This Man Confessed (23 page)

“Escapism,” I whisper. He escaped the guilt that his parents landed on him by drinking excessively and dabbling with too many women. “What did Carmichael think of all this?”

He smiles. “He thought it was a phase, that it would pass. Then he went and died on me, too.”

“And your parents tried to make you sell The Manor.” I already know all of this.

“Yes, they soon flew home from Spain at the news of my uncle’s death. They found me, a younger version of the family black sheep, lording it up, drinking, and gorging on women. I’d experienced freedom, without them trying to mold me into suitable son material. I’d grown cocky and confident, and now I was also extremely wealthy.” His lips press into a straight line. He is full to the brim with resentment. “I told them where to shove their ultimatum. The Manor was Carmichael’s life, and then it became mine. End of.”

I thought so much was clear, but today’s tub-talk has put all other enlightenment to shame.

“Our children will be whoever they want to be.” I bite his chin. “As long as they don’t want to be playboys.”

My bum cheeks are clenched in his palms and squeezed tightly. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.”

“I think it does.”

“You’re right; it does.” He slides me up and kisses my nipple. “My mark is fading.”

“Freshen it up, then.” I push my chest into him, like the little temptress he knows me to be, and he wraps his lips around my puckered bud and laps gently. I moan, long, low, and deeply satisfied, my nose rubbing through his wet locks and taking a hit of his delicious scent.

“Nice?” he asks, clamping down with his teeth.

“Hmmm.” I feel peaceful, enlightened.

His lips drift across to the site of my fading mark, and he begins to suck gently, drawing the blood to the surface. “Ava, I’m not sure how I feel about our babies taking to your breasts.” He releases me and I slide back down, brushing across something very hard. His eyes widen, and he inhales sharply. “Oh no, we can’t.” He shifts me and sits up. “I won’t, Ava. And don’t you dare kick into temptress mode, either.”

I scowl at him. “Cornwall,” I threaten, and he recoils in horror, but soon matches my scowl, his probably fiercer.

“You’re not going anywhere!” he asserts on a growl as he stands, his beautiful, smooth iron rod of flesh just at the right level for my kneeling form. I seize it quickly before he can step out of the tub, wrapping my palm around him and clamping down. “Fuck, you little fucking temptress.”

“Are you going to walk away from me?” I pull a long, slow draw.

He shakes his head. “Ava, there’s not a fucking chance on this planet that I’m taking you.”

“Sit down.” I nod to the side of the tub and flick my tongue across the wet head of his huge cock.

He hisses and looks up to the ceiling. “Ava, if you leave me hanging to throw up, I’ll lose my fucking mind.” He thrusts forward gently.

“I won’t.” I don’t know that for sure, but there are other ways to do this. “Sit.” I push him down onto the side of the tub and kneel between his thighs, but I don’t get a chance to be creative.

He grabs my arms. “If I’m sitting on this side, then you’re sitting on the other.” He hits me with a hungry kiss and pulls away panting, his eyes completely smoked out. Anticipation is making my tummy clench. “With your legs wide open.”

I gasp a little, and immediately curse myself for it. He’s luring me in to that place where he takes all control. He’s goading me with those eyes, which are full of promise and pleasure, daring me to refuse. Slipping his hands under my arms, he lifts me to my feet before gently pushing me back. I find my place and rest my bum on the edge of the giant tub. It’s hard under my wet flesh, not that I’m particularly concerned. I can’t seem to focus on anything, other than this man sitting opposite me, all smoldering and hard. Then he runs his tongue across his bottom lip, and I find myself mimicking him.

“Lick your fingers, Ava,” he orders. He’s in dominant Jesse mode. I know there will be no hard fuck to wrap this up, but it’s that look, that stance, that commanding tone.

I take my fingers to my mouth and slide them between my lips, slowly and precisely, never removing my eyes from his. I couldn’t if I tried. The usual addictiveness is hard enough to pull away from, but when they are all hooded, his lashes fanned and hunger oozing from them…impossible.

“Slide your hand down your front,” he says roughly. “Slowly.”

I comply and lazily drag my palm down my body, brushing my nipples and skimming my stomach until I arrive at the juncture of my thighs.

“Stop.” He rips his eyes from mine and they wander down, taking their time, drinking in his asset before they reach my hand. “One finger, baby. Slowly slide one finger in.”

Doing as I’m instructed, I insert one finger on a deep inhale of breath.

“Remember, that’s mine.” He flicks his eyes to mine. “So be gentle with it.”

Those words, the way he says them, and the fact that he absolutely means them, pushes me to close my eyes and mentally gather my wits.

“Eyes, Ava.”

Using breathing exercises to try and calm myself down, I follow through on his order.

“Good girl.” He reaches down and takes a loose hold of himself. My heart rate multiplies. “Taste.”

I don’t feel shy. I never have, no matter what he does or asks me to do. My hand glides back up my body, and then I slowly, seductively, teasingly slide my finger into my mouth and shamelessly moan as I do.

“Good?” He’s drawing easy strokes of his arousal as he watches me. It’s sending me wild with want, but I know that I’m not moving from this side of the tub. I know who has the power.

I give him heavy, lustful eyes as I lick and suck around my finger, working myself up into a desperate wreck of trembling nerves.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He jerks a little and pauses with his lazy rhythm, seeming to gather his own wits. “Fucking hell, Ava.”

Knowing his self-control is slipping, I take advantage and drift back down to my entrance, scissoring my fingers and beginning a measured, meticulous caressing of myself. My back arches, my legs spread farther, and my head rolls on a groan. I’m rippling all over and releasing uncontrolled bursts of breath as my pleasure builds with my own rhythmic touch.

“Damn it, Ava. Look at me,” he hisses. My eyes and head drop at his command. He’s tipping the edge, too. His body has solidified and his fist is working firmer and faster. This only encourages me, my own fingers speeding up, my own body tensing. “You’re close, baby.”

“Yes!” I’m losing it.

“Oh Jesus, not yet. Control it.”

“I can’t!” I shout, the thought of him stopping this making me panic slightly. I’m brimming. It’s coming. “Oh God!”

“Ava, fuck, control it!” Now his fist is moving urgently, his head is rolling, but he’s keeping those greens right on me.

I attempt everything. I tense all over, my legs splashing the water as I jerk and fight the convulsions riding through me. “Jesse,” I cry desperately. The buzzing at my core is getting out of control.

“Ava, you look fucking amazing.” His unrestrained movements get the better of him and he moans, falling to his knees in the water and letting out a suppressed bark.

I move my hand immediately when his head falls between my thighs and his mouth takes over, while he continues to work himself in front of me. The warmth of his lips all over my sex pushes me that little bit further into ecstasy. I’m yanking at his hair, pushing him farther into me. I’m going to burst at the seams with pleasure.

And then I do.

My thighs clamp to the sides of his head as I let go on an elongated shudder of comforting bliss and a heavy rush of air. My lungs burst. I go lax. He rolls and laps gently, softly flicking his tongue, and then works his way up my body until he finds my mouth. He pulls me down to my knees and takes my hand, replacing his with mine around his steel shaft. He hasn’t come. “My turn,” he whispers. “Hold it against you.”

The wet tip of him meets my clit, pushing against me, taking the edge off the persistent buzz. I take over, holding him lightly and massaging him to climax. His hands are free now, and they are encasing my neck, holding my head firm as he works my mouth with the same care as I’m working him with my hand. This isn’t urgent and frenzied. This is controlled and relaxed. He can control it so much better than I can.

“Just keep it like that,” he mumbles into my mouth. “I could stay like this forever.”

“I love you.” I don’t know why I feel the need to say this now, but I do anyway.

His tongue sweeps gently through my mouth. He pulls back, he plays with my lips, and then he’s back in my mouth, flirting with my tongue. And the whole time, I just soak up his attention and keep up my seduction of his velvet hardness against me. It’s working me down perfectly and working him up just as well. “I know,” he murmurs, and with a small whimper and hardening of his kiss, he comes, the hot essence of him pouring all over me as he throbs in my hold and moans around our kiss.

After I’ve worked him slowly down, he sits on his heels, pulling me onto his lap. “Are you cold?”

“A little.” I shrug and seek warmth by pushing myself into him.

“My lady’s tired.” He kisses my nose. “Snuggle?”

I nod, and he lifts me from the bath. We dry each other off in silence and find our way to the bed, falling in together and immediately finding our snuggle places—him on his back, me spread all over his chest, my face in his neck and his hands running all over me.

“I’ll never love one more than the other,” he proclaims quietly.

I don’t answer him. Instead, I kiss his neck and snuggle deeper.

I
could lie here forever, just watching him sleep, the peaceful streams of air intermittently reaching my face, reinforcing the deep sense of belonging inside of me. The tender placing of his palm on my tummy is strengthening my love for this man. And the close perfection of his body is swelling my desire for his touch. There are a million things about this man that make me despair, but there are endless things that make me adore him. Some of those despairing things I even adore.

Unable to resist, I reach forward and run my thumb down his stubbled cheek and onto his parted lips, smiling as he twitches a little and then sighs and settles again, his hand on my belly unconsciously starting to circle. The flawlessness of his beautiful face will amaze me until the day I die—his lightly tanned skin, his almost girly long lashes, the faint crease across his brow. It would take me a lifetime to run through all his stunning features. My devastating man, in all of his challenging ways.

My wandering hand floats across his face; my fingertip traces the taut flesh of his throat and my palm skims his solid chest. I sigh, all dreamy and content as I spend this quiet time exploring his body and face.

“Have you finished feeling me up?” His rough voice drags me from my daydreaming, my hand pausing on his scar. His eyes remain closed.

“No, just be still and silent,” I order quietly, carrying on with my fondling.

“Anything you say, lady.”

I grin and lean forward, hovering my lips over his. “Good boy.”

His closed lids flicker and the corners of his mouth blatantly restrain a smirk. “What if I want to be a bad boy?” One of his eyes opens cheekily.

Nothing will prevent me from smiling at that face. “Morning.”

He moves too fast. I’m on my back and pinned under his body in a nanosecond, my arms held over my head. I don’t even have time to register his attack or let out a squeal of shock. “Someone has sleepy sex on their mind.”

“No, I have Jesse Ward on my mind, which means I also have various degrees of fuckings on my mind.”

His eyebrows rise slowly, thoughtfully. “You’re insatiable, my beautiful girl.” He kisses me hard. “Watch your mouth.”

I quickly return his kiss, but he halts me by pulling away. I scowl. He smiles. It’s that smug smile. I scowl harder, but I’m ignored. “I’ve been thinking.”

My scowl falls away immediately. Jesse thinking is almost as worrying as him trampling all over the place. “What about?”

“About how dramatic our married life has been.”

I can’t argue with that. “Okay…” I drag the word out slowly, meaning I’m not sure it’s okay at all.

“Let me take you away.” His green eyes are pleading with me, and now he’s pouting, too. Is he beginning to realize that this face has just as much impact as a sense fuck? “Just us two on our own.”

“We’ll never be alone ever again,” I remind him.

He lifts and glances down at my stomach, and I see him smile and shift down to kiss my tummy before returning those puppy dog eyes to mine. “Let me love you. Let me have you to myself for a few days.”

“What about my job?” My commitment recently has been really questionable.

“Ava, you were in a car accident yesterday.”

“I know,” I concede. “But I have appointments and Patrick is—”

“I’ll sort Patrick.” He cuts me straight off. “He’ll deal with your appointments.”

My eyes narrow. “Sort Patrick or trample Patrick?”

He pulls that hurt face. I’m not buying it. “I’ll speak to Patrick.”

“Delicately.”

He grins. “-ish.”

“No, Ward. No ‘–ish’ about it. Delicately. End of!”

“Is that a yes?” he asks hopefully. I could cuddle him, the adorable pain in the arse that he is.

“Yes,” I agree. He needs the break just as much as I do, probably more. Yesterday’s events will not help his worrying. “Where are we going?”

He springs into action, jumping up from the bed like an excited child on Christmas morning. “Anywhere. I don’t care.”

“I do! I’m not skiing!” I sit bolt upright in bed at the very thought of being kitted out in padded skiwear with some giant planks of wood attached to my feet.

“Don’t be stupid, woman.” He rolls his eyes and disappears into the wardrobe, appearing moments later with a suitcase. “You’re carrying my babies in there.” He points to my stomach. “You’re lucky I’m not chaining you to the bed for the rest of this pregnancy.”

“You can if you like.” I hold my wrists against the headboard. “I won’t complain.”

“You’re a temptress, Mrs. Ward. Come pack.” He goes back into the wardrobe, leaving me hanging on the bed. On a grumble loud enough for him to hear, I shuffle to the edge and follow him. He’s pulling down clothes haphazardly and chucking them into a pile by the case.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. I’ll make a few calls.” He continues happily packing his case, but then he looks up at me, where I’m leaning on the door frame, silently observing him. “Aren’t you going to pack?”

“Well, I don’t know where I’m going. Hot, cold? Car, plane?”

“Car,” he asserts firmly, turning to reach for more T-shirts. “You can’t fly.”

“What do you mean, I can’t fly?”

“I don’t know. Cabin pressure.” His naked shoulders shrug. “It might squish the babies.”

I laugh because if I don’t, I might bash him around the head instead. “Tell me you’re joking.”

He slowly turns to face me. He’s not impressed by my humor. It’s written all over that bloody perfect face. “I don’t joke when it comes to you, Ava. You should know that.”

“Cabin pressure won’t squish our babies, Jesse. If you’re taking me away, then you’re taking me on a plane.” I very nearly stamp my foot to assert my order.

He looks a little shocked by my demand, and he slips into thought, munching his lip, the cogs slowly starting to kick into action. “It’s not safe for pregnant women to fly,” he says quietly. “I’ve read about it.”

“Where have you read about it?” I ask on a laugh, fearing he’s about to produce some sort of
Guide to Pregnancy
manual. I stop laughing immediately when he reaches between his suits and produces a
Guide to Pregnancy
manual.

“In here.” He holds it up sheepishly. “You should also be taking folic acid.”

I gape at the book being dangled in front of me and watch with a mixture of astonishment and amusement as he starts flicking through the pages. There are pages folded over at the corners, and I think I even see a glimpse of a passage highlighted in neon pen. He knows what he’s looking for, and I can do nothing more than stand and stare as my beautiful, neurotic control freak finds it.

“Here, look.” He shoves the book under my nose and points to the center of the page, where a section has been highlighted in neon pink. “The Department of Health recommends that women should take a daily supplement of four hundred micrograms of folic acid while they are trying to conceive, and should continue taking this dose for the first twelve weeks of pregnancy when the baby’s spine is developing.” He frowns. “But we have two babies, so maybe you should take eight hundred micrograms.”

My heart swells to bursting point. “I love you,” I say on a smile.

“I know.” He flicks some more pages. “The flying bit is here somewhere. Just…”

I smack the book from his hands and we both follow its fall to the floor, where it bumps around before settling. He looks up at me with narrowed eyes, his lips pressing into a straight line. It just makes me smirk, which makes him scowl harder. I kick the book. He gasps.

“Pick the book up,” he snarls.

“Stupid book.” I kick it again. I’m still grinning.

“Pick the book up, Ava.”

“No,” I snap back petulantly. I know exactly what I’m doing here. My eyes are delighting at the fierceness seeping from his refined physique.

He raises those eyebrows. He’s thinking really hard about this. He knows my game. Then three fingers appear in front of my face. “Three.”

My grin widens as I bat his hand away. “Two,” I counter.

He’s trying his hardest to conceal his own grin. “One.”

“Zero, baby,” I finish for him and squeal in delight as I’m hoofed up over his shoulder, with conviction but care, and carted into the bedroom. I’m laughing hard as I’m dropped to the bed, with way too much precision, before he blankets me and brushes my hair from my face.

“Lady, when will you learn?” he asks, cupping the back of my head and raising it to meet his nose.

“Never.”

He smiles that smile, reserved only for me. “I hope you don’t. Kiss me.”

“What if I don’t?” I ask. I so will. And he knows it.

Reaching down, he rests the tip of his finger on the hollow void above my hipbone. I hold my breath. “We both know you’re going to kiss me, Ava.” His lips tickle mine. “Let’s not waste valuable time when I could be losing myself in you. Kiss me now.”

My tongue slides from my mouth, meeting with his bottom lip, and I perform my own little tease, lightly skimming until he submits and lets his own tongue make an appearance. We meet in the middle and circle sweetly until he moans and attacks my mouth with brute force.

“Hmmm.” I sigh, matching the purposeful lashes of his tongue. This is what we need. We need a few days with each other, loving each other and getting used to our imminent future together. A future that now has two babies in it. I need Jesse to myself for a while, with no distractions, except him, and with no issues, except us.

“It didn’t really say I can’t fly, did it?” I ask, stupidly or not. I know it couldn’t have, because I’ve seen pregnant women on planes before. This is just another one of Jesse’s stupid pregnancy rules.

My lip is bitten and sucked. “It’s logical.”

“No, it’s neurotic,” I argue. “Pregnant women fly all of the time, so you are taking me on a plane to somewhere hot and you’re going to let me feast on you the whole time. Constant contact. I want constant contact.” I know this will please him and when he lifts his head, sucking my lip as he does, the wonderful smile on his face confirms it.

“I can’t fucking wait.” He kisses my nose and gets up. “Come on, then. We’re wasting valuable feasting time.” He winks, turns, and leaves me wallowing among the white sheets. This really is Central Jesse Cloud Nine.

I pull my case down the stairs and it bumps as it goes.

“Hey!” The shout makes me jump and falter midstep, causing me to clutch the handrail to steady myself. A loud gasp rings through the air, followed by thundering footsteps up the stairs. I’m grabbed and held still. “What the fuck are you doing, woman?”

My fright turns to anger. “For fuck’s sake, Jesse. Fucking hell! That was your fucking fault!” I immediately realize my slipup, the growl coming from Jesse confirming that I have, most definitely, just swore like a sailor. Three times…all in one rant. I brace myself for it, closing one eye on a wince.

“Will you watch your fucking
mouth
!” He takes my case. “Wait there!” he barks, and I do, but mostly because I’ve been shocked into stillness and silence by that infuriated yell. He practically throws my case down when he reaches the bottom, muttering and cursing under his breath, before coming back up the stairs and picking me up. “You’ll break your fucking neck.”

“I was carrying a case! It was you who made me jump.” I don’t wriggle or try to break free.

“You shouldn’t be carrying anything, except my babies.”

“Our babies!”

“That’s what I fucking said!” He puts me on my feet. “No doing stupid shit, lady.”

I rearrange my top, huffing and puffing as I do. “How is carrying a case stupid?”

“Because you’re pregnant!”

Oh, I can’t bear this. “You’d better rein it in, Ward.” I point my finger right in his face. “Cornwall!”

He actually starts laughing, which only serves to notch my frustration up a few more levels. He should be worried, not laughing. “How many times are you going to threaten me with fucking Cornwall?” he asks cockily, like he knows I’ll never see my threat through. I might do, although, I don’t relish the thought of spending my whole pregnancy with my parents, but anything has got to be better than this.

“I’ll go now!” I shout in his face.

“Come on, then. I’ll take you.” He picks my case up and walks to the door, looking back over his shoulder at me standing startled on the spot. “Are you coming?”

He’s pulling my leg. “Have you called Patrick?” I ask, following behind. There’s no way on this earth Jesse will voluntarily take me to my mother’s.

“Yes,” he answers, short and sharp. “You need to be back in work by Tuesday.” He shuts the door behind me before calling the elevator.

We travel down in silence, me looking at him in the reflection of the mirrored doors while he makes a call to John. The doors open, and he nods to them as he continues his conversation, telling John to get Steve on it before advising him that he’s taking me to my parents’. I still don’t believe it. And get Steve on what?

 “Hi, Ava.” Casey’s cheerful tone quickly has a bright smile replacing my fixed furrowed brow.

“Mrs. Ward!” Jesse barks, between words with John as we pass the concierge desk.

I ignore him. “Morning, Casey. Are you okay?”

“Very well, thank you. It’s a lovely day.” He nods outside, and I look to find bright sunshine. “Have a nice day, Ava.”

“Thank you.” I’m all dreamy as I emerge into the muggy air, instantly noticing my wedding present has miraculously made its way back to Lusso, but my bright white Range Rover is forgotten when I see an Aston Martin.

“Yeah, thanks, big guy.” Jesse hangs up and walks straight to the boot of the strange car, slipping the case in.

“What’s this?” I ask, pointing to the DBS.

He shuts the boot and clasps his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “I think it might be a car.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, God. I mean, where has it come from?”

“It came from a garage to replace mine until it’s located.” He takes my elbow and directs me in.

“They’ve still not found your car?”

“No,” he answers quickly and finally, with no room for pushing on the matter, not that it stops me.