This Man Confessed (8 page)

I’m pinned against the wall, absorbing his ferocious attack, and I want it even harder. I’ve had two weeks of gentle Jesse. I’ve had enough of gentle Jesse, but I can’t speak. I bore down on every advance, my signal that I
do
want it harder. I want it so much harder.

“Answer the fucking question!”

“Harder!” I scream, grappling at his hair.

“Fuck!” His hips piston forward repeatedly, his momentum and stamina staggering, and I’m loving every hard, forceful strike.

The pit of my stomach starts to burn, and I’m knocked out by a climax that rushes forward so fast, I don’t have a chance to prepare myself for it. I explode, my eyes clenching shut, my head thrown back on a desperate scream.

“I’m not done yet, Ava!” he shouts, shifting his hands under my thighs and powering forward.

Neither am I. That orgasm has sent me dizzy, but there is another on the way, assisted rapidly by his relentless power. I find his lips and kiss him deeply, tightening my legs around his hips to the point of pain, my screams and his yells colliding between our mouths. I throw my head back. “Oh God!”

“Eyes!” he shouts severely.

I obey immediately and fist my hands in his hair as he stops dead, heaving and sweating. The fire at my core recedes immediately, but then he groans and rears back, and I brace myself for more power. He strikes, really hard. My back smashes against the wall on a shocked yell, but he doesn’t give me time to gather myself. He pulls straight back and hits me with another forceful pound. He’s lost any control he had. This is going to be
really
hard. I strengthen my grip on his hair and try to flex my legs, giving him the access his body’s demanding.

“Hard enough for you, Ava?” he shouts, thrashing into me again.

“Yes!” I scream. He’s unforgiving. He repeatedly drives into me, each hit getting harder. My mind is blanking out, my body has gone lax, and I’m sky high on pleasure. But then I feel my back leaving the wall as I’m yanked forward and taken to the bed. He practically throws me down and flips me onto my hands and knees before taking a standing position behind me and grabbing my hips. He reenters me on a brutal pound and a frenzied bark, yanking me back to meet him with each advance of his powerful hips. My face goes straight into the sheets, my hands grasping at the material, a full-on sweat breaking out. I’m soaking wet.

“Jesse!” I scream his name in delirious, delightful despair.

“You wanted it, Ava. Don’t fucking complain.” He bangs into me again, harder still. He’s releasing all of the pent-up, animalistic power he’s been suppressing for way too long. He’s really lost control, and a small part of me is wondering if he’s doing this on purpose—trying to shock me or scare me back into the realms of sleepy sex. He’s going to fail miserably if that’s his plan. My body needs this. I need this.

I drag my twisted mind back to now and focus on meeting his power with acceptance. I accept all of it, the violent accumulation of pressure in my belly working its way straight to my core, ready for detonation. This is going to blow my brain clean out of my head.

“Harder!” I shout, grasping at the sheets.

“Ava!” His fingers flex on my hips and clamp down, the unforgiving hold on my sensitive area not bothering me in the slightest. I’m too busy concentrating on the body-splitting orgasm that’s looming.

And then it hits me, taking me by surprise again and sending me out of this world on pleasure. I scream. He yells. Then I collapse on the bed, Jesse following me down, his leanness completely covering me. His breathing is harsh in my ear and our sweat-ridden bodies are flush and heaving severely. I feel completely replete. I’m utterly exhausted, but I feel so much better. It feels like us again.

He groans, his groin circling deeply, the fire of his release heating me and putting me back together again. “Thank you,” I pant, closing my eyes and finding immense comfort in his strong, frantic heartbeat clattering against my back. He doesn’t say anything. The only sound in the colossal master suite is our collective, erratic breathing. It’s loud, it’s heavy, and it’s satisfied. But then he breaks away from me, and the absence of his warmth coating my body makes me immediately turn over to see what he’s doing. He’s walking away, his hands clenching his head as I watch his naked back disappear into the bathroom. I’m still fighting to get my heartbeat steady and my breathing paced, but instead of feeling sated and blissful, I feel uncertain and guilty. I’ve made him lose his restraint. I’ve pushed him, tempted him, and sent him over the edge of self-control, and now, even though I got my way, I feel guilt-ridden. He’s been struggling to rein in his command over my body, although
why
is what I should be worried about. I’ve accepted that I’ll never completely understand him. I’ve accepted all of his flaws and challenging ways. They are all part of the man I love deeply—the man I share a connection with that is so potent, it’s sent us both crazy. We share an intensity that cripples us both.

He appears in the bathroom doorway, still naked, still wet and with his chest still rising and falling noticeably. I’m staring at him. He’s staring at me.

Sitting up and pulling my knees to my chest, I feel small and awkward. It shouldn’t be like this between us.

“I’ve been taking your pills.” His jaw ticks and his neck muscles bulge.

The words, spoken with no remorse or regret, widen my eyes and straighten my back. His face is expressionless, and even though I knew, I’m shocked. Hearing him say it aloud, confessing to it, is increasing my already speeding heart rate.

“I said I’ve been taking your pills.” He sounds angry.

This can’t be ignored any longer. I can feel the dormant anger sizzling inside of me, pushing me to release it. My period is due tomorrow, and I’m certain it’s not going to arrive. This man, my crazy husband, has just completely and unashamedly confessed to stealing my birth control pills, and now my denial is converting into blood-boiling fury.

“Ava, for fuck’s sake, woman!” His hands fly to his head in frustration. “I’ve been taking your fucking pills!”

I don’t even try to reason because there is absolutely nothing reasonable about this.

I snap.

My naked body flies up from the bed and as I pace toward him, he watches me closely, cautiously, until I’m standing before him. Then I slap him clean across his face. My palm is instantly on fire, but I’m too angry to focus on the pain. His head has turned to the side, his eyes are down, and I can still only hear our fitful breathing, except now they’re not sated, heavy breaths; they’re anger-fuelled gasps. He brings his face back up and before I’m aware of what I’m doing, my hand is flying out again, but this time he catches my wrist in front of his face. I yank myself free and proceed to thump his chest with both fists in a frenzied lashing out of anger. And he lets me. He just stands there and takes my deranged beating, my fists persistently striking him as I scream and wail, and when I think I might collapse with exhaustion, I step back and lose control of my tears.

“Why?” I shout at him.

He doesn’t try to touch me or come toward me. He just remains standing in the doorway, still with no emotion on his face. His frown line isn’t even there, but I know he must be concerned, and he must be really concentrating on not restraining his deranged wife.

“You were ignoring it, Ava. I need you to acknowledge this.” His voice is soft and even. “I needed to spike a reaction from you.”

I thought I just needed to hear him say it—to admit that he’s been underhanded and deceitful. I was wrong. Now I want to know why, and the burning anger inside of me is telling me that no excuse is going to calm me.

“Tell me why the fucking hell you did this to me!”

“Because I wanted to keep you forever,” he whispers.

It’s not good enough.

I turn and head for the wardrobe, wasting no time grabbing my jeans and yanking them on once I’m there.

“What are you doing?” His voice is full of the fear I knew it would be. He’ll never cope with this, but neither will I if I stay. This has suddenly hit me very hard.

I don’t answer him, instead focusing on getting my bra and T-shirt on before I tug down an overnight bag.

“Ava, what the hell are you doing?” The bag is snatched from my hand. “You’re not leaving me.” His words are somewhere between a demand and a plea.

“I need some space.” I seize the bag back and start stuffing my clothes in.

He grips my arm, but I pull myself free. “Ava, please.”

“Please what?” My clothes are being yanked and rammed into my bag viciously, but I worry I might turn on Jesse again if I don’t focus on this, and I can’t bring myself to look at him. I know what I’ll see.

Fear.

“Please, Ava, don’t go.”

I turn and storm past him, heading for the bathroom to collect my toiletries. He’s not restraining me, and I know why. It’s the same reason he’s been delicate with me for weeks. Because he thinks he’ll hurt his baby.

He’s behind me, I know he is, but I continue gathering my things, fighting the overwhelming need to lash out, but at the same time, fighting the need to comfort him. I’m so confused.

“Ava, please, let’s talk about this.”

I swing around in shock. “Talk?”

He nods sheepishly. “Please.”

“What is there to talk about? You’ve done the most underhanded thing possible. Nothing you could say will make me understand this. This is my life!”

“But you knew I was taking them.”

“Yes, I did! But perhaps because of all the other shit you’ve thrown on me since I’ve met you, I didn’t consider how fucked-up this really is. Wanting to keep me isn’t good enough. That’s not a decision you get to make on your own!” I try to calm myself, but I’m fighting a losing battle. “What about me?” I scream in his face. “What about what I want?”

“But I love you.”

My grip on my bag tightens until my fingers are numb. I’m seriously losing the plot. I walk past him and quickly make my way downstairs.

“Ava!”

I ignore him and keep going. The anger bubbling inside me has shocked me as much as it’s shocked Jesse. This is past controlling. This is unforgivable. I don’t want a baby.

“Ava, stay. I’ll do anything.” His heavy footsteps are close behind me, but he’s nude, and as much as I know that he has no shame, I know he wouldn’t run out in public completely naked.

When I reach the door, I turn to face him. “You’ll do anything?”

“Yes. You know that.” His terrified face nearly makes me throw my arms around his big shoulders. But if I let this one go, then I’m setting myself up for a lifetime of manipulating. I can’t do that. We need some time apart. This is too intense, and perhaps I should have thought about that before I married him, but it’s too late now. I might have made the biggest mistake of my life.

“Then you’ll give me some space.”

I walk out.

K
ate’s not at home, so I let myself in and make my way upstairs to my old room. After sitting on the bed for an eternity ignoring Massive Attack’s “Angel,” I finally drag myself up and have a long shower. Under the hot spray, I soap everywhere, running the sponge absentmindedly over my body and pausing when I reach my stomach. I feel devoid of any emotion. There are no natural motherly instincts in me that make me want to caress my tummy. I’ve never given motherhood a second thought. I’m too young, and I have a flourishing career to concentrate on. He had no right to do this. But he had no right to claim me so aggressively, yet he did. He has no right to dictate what I wear, but he does. And he has no right to trample all over my life with his overbearing, unreasonable, and challenging ways…but he does. And I let him. I fight him on many things, but he mostly gets his way. Not on this, though. I have accepted many things where Jesse is concerned, but I absolutely cannot accept this. And I won’t.

I remove myself from the shower and dry myself off before crossing the landing to my room and throwing on a baggy T-shirt and some sweatpants. Then I crawl into the cold sheets of my old bed. It’s hard, it’s lumpy, and it hasn’t got Jesse in it, but I’m on my own, and it’s where I need to be right now.

I wake up to shouting—very loud shouting. Pulling the sheets back, I slip out of bed and pad across my room, opening the door quietly.

“I said it’s over!” Kate screams. “This isn’t going anywhere!”

Oh shit, I shouldn’t be listening to this, but my curiosity is getting the better of me. I can see Kate’s back down the hallway, and I pray the next person who I’m going to see will be Dan. But it’s not. It’s Sam. My already aching heart takes a further nosedive for my troubled best friend.

“Kate, come on.” Sam’s voice is beseeching and a little confused.

“Just go, Sam.” She stomps off across the landing, straight into the kitchen where she’s obviously opening and slamming every cupboard door in sight. Sam follows her in.

“What’s brought all this on?” he asks. “What’s changed?”

“Nothing!” There’s a further collection of bangs before she’s coming back out of the kitchen and marching into the lounge. I catch a glimpse of her pale face, looking no brighter than this morning. I know that expression. That’s her stubborn, I’m-not-being-honest face. I could throttle the stupid cow.

“Obviously something has!” Sam almost laughs, but it’s a nervous laugh. It’s a laugh that clearly indicates worry. Sam really does like Kate. A lot.

“Just go,” she spits out shortly.

“No! Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on!”

I can’t see them, so I creep out quietly, scolding myself for being so nosey, but I need to hear this because I’m just as intrigued as Sam. I suspect I know, which is just spiking my already fraying patience.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

He laughs properly this time. “Yes, I think you do!”

I catch a glimpse of Sam trying to hold Kate in place, but the stubborn cow just shrugs him off. “No, I don’t. We were fucking, nothing more. It was fun while it lasted.” Her cold words slice through me, so I can only imagine what they’ve done to Sam.

He doesn’t say anything, but I see the slight shake of his head. “Fun?” he repeats. “Just fun?”

“Yes. Not anymore, though. I’ve had all the fun I’m going to have with you.”

My mouth gapes: just when I thought she couldn’t be any colder. She’s on fire. Sam’s body shifts, and I know he’s leaving, so I creep slowly and quietly back to my room and push the door shut.

I hear the front door slam, and then the unmistakable sound of sobbing. Kate’s crying. She never cries. I’m infuriated with her, but feeling incredibly sorry for my stupid best friend. I can’t help but think that this never would have happened if Dan wasn’t here.

I could stay in my room and let her have her tears, but instead of letting Kate grieve in peace, I step out and walk across the landing to the lounge. I’m not letting her brush this off later. If I witness her turmoil, then she has to admit that she is, in fact, in turmoil. She’s not evading me this time.

I lean up against the door frame and watch for an eternity as her shoulders jerk and she cries relentlessly. My instincts tell me to sit beside her and cuddle her, but I don’t, and after a good ten minutes, she harshly brushes her cheeks and stands, turning and immediately clocking me in the doorway. As I knew she would, she plasters on an unaffected face and tries to smile. It’s insulting to my intelligence and our friendship.

“Hey,” she chirps on a suppressed sniffle.

“All right?” I ask, not removing myself from the doorway.

“Sure I am. What are you doing here?” She straightens her T-shirt out, diverting her glazed eyes all over her body instead of facing me.

“My car’s outside. You didn’t see it?”

She still doesn’t look at me. “No. What are you doing here?”

I ignore her repeated question. I’m not going to allow her to change the subject. And what would I tell her, anyway? I’ve been married for less than a day and I’ve turned up at her flat with a packed bag. “You probably didn’t take much notice. You know, as you were fighting with Sam.”

Her eyes whip to mine. “Oh,” she says quietly, then insults me further by smiling brightly. “Tea?”

“No,” I answer coolly. “An explanation would be good, though.” I know my eyebrows have just risen expectantly, and I must sound like a nagging parent, but I’m not caving in.

She laughs a little. “An explanation to what?”

“Well, we could start with your little performance last night with my brother, and then you could try explaining why you’ve just finished with Sam.”

“There was nothing to finish.”

“What about my brother?”

“It’s none of your business.” She goes to walk past me, but I shift, blocking her escape. “Move, Ava.”

“No. You’ll sit and talk to me. We’re supposed to be friends.” I grab her arm and drag her over to the couch, pushing her reluctant body down onto the soft cushion. “What’s going on, Kate?”

She flops back irritably. “Nothing.”

“Oh, you make me mad,” I spit out. “Start talking, Matthews.”

She bursts into tears. I’m so relieved. I was on the cusp of slapping her for being so tenacious, but now my arm is around her and she’s sobbing into my chest. I don’t know about Kate, but I feel so much better for this. She
does
care.

I try to soothe her. “Let’s start with Sam.”

“I told you, it was only meant to be fun.” Her words jerk with her fitful breathing.

“Was?” I ask. “So it’s more than fun?”

“Yes…no…I don’t know!” She sounds so confused, just like me.

“I knew this would happen with Dan arriving.” I sigh. If I was talking to my brother, I’d be shouting down the phone at him. “Kate, you need to remember every reason why you and Dan called it quits.”

“I know. We’re so bad for each other, but we connect, Ava. When we’re together, we connect so well.”

“You mean the sex.” I wince and screw my face up a little. I can’t think of my brother like that.

“Yes, but everything else fails so horribly.”

“It does,” I agree. I’ve witnessed the violent rows, the incessant need to rile each other, and the unhealthy flow of their doomed relationship. They had no respect for each other—not mentally or physically. It was all just about the sex. At the time, I ignored it all, simply because the thought of my best friend and my brother being in love was so ideal. That was the problem, though. They weren’t in love. It was just lust.

She shifts in my embrace and sits up, taking a few calming breaths. “I hate men,” she declares.

“You shouldn’t, especially when there’s one who obviously thinks the world of you.”

She looks at me curiously. “Sam?”

I almost slap her for her blindness. “Yes, Sam.”

“Ava.” She laughs. “Sam doesn’t think the world of me. I make the world
move
for him, that’s all—in the bedroom.”

“You mean you connect so well?” I raise my eyebrows at her. “Except with Sam, you also get the mental connection.”

She scowls at me. She knows I’m right. “It was just fun.”

It’s me who flops back on the couch in irritation this time. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No, I’m a realist,” she argues. “It was sex.”

“So why the hell were you blubbering like a baby?”

“I don’t know.” She stands up. “I feel like shit. It gets the emotions going. You want tea?”

“Yes,” I huff, standing to join her before following her into the kitchen.

She reaches up to the cupboard and grabs a couple of mugs. “Why are you here, anyway?”

The question makes me falter midlowering of my butt to the chair. Should I tell her? A brush-off here is not going to suffice, but she openly admits to her fondness of Jesse, and this could change her opinion dramatically. Even though I’m seething with anger at him, I hate divulging any information that’ll have my loved ones questioning him. And questioning me, for that matter. Questioning my sanity.

I decide that I
do
need my best friend on this. I bite the bullet. “You know my pills that mysteriously kept disappearing?”

She turns and frowns before stuffing a teabag in each of the mugs. “Yes, you and your ridiculously unorganized life.”

“Hmm, that’s what I thought.” I stare at her back, waiting for her to click, but she’s happily topping up the mugs with water, and then milk. “At first, anyway.”

She stirs the tea and brings it over to the table, plunking herself down into one of the mismatching chairs. “At first?” Her confused face tells me that she really isn’t copping on. Maybe it’s the hangover.

“Jesse has been taking them.” I blurt it out quickly, before I can change my mind.

Now her confused face is frowning heavily over the rim of her mug. “He what?”

“He’s been taking my pills. He wants me pregnant.”

Eyes wide and with a slightly gaped jaw, she puts her mug down carefully. “He told you that?”

“Yes,” I breathe. “Although I kind of already knew.”

“You knew he was taking them? When you replaced them that time and lost them again?”

“I was distracted.”

“Why the hell would he do that? And didn’t you use any protection?”

“No, not always,” I mutter indignantly, bracing myself for a lecture on carelessness. I was pretty careless, but I’m now blaming Jesse for the
whole
diabolical situation, not for just lifting my pills. Yes, I should’ve made him wear protection every time, but I forgot. Lame excuse, but I did, and that is because my crazy man distracts me far too well.

Kate still looks shocked. I’m not surprised; it’s shocking. “So if you knew all along, then why didn’t you take him to task on it?”

“He would never have admitted it, Kate. He’s a madcap.” I sigh. It’s probably me who’s the insane one—insane and stupid.

“But only with you,” Kate says.

“Yes, only with me.” I take a sip of my tea. She’s watching me, but not expressing her thoughts. She must have some.

“Why would you ignore it?” she asks.

I was dreading that question, but completely expecting it, and I’m wondering the same thing myself. “I have no idea.” I feel so frustrated. I have no decent excuse.

Kate shakes her head, making me feel smaller. “I don’t understand you, and I certainly don’t understand him.”

“He was scared I’d run away,” I mumble quietly. What’s my excuse for being so dim?

“You’ve married him!” She laughs. “Fuck me, Ava. What is wrong with that man? Hey, I know he’s a bit crazy but—”

“A bit?” I scoff.

“Yeah, okay, understatement of the fucking century, but his way with you has always been so endearing to me. How much he loves you, frets, and protects you. We all know his behavior is way past unreasonable, but stealing your pills? I didn’t think that man could shock me, but he’s outdone himself this time.”

“He has,” I muse, swirling my tea in slow, careful circling motions.

“So if you knew, and he knew you knew, then why the big bust up now?”

“He may have succeeded in his attempts.”

Kate chokes on her tea. “You’re pregnant?” She coughs.

The words spike the dormant lump in my throat to swell, and before I can even think about controlling them, tears start streaming down my cheeks. I drop my tea to the table and cover my face with my palms…and I sob.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, shit!” Kate’s chair scrapes across the kitchen floor and the next thing I know, she’s standing behind me with her arms wrapped around my shoulders, hushing me quietly. I feel so stupid all of a sudden. Really, really stupid. Stupid for ignoring my suspicions for so long, stupid for not allowing the pieces to click sooner, and stupid for letting Jesse distract me from the enormity of his actions.

“My period is due tomorrow. I know it’s not coming, and so does Jesse.” I sniffle and Kate leaves me, hurrying over to a unit of drawers. “I’ve been ignoring it, which has frustrated Jesse, but I’m not ready for this, Kate. And now I just feel furious with myself and even more incensed with him. I let things pass sometimes, but this is taking control to a whole new level. I can’t let him do this.”

She hands me a tissue, and I set about wiping my nose as she takes a seat next to me. “I completely agree,” she says. I can’t believe how relieved I am to hear her say that. I know she’s very fond of Jesse, and generally nothing fazes her, not even my husband in all of his challenging ways, but this has shocked her. And I’m so glad. “What are you going to do?” she asks. “Make him sweat?”

“Have an abortion.”

Kate’s mouth hits the table. It doesn’t help.

“Kate, can you imagine what he’ll be like? He already smothers me, and I like it to a certain extent, but being pregnant?”

She scoops her chin up. “Oh God, Ava. You’ll send him to the loony bin.”

“That’s not a good enough reason,” I reply quietly. I know what this will do to him, but he hasn’t considered what any of his actions will do to me. I’m not ready for this, and he hasn’t stopped once to contemplate how I might feel. “It’s not just that. I have a career. I’m twenty-six years old. I don’t want a baby, Kate.”