his body between my thighs and resting his chin on my stomach. He looks up at me with the most incredible amount of contentment in his eyes. They are twinkling madly; his damp hair is all over the place and his frown line and chewed lip are nowhere to be seen. How could I have ever doubted this when he’s looking so relaxed, like I’ve just given him life? Well, I have, I suppose. Or he has given life to me. Either or, my husband is one happy man, and now that I may have gotten my own head around this, I can see clearly—very,
very
clearly. He has more than enough love to share. This devastating man, this ex-playboy, will be an amazing daddy, if a little overprotective. I’ve not just given him life, a life revived and worthy, by giving him me. I’ve given him new life, too—a part of him and a part of me combined. And seeing him so unbelievably euphoric has chased away every single doubt. I can have a baby with this man.

“I love you,” he says quietly. “So much.”

I smile. “I know.”

He presses his lips to my stomach tenderly, and then strokes it softly. “And I love you, too,” he whispers to my flat belly. He circles his nose around my bellybutton before he works his way up the bed and lays himself all over me. My hair is brushed from my face and he gazes down at me. “I’ll try to be better. With you, I mean. I’ll try not to smother you and make you crazy.”

“I like you smothering me. It’s the unreasonableness that we need to work on.”

“Give me specifics,” he prompts.

“You want to know exactly what drives me crazy?”

“Yes, tell me. I can’t try to control it if I don’t know exactly what bothers you.” He drops a chaste kiss on my lips, and I struggle to prevent a laugh. He doesn’t know? We could be here for the rest of the year, but I’ll focus on my main grievance for now.

“You treated me too gently. When you thought I was pregnant, you stopped being fierce in the bedroom and I didn’t like it. I want my dominant Jesse back.”

He pulls back and his eyebrows shoot up. “What the hell have I done to you?”

“You’re addictive, and lately I’ve been having Jesse withdrawal.” I’m frank and honest with my answer. I need to get this out because another eight-ish months with gentle Jesse might send me crazy.

His frown line flickers straight across his brow. “I’ve taken you hard lately.”

“Yes, but only when you thought I wasn’t pregnant, and when you thought I
was
, I had to provoke you into it. I want shock and awe.”

His frown deepens further. “Don’t you like sleepy sex?”

I sigh and reach up to grab his cheeks. “You won’t hurt it, you know.”

“It?” He laughs. “Let’s get one thing straight, lady. We will not be calling my baby
it
.”

“It’s hardly a baby at the moment.”

“What is it, then?”

“Well, it’s probably more like a peanut.” I watch as his eyes sparkle delightedly and a cheeky grin spreads across that otherworldly face. “Oh no, Ward!” I laugh.

“What?” He leans down and rubs his nose up my cheek. “It’s perfect.”

“I am not referring to our baby as
peanut
! End of!” I yelp as I’m grabbed on my sensitive hipbone, and I start bucking under him, somewhere between delight and torture—the torture for obvious reasons and the delight because this is normal. This is us. “Stop!” I cry.

And he does. “Shit!” he curses.

“What are you doing?” I shout angrily. He looks down at my stomach and then back up at me, his expression shamed. “See.” I hit him with critical eyes. “That is what I mean! If you don’t reinstate some of your normal behavior soon, then I’ll be moving to my parents’ for the rest of this pregnancy.” I’m not even being dramatic. I absolutely will. “I mean it, Ward. All of the fierceness, the rough, the countdowns and fuckings of various degrees, I want them back, and I want them now.”

He’s just looking at his wife like she’s a complete nutcase. I think she is. “Calmed down yet?” he asks seriously.

“That depends on whether any of this is sinking into this thick skull of yours.” I reach for his hair and yank it.

“Ouch!” He laughs a little and then sighs, rolling over onto his back and taking me with him. His knees come up to support my back, and he studies me thoughtfully. I let him. I sit and wait for him to piece together what he wants to say until he inhales deeply. “Do you remember when I found you at the bar, when I showed you how to dance?”

I smile as I relax against his thighs behind me. “That was the night I realized I’d fallen in love with you.”

“I know because you told me.”

“Hmm. Must have been the dancing.”

“I know.” His shoulders jump up casually. “I’m good.”

I shake my head at his impertinence. “You’re arrogant.”

“It would seem that I’m a little brighter than my beautiful wife,” he says, wrapping his palms around my ankles.

“You’re
really
arrogant.”

“No, not this time. This time I’m just honest. You see, I realized that I was in love with you way before then.”

I pout. “Does that make you cleverer than me?”

“Yes, it does. The whole time you were running, I was so frustrated. I was thinking there must’ve been something wrong with you.” He smiles shyly. “You know, because you wouldn’t submit to me.”

“Like the others did.”

He nods, and I sigh.

“It was only because I knew I’d get hurt. Even though I didn’t know you, it was obvious you…” I pause briefly. “Were experienced.” I was going to say a womanizer, but I don’t think Jesse could be labeled that at all. Women threw themselves at his feet, made it easy for him, so he didn’t need to resort to chasing. Until he met me.

His fingertips start tracing up my shins, and he watches their path. “When I left you for those four days…”

“Don’t!” I blurt. “Please don’t talk about that.”

“Just let me explain something. It’s important.” He reaches up and pulls me down so we’re nose to nose. “I was so confused by what I was feeling. It took that time away from you to piece together exactly what it was. I couldn’t work out why I was behaving like a madman. I really did think I was going fucking crazy, Ava.”

I absolutely do not relish these reminders. I already know why he left me. I don’t need to hear it all again.

He has a little nibble of his lip, right under my nose, and then presses on. “I spent day three and four reliving every single moment with you. I replayed them repeatedly until I was torturing myself, so I came to find you. Then you fucking ran again.”

Of course I ran again. My instincts didn’t fail me. Even if I wasn’t wholly sure of why I should be running, I knew I had to.

“Ava, the night you told me you loved me, everything became so fucking clear, but at the same time it was a massive blur. I wanted you to love me, but I knew you didn’t really know me. I knew there were things that would make you run again, but I also knew that I belonged to you, and it scared me to fucking death to think that once you started unraveling it all, you’d be off again. I couldn’t risk it, not after it took me so long to find you.” His eyes close and he takes a further deep breath of confidence. “I took your pills that night.”

I’m not even shocked. He’s confessed, not only to stealing them, but why he did. It makes sense to him in his crazy world, and, worryingly, it kind of does to me.

His lips press to mine softly. “I sat there all night and watched you sleeping, and all I thought about was every reason for you not to want me. I knew it was wrong to take them, but I saw it as collateral. That’s how desperate I was.”

I relax into him, my face falling into his neck. “So you don’t want a baby? You just want to keep me?”

He pulls me out of his neck and hits me with his smile, reserved only for me. “I want everything in the world with you, baby, and I want it all yesterday.”

Deep down, I think I knew that, too. “Thank you for my watch.”

He smiles and reaches up to drag his finger across my bottom lip. “You’re more than welcome.”

I fall to his lips and lose myself in him. It’s slow, it’s soft, it’s exquisite. It’s just how it’s supposed to be in this moment.

T
he familiar sound of whirring and banging wakes me, and knowing where to find him. I take myself down to the gym. I stand on the other side of the glass door and watch his sweat-drenched back flexing and rippling as he pounds the treadmill. Opening the door quietly, I wander in and take myself around the front of the machine, sitting my naked arse on the weight bench in front of him.

He’s running very fast, and when I lean back on my arms, he slams his fist on the slow button and starts a steady pace down until he’s stopped completely. My sleepy eyes are beside themselves, watching as he grabs a towel and runs it through his hair and over his face. He’s a mass of pure, solid, shimmering sweatiness. I could eat him.

I’m being watched very closely as he bends forward and rests his forearms on the front of the machine. “Morning.” His eyes run down my front and all the way back up again until he’s back at my eyes.

“Morning yourself. Why are you running in here?”

“I fancied a change.”

I throw him a questioning look, but don’t bother challenging him on it. If pregnancy stops him from dragging me out of bed at sunrise for a trek around London, then I’m looking more forward to the next eight months. “I don’t remember falling asleep.”

“You went out like a light. You’re sleeping for England, baby.”

At that comment, I yawn and stretch my arms over my head. “What time is it?” Just as the words leave my lips, I hear the front door open and shut, and then the cheerful calling of Cathy. If Cathy’s here, then it’s got to be eight o’clock-ish, and I’m stark bollock naked! I jump up. “I’m naked!”

He smirks and steps down from the treadmill. “So you are.” He laughs, walking over to me. “Whatever will Cathy think?”

I do a quick scan of the gym, looking for a towel or anything to conceal my naked form so I can escape upstairs with my dignity still intact. I laugh to myself. I lost my dignity the morning Cathy walked in on us
both
naked. My eyes land on the towel in Jesse’s hand, and I quickly snatch it from his grasp to flap it out.

“I don’t think that’ll quite cover it,” he muses smugly.

He’s right. It’s little more than a face cloth. “Help me.” I lift pleading eyes to him and find a soft smile.

“Come here.” He opens his arms, and I walk right into them, lifting myself up in my usual chimpish manner. His damp skin is slippery and smells delicious.

Walking to the gym door, he opens it and sticks his head out. “Cathy?” he calls.

“Yes, boy?”

“Where are you?”

“In the kitchen.”

With that confirmation, he slips out and takes the stairs quickly. I watch over his shoulder as we rise, praying that Cathy doesn’t come to investigate. She doesn’t. I make it to the safety of the master suite with my dignity still whole.

“There.” He places me on my feet and drops a kiss on my forehead.

“What time is it?”

“Ten to eight.”

I roll my eyes and point an accusing glare at him. “Why didn’t you wake me?” I walk off to the bathroom.

“You needed to sleep.”

“Not for fifteen hours.” I flip the shower on and step straight into the water, not bothering to wait for it to warm. I need waking up.

“You obviously do need it,” he mumbles from the other side of the glass as he removes his running shoes.

I slip past him, dry my hair, apply my makeup,
and
get dressed in ten minutes flat, then head downstairs.

“Morning, Cathy.” I take my phone off the charger and slip it in my bag.

“Ava, you look a little brighter.” Cathy dries her hands on the front of her apron and does a little assessment of me. “Yes, much brighter.”

“I feel it.”

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“Oh, I’m late, Cathy. I’ll grab something at work.” I throw my bag over my shoulder.

“You’ll eat!” Jesse’s stern, take-no-shit voice hits me from behind, and I turn to find a scowl fixed to his face as he fastens his tie. “She’ll have a bagel, Cathy. With eggs.” He seems to consider something for a second. “Actually, no eggs.”

My eyes widen. “Cathy, thank you, but I’ll eat at work.” I walk out of the kitchen, leaving Jesse with his jaw slightly gaping.

I slam the penthouse door behind me. No run. I
will
eat. No eggs. My contentment was short-lived. I stab at the elevator keypad, but it doesn’t open, so I restab, getting myself more and more worked up. “No eggs?” I yell at the row of numbers when the door still doesn’t shift.

“You okay?”

I swing around and find my neurotic control freak with his hands draped loosely in his trouser pockets, watching me lose my temper with the innocent keypad.

“I can eat eggs!” I yell at him. “What’s the new code?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard.” I bash the pad with the side of my fist.

“Yes, I heard. But I’m giving you a chance to retract that tone.” He’s completely straightfaced and unaffected by my little outburst, while my eyes have just bulged at his insolence.

I walk up to him, calm and composed, and reach up on my tiptoes so I’m as near as possible to his nauseatingly splendid face—the one I want to smash in at this particular moment in time. “Fuck…off.” I breathe on him before stomping off toward the stairwell, praying he hasn’t taken the initiative to change the code on this door yet. He hasn’t. I smile smugly as I push my way through. Thirteen floors is going to kill me, but I start tackling them anyway.

By floor seven, I’ve removed my heels and by floor four, I have to stop and take a breather. I’m hot, sweaty, and I feel sick. “Fucking man,” I grumble, taking a deep breath and carrying on my way. I push my way through the fire door and walk straight into that damn chest, before being pushed back into the stairwell. I don’t even try to battle free from his grasp. I’m absolutely beat.

I’m lifted from my feet and held in place against the concrete wall. I’m damp with sweat and panting heavy, exhausted breaths in his face.

“You’re not getting an apology fuck,” I practically wheeze all over him. I’m struggling to fight off his potency, but I’m not yielding to this. It’s no eggs today, but it’ll be something more extreme tomorrow.

His lips form a straight line and his green eyes narrow. “Mouth!”

“No! You are not—” That’s as far as I get before his mouth hits mine, attacking me full force. I know exactly what he’s doing, but that doesn’t stop my bag from dropping to the ground and my hands from grappling at his suit-covered back. This is the Jesse I know and love. I couldn’t be happier. I moan. I yank at his jacket. I pull his hair and bite at his lip.

“Stubborn woman.” He works up to my ear and bites down. “Someone’s gagging for it.” He kisses the sensitive void under my lobe, and I shudder from top to toe. “Shall I make you scream in the stairwell, Ava?”

Oh good Lord, I want him to fuck me in the stairwell. “Yes.”

He pulls away, letting me slide down the wall to my feet, and then rearranges his groin area while observing my shocked face under hooded eyes. “Would love to, but I’m late.”

“You bastard,” I spit out, trying desperately to compose myself. I stoop and grab my bag before pushing the door open and clinking on my frustrated heels through the foyer.

“Good morning, Ava.” Clive’s fresh, happy tone irritates me.

I just about manage a low grunt as I pass, walking out into the sunshine and putting my sunglasses on, immediately loving the fact that my present isn’t here, but my Mini is. He’ll have to let me out, and he’d better. I jump in and start her up, and there’s an immediate tap on my window. “Yes?” I ask as the glass pane lowers.

“I’ll take you to work.” It’s that tone.

I do the window back up. “No, thank you.” I reverse out of the space before pulling my phone from my bag and dialing Lusso. “Morning, Clive.” My greeting is a million miles away from the grunt that I’ve just given the old boy.

“Ava?”

“Could you open the gates?”

“Of course. I’ll do it now.”

“Thank you, Clive.” A smug, private smile breaks the corners of my lips, and I chuck my phone on the passengers’ seat as the gates start to open. I don’t hang around. I drive straight out of the car park, catching Jesse’s arms waving around above his head before he stalks back into the foyer.

I fall through the office doors a whole half an hour late. I’m still slightly sweaty, I’m even more out of breath, and my frustration is obvious, especially when I throw my bag across my desk and it takes my pen pot with it, the loud clatter attracting the attention of my work colleagues.

“Feeling better?” Tom asks, his inquisitive gaze running the length of my clammy form.

“Yes!” I bark, wrenching my bag to the floor and collapsing into my chair. I take a few calming breaths and turn my swivel chair, finding three sets of raised eyebrows. “What?”

“You look terrible,” Victoria pipes up. “Maybe you should’ve stayed off work.”

“I can pick you a Starbucks up,” Sally offers sweetly.

I soften my scowling face at the expressions all pointed at me, which have now turned from curious to concerned. I forgot that I was supposedly ill yesterday. “Thanks, Sal. That would be lovely.”

She walks over to her desk and pulls some money from the petty cash tin. “Anyone else?”

Tom and Victoria both shout their orders at Sal, who barely holds back to hear them before leaving the office promptly. I turn my computer on and load up my e-mail account. Tom and Victoria are standing at the end of my desk in a blink of an eye.

“You look pasty,” Tom observes, twirling a pen in his fingers, his turquoise shirt and yellow tie playing havoc with my tired eyes.

“Really pale, Ava. Are you sure you’re okay?” Victoria sounds and looks more concerned than Tom, who just looks damn right suspicious.

I start flicking through my e-mail, highlighting and deleting the mass of junk. “I’m fine. Where’s Patrick?” It’s only now I’ve noticed my boss hasn’t come to investigate the noise.

“Personal meetings,” they chant in unison, and I look up on a frown.

“Wasn’t he in private meetings yesterday?”

“He’ll be in tomorrow,” Tom tells me as he strolls off to his desk, Victoria following.

The office door opens and a woman with a basket draped over her arm walks in. “Ava Ward?” She looks at Tom, and then follows his pointed pen over to me.

“Hi,” I say as she makes it to my desk and rests her hamper on the edge. “Can I help you?”

She pulls the gingham towel from the top of the carrier and my eyes naturally follow her hand into it. “Breakfast.” She smiles, placing a paper bag in front of me, and then reaches back in and pulls out a takeaway coffee cup. “My coffee wasn’t good enough, so he had me pick one up from Starbucks. Cappuccino, extra shot, no chocolate or sugar. Enjoy.” And with that she turns and walks out.

I sigh and push the bag to the side. I’m not in the least bit hungry, but I’m dying for some coffee. I take a sip and immediately screw my face up at the bitter taste. “Ewww.”

“All right?” Tom frowns across the office at me.

“Fine.” I stand and take myself into the kitchen, removing the lid from my coffee and tipping sugar into the cup before giving it a good stir and taking another sip. I hum in sweet satisfaction.

“Coffee for Ava!” Sally walks into the kitchen, waving a Starbucks cup at me. “Oh?” A look of complete confusion invades her face as she watches me gulping down the hot, sweet liquid.

I exhale happily. “Delivered, courtesy of my husband.”

She melts. “That’s so sweet.”

“No, actually, it wasn’t, but I added a few myself.” I walk past a puzzled Sal, back to my desk. I’m digging through my bag when I hear my phone shout the arrival of a text.

I take another swig of my coffee and text back:

I don’t get a chance to put my phone down before it chimes again.

My eyes instinctively lift and there he is, holding a bunch of calla lilies and with an annoyed glare drilling into me. I can’t prevent the long, drawn out exhale of air that rushes from my mouth as I lower myself to my chair. He strides over, giving Tom and Victoria a nod in greeting, before sinking his tall leanness into a chair on the other side of my desk, placing the flowers in front of me. “Eat,” he orders flatly, nodding at the paper bag that’s been shoved to the side.

“I’m not hungry, Jesse.”

He leans forward, looking worried, his eyes evaluating my face. “Baby, you look pale.”

“I feel like rubbish,” I admit. Finally morning sickness at the correct time of day. There is no point in feigning
fine
because I absolutely don’t feel it and I clearly don’t look it.

He rises and comes to stand behind my chair, leaning down and placing his palm across my brow and his lips to my ear. “You’re hot.”

“I know.” I sigh, pushing my cheek to his mouth, my eyes closing with no instruction from my brain. “I hope you feel guilty,” I say quietly. I’m feeling sorry for myself.

I’m released and he swivels my chair around to face him. He crouches in front of me and takes my hands. “Let me take you home.”

“It’ll pass.”

“You’re impossible sometimes.” He reaches up to cup my cheek. “Pregnancy is making you moody and even more defiant.”

I force a small smile. “I like keeping you on your toes.”

“You mean you like keeping me crazy.”

“That, too.”

Sighing, he leans in and kisses me sweetly. “Please eat.” He’s begging, not demanding. “It might make you feel better.”

“Okay,” I agree. I’m willing to try because even though the thought of swallowing food makes me want to gag, I couldn’t possibly feel any worse than I already do.

He looks a little surprised at my lack of disobedience. “Good girl.”

I’m turned back toward my desk and presented with the paper bag. As I open it, the waft of bacon hits my nose and I
do
actually gag. “I don’t think I can.” I snap the bag shut again, but it’s soon whipped from my hand, the bagel unpacked and placed on a napkin in front of me. As I gingerly pick at a corner and bring it to my lips, I’m fighting the overwhelming desire to run to the toilets and shove my fingers down my throat. I chew slowly for an age, under the watchful eye of my worried husband, then swallow. I don’t retch.