This Man Confessed (37 page)

The hum of happiness has me giggling and writhing under his hot tongue. “Holy fucking shit.” He laps away, making a completely over-the-top spectacle of demolishing my breast with his tongue before flopping back and licking his lips. “I didn’t think it could taste any better. More.”

I’m grinning like an idiot as I delve back into the peanut butter. I hold my finger up. “Would sir like the right breast or the left breast?”

His face is truly torn as he swings his eyes from one breast to the other. “I don’t have time to waste. Slap it on both.”

I laugh, but follow through on his urgent order, and he’s on me again before I’ve barely removed my finger from the smothering of the first breast. “Unravel your boxers, god.” My nose falls into his hair as he ravishes me and bites my nipple for my cheek. “Ouch!”

“Sarcasm, lady.”

“Tasty?”

“I’m never eating it any other way again, so now you do have to quit work because I need you to be available to lick when I please.” He surfaces with a smear on his nose, and I home right in to suck it off. “I thought you hated peanut butter?”

“I do, but I love your nose.” I kiss the end and resume my position. “Will you do something for me?”

His facial expression changes considerably. He’s all wary again, but I’m not hiding anything this time, only a plea, which he’ll soon hear. He relaxes a little and strokes up the sides of my body. “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you to say yes before I ask,” I demand quietly and very unreasonably, but we’ve broached this before, and I got nowhere.

“You’ve been trying to butter me up.” His lips tip at the edge, and I screw my face up in irritation, placing the jar beside us.

“That’s a crap joke.”

“Pick the jar back up, lady.” He’s not grinning anymore. “We’re not done yet.”

I roll my eyes and redunk and resmear. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” My nipple is clean in no time at all. “Now, tell me what you want.”

“You have to say yes,” I press, with absolutely no faith in my strategy. Even if he does say yes, he’ll soon retract it if he wants to.

“Ava,” he says and sighs. “I’m not agreeing to anything without knowing what I’m agreeing to. End of.”

I pout. “Please.” I drag the word out and slide my freshly coated finger into his mouth.

“You’re adorable when you sulk,” he mumbles. “Just tell me.”

“I want you to revoke Sam and Kate’s memberships to The Manor.” I blurt it all out quickly and hold my breath. I’m desperate for Jesse to help me out here. I know Sam and Kate seem to have hit a significant point in their relationship, and I hope they talk, but without the temptation of The Manor, they stand a far better chance. I brace myself for his
none of our business
speech, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes, actually. He doesn’t scoff, and he doesn’t refuse. He’s just looking at me on a small smile.

“Okay.” He shrugs and dives into the jar with his own finger, spreading it on my breast.

“What?” I know I’m displaying a look of complete confusion, which is absolutely fine because I’m really confused. I didn’t even need to morph into temptress.

“I said okay.” He’s on my breast again, while my eyes are looking down at the back of his head.

“It is?” I should be showing my appreciation, not questioning him on his reasonableness.

His perfect smiling face appears in my line of sight, and his palms surround my cheeks. “Sam already canceled.”

I gasp. “I thought you were finally doing as you’re told.” I should’ve known, but my disgruntled state doesn’t detract from the happy knowledge that they will be pursuing a conventional relationship. I’m delighted.

Jesse is standing and laying us back down on the sofa in an instant. “I always do as I’m told. Come here.” The jar is taken from my hand and placed on the floor beside the couch, and then I’m pulled down to his chest. “Snuggle,” he says, exhaling contentedly.

I snort in disbelief at his ridiculous claim before nuzzling myself right up into his neck and resuming my usual skimming of his scar with my fingertip.

“Are you warm enough?” he asks, snaking his legs with mine and completely engulfing me with his strong arms.

“Hmmm.” I sigh and close my eyes, relishing in every element of his loveliness—his scent, his touch, and his heart beating against mine.

M
y sweet dreams are interrupted by coughing. I think it’s coughing. It sounds like coughing, but neither my brain nor my body are ready to greet the day yet, so I dismiss the raspy choke and push myself further into the hardness beneath me.

There it is again, and it’s becoming hard to ignore. In fact, it’s irritating the hell out of me. Peeling one eye open, the first thing I see is Jesse’s serene beauty. My irritation subsides, and I reach up to catch a feel of day number three stubble.

There’s that cough again. I think nothing of turning to locate the source of the noise, exposing a full-on frontal of nakedness to…Cathy.

“Oh shit!” I splatter myself back on my front against Jesse’s chest, the abrupt movement stirring him. “Jesse!” I whisper, like she won’t hear me. “Jesse, wake up!”

He’s smiling before his eyes open and his wandering hands cup both my bum cheeks and squeeze in acknowledgment to my voice. “If I open my eyes, I’m going to see big chocolate fuck-me ones, aren’t I?” His voice is all deep and husky, and coupled with those words would usually have my stomach clenching with sexual anticipation. But not this morning.

“No, you’re going to see big, wide, disturbed ones,” I whisper. “Open your eyes.”

He does. He reveals his greens on a furrowed brow and looks over my shoulder when I cock my head. “Oh. Morning, Cathy.”

“You two love birds need to buy some pajamas.” Cathy’s amused tone makes me cringe further. “Or at least keep your underwear on. I’ll be in the kitchen preparing breakfast.”

I hear her scurrying footsteps leaving our naked display, and I exhale in despair, dropping my head back onto his chest. He’s chuckling. “Morning, baby.” He shifts his legs so they spread and my body falls between them. “Let me see your face.”

“No.” I push it farther into his neck, like my embarrassment might disappear if I hide for long enough.

“She’s all bashful.” He’s grinning. “Shall we get you upstairs?”

“Yes,” I grumble, knowing full well that time must be knocking on with Cathy’s presence, not that I care. It’s like I’m trying to get myself sacked so I don’t have to give Jesse the satisfaction of quitting because he demanded it.

I sit up cautiously and check for Cathy’s whereabouts, then laugh loudly when Jesse sits up, too, popping his head over the back of the couch to check. He looks at me, eyebrows raised, slightly bemused by my little outburst. “What’s tickled you?”

“You look like a meerkat!” I giggle, falling back and completely exposing myself. Through my uncontrollable fit of chuckles, I reach up to arrange my bra over my chest, because that’s really going to save my modesty when I’m knickerless. “Wind your neck in!” I laugh.

He snorts a mixture of amusement and umbrage at his hysterical wife and gently pushes my body away to free his legs before standing and taking hold of my shaking body. I’m tossed up onto his shoulder, still laughing and now with the glorious view of his solid arse as he strides toward the stairs. “Where I’m from, that means something entirely different.” He slaps my arse. “It is you who needs to be doing the winding.”

“I know what it means. I was being ironic.” I run my palms over his back. “And there will be no winding of necks here.”

“A man can live in hope.” He takes the stairs two at a time, but I don’t jump and jolt all over his shoulder and he doesn’t puff or pant. No, he flies up the back-lit onyx staircase like some sort of freakishly fit paratrooper. “There.” He places me on my feet and turns the shower on. “In you get.”

“I hope you’re going to lock your office door now,” I say as a mental image of Cathy’s sweet, innocent face turning to horror pops into my mind’s eye.

He laughs. “Only for our eyes, baby. I have a key and I’ve hidden one among the piles of lace in your underwear drawer. Okay?”

“Okay,” I agree. I’m really late already, but that doesn’t stop me from stepping forward and grasping his morning erection. He flinches, and I smirk as I circle my thumb slowly over the broad head, keeping my eyes on the throbbing rod of flesh.

“Ava,” he warns weakly, stepping back, but that just means he gets a full-on stroke of my hand down the length. He hisses and his palms lift to cover his face. I’ve got him. He rubs his cheeks in a gesture that suggests it might restore some control. “If I don’t take you now, my cock is going to be aching all day long.”

“Take me,” I say quietly, remembering the words so well. I step forward to close the gap he’s made, and his palms come down, his face full of recognition.

“Oh, I will,” he replies, picking me up and placing me on the vanity unit. “You can’t escape now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Good.” He leans in and kisses me sweetly. “I like your dress.”

“I’m not wearing one, so we can’t lose it.”

He smiles around my lips, and I open my eyes, finding bright green pools of sincere happiness. “Fond memories?”

“Very. Can you pin me against the wall now?” I’ve always found him irresistible, but this incessant need to constantly have him is taking my life over. I’m late for work, I couldn’t give a shit, and I know he won’t either. His smile broadens and his face slowly starts drifting toward mine again, his eyes holding mine. His lips part. My lips part. He’s making me be patient. I’m struggling.

On the launch night of Lusso, it was a jangling of the door handle that whipped our heads to the side in shock. This time it’s Cathy’s distressed shouting. My back straightens, and I’m snapped right out of my wanton condition.

Jesse has disappeared before my eyes and I’m sitting in the bathroom, still on the unit, wondering what on earth is going on. I quickly jump down and run into the walk-in wardrobe, grabbing the first shirt that I can find, before sprinting over to the chest to retrieve some knickers, while shoving my arms in the sleeves of Jesse’s shirt and buttoning it on my way. I’m halfway down the stairs when the front door comes into view, and I see Jesse in just his white boxers removing Cathy from the doorway, where she’s doing a good job of keeping whoever is on the other side out.

“I thought it was Clive.” She wheezes, clearly exhausted from her battle.

“Cathy, I’ll deal with it.” He places her to the side and gives her arm a reassuring rub as she straightens her apron and hair.

“Who the hell does she think she is?” she spits nastily. I’ve never seen Cathy cross before.

“Cathy,” Jesse placates her gently. “Please, go and sort out some breakfast for Ava.” He’s whispering as he effortlessly holds the door shut, like he doesn’t want me to hear him, but the persistent banging from the other side is letting him down.

I look on as Cathy marches off, hissing and spitting to herself, and then my eyes fall on Jesse as I reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s spotted me, and the wary look all over his face instantly has me on edge. “What’s going on?” I ask.

“Nothing, baby.” He tries to smile but fails miserably. He’s all jittery. It doesn’t sit well. “Cathy’s making your breakfast. Go.”

“I’m not hungry,” I reply flatly, staring him down.

“Ava, you didn’t eat last night. Go and have some breakfast.” His tone is altering to impatient by the second and all the while, the banging continues.

I can’t believe he honestly thinks that his demand for me to eat is going to pull me away from the mystery behind the door. “I said I’m not hungry.” I stand firm, my eyes burning red rings of furious fire into his greens.

The door jolts, and Jesse lets out a frustrated growl, his jaw ticking wildly as he looks up to the heavens for strength. I would like to think that it’s the tenacious idiot hammering on the penthouse door who’s causing his mounting anger, but I know it’s me. “Ava, why the fuck can’t you do what you’re told?” His head drops, and I know instantly he means business. “Go. And. Get. Your. Breakfast.” He speaks each word slowly and concisely, but I mean business, too.

“No.” I steam forward, not in the least bit bothered by my half-naked body, and grasp the door handle. I pull, for what use it is, which is none at all. “Jesse, let go of the fucking door!”

“Watch your—”

“Fuck off!” I snap, yanking at the door like a deranged, hormone-pumped pregnant woman.

“Ava!” He holds it in place as I fight pointlessly to pull it open. I’ll never win, but I’m not backing down. No way.

But then we both freeze in place when a voice interrupts our spitting match, and it’s neither of ours. If I was a little cranky before, I’ve just been catapulted into the realms of psychotic. There will be no need for him to open this door because at any moment I’m going to be flying around this apartment like the Tasmanian Devil himself, and I’ll smash it down.

I look up at him with clenched teeth. He visibly sags. “What the hell is she doing here?” I use his lapse in concentration and his defeated hold to my advantage and pull the door open, coming face to face with Coral. “What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss, looking her up and down in utter contempt. Her hair is tied up today, her short black bob giving her a pathetic excuse for a ponytail—such a bitchy thought, but it’s going to be the first of many, I can feel it. And they might not
just
be thoughts.

She blanks me completely and looks straight at my bare-chested god. Why the hell didn’t he put some jeans and a T-shirt on? “I need to speak to you.” She sounds determined. “Alone,” she adds, flicking an impertinent look at me. Her fortitude will be of zero help. She’ll have to rip him from my dying hands before I leave them alone.

“You’ve got more chance of having tea with the Queen,” I snarl. My fury is building by the second, and I absolutely cannot control it. “What do you want?” I feel Jesse’s hand rest lightly on the small of my shirt-covered back. It’s a silent demand to calm myself down. It’ll never work. The more I look at this impudent hussy, the angrier I’m getting, if that’s possible. I feel like a pressure cooker set to explode. “I asked you a question.”

“Ava,” Jesse’s calming voice just infuriates me further. “Calm yourself down, baby.” His palm slides around to my front to hold my tummy. He’s worried about my blood pressure, the anxious fool. My blood pressure should be the least of his worries. Blood spilt, that’s what he should be concerned about.

“I’m calm.” I’m clearly not. “I won’t ask you again.” I push Jesse’s hand away from my stomach, but he doesn’t let me get away with it. He pulls me back so I’m slightly behind him, and then holds his arm out to the side in silent warning. It won’t work, but he starts speaking before I can wrestle his arm out of my way.

“Coral, I’ve told you before. It’s never going to happen.” His tone is tinged with anger, but after my little performance, I can’t be sure if his fury is for my benefit or Coral’s. “You need to fuck off and find someone else to stalk.”

I’m mentally cheering him on, even though I’m sure that I’m in for it when she concedes and clears off. I must look ridiculous in Jesse’s shirt, my hair a wild mass, yesterday’s makeup on, and restrained by my virtually naked husband.

Coral’s eyes cross from Jesse’s to mine a few times before she settles her smug stare on my god again. I don’t like that look. It’s bold, and I’m sure her next words will be, too. She’s going nowhere until she’s said what she came to say, and I’m annoyingly curious of what that is exactly.

“Have it your way.” She shrugs nonchalantly and holds a piece of paper out to Jesse.

“What the fuck is that?” he barks.

“Take a look for yourself.” She flaps the paper, encouraging Jesse to take it. I can’t help it; my neck is craning to try and see for myself, but his arm pushes me back again.

He snatches it, and I watch as his head drops to look, and then I look at Coral, who is performing the best sly smirk I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing. My eyes are on Jesse’s back, which is as stiff as a board, his muscles protruding, indicating his tension.

 “What is it?” The question I don’t want to ask just slips right out. But he doesn’t answer.

Coral does, though. “That is a scan picture of his baby.”

I know I stagger back, and I know he has turned to steady me, but everything is a blur. “Fucking hell.” His worried voice is nothing but a drowned-out rush of noise, and I know it’s because all of the blood is draining from my head. I feel dizzy. “Shit, Ava.” My feet disappear from under me, but I don’t hit the floor. I’ve not passed out. I’ve been scooped up, and in a split second, I’m sitting on the couch with my head being pushed between my legs. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe.” His palm is on my head, rubbing soothing, fast, anxious circles. “What the fuck are you playing at?” he yells away from me. “You stupid fucking woman! I’ve not slept with you for months!”

“Four months, and I’m four months gone.” She answers quickly and proudly. “Do the math.”

I need to get my breathing under control because the rush is still whirring and the black is starting to set in. I’ll fall flat on my face if I stand.

“You can’t be,” Jesse snaps anxiously, sounding far too unsure. “Fuck!”

This is it. That baby will be born before either of mine and knowing Jesse’s desperation for a child, he’ll take the first one he can lay his hands on. He’ll leave me. I’ll be alone with two screaming babies and no help. My babies will be fatherless. Who’s going to rub my feet when they’re swollen? Who’s going to love me in lace when I’m covered in stretch marks? Who’s going to make me eat when I’m not hungry and feed me folic acid and lick peanut butter from my breasts and paint my toenails when I can’t reach them? I start to choke on panic, but then my eyes fall onto the little piece of paper that Jesse has dropped to the floor in favor of tending to me. He didn’t look at that picture like he did of our babies’ picture. He didn’t drop to his knees or grab Coral to hug her. What is wrong with me? I feel like a mixed bag of overexaggerated emotions. I stoop and pick up the black-and-white scan picture. I’m being watched, by both of them, but I take my time, first noting Coral’s name. This is definitely hers. But what isn’t on this scan picture is a date. Neither is there an estimated gestation. I study the picture more closely.

“Ava, what are you doing?” Jesse asks, trying to get me in his field of vision, but I ignore him.