Текст книги "This Man Confessed"
Автор книги: Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 34 страниц)
‘I want to shout about it,’ he complains. ‘Tell everyone.’
You would never know this was the same man. From the arrogant, conceited arsehole the day I met him in this exact office, to this? ‘I know, but I’m only a few weeks. It’s bad luck. Women usually wait until their first scan, at least.’
‘When’s the first scan? I’ll pay. We’ll get one tomorrow.’
I laugh and pull away. ‘It’s far too early for a scan, and anyway, the hospital will do it.
He looks at me like I’ve just grown another head. ‘You are not having my baby in a NHS hospital!’
‘I…’
‘No, Ava. This is not up for discussion. End of.’ It’s that tone—the one I know, for absolutely sure, never to challenge. ‘Never, no way.’ He shakes his head. He’s horrified at the thought, clearly.
‘What do you think they’ll do?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m not giving them the chance.’ He takes my hand and starts leading me from his office.
‘You pay your taxes and so do I. It’s a privilege to have a National Health Service. You should be grateful.’
‘I am, it’s wonderful, but we won’t be utilising it. End of.’
‘Neurotic,’ I mutter, looking up at him on a grin.
My grin is returned, even though I can see he’s trying to remain serious. ‘-ish.’ he replies. ‘I like your dress.’ His eyes wander down the front of my nude structured pencil dress, as do mine.
‘Thank you.’
‘I want to show you something. Come on.’ He opens the door and places his hand on the small of my back to guide me.
‘What?’ I ask, letting my body be gently pushed from his office and down the corridor.
I shiver when I feel his mouth at my ear. ‘You’ll see.’
I’m curious, and I’m also feeling… a little breathless. Just from a few whispered words and his hand on my body, I’m mentally begging for him. Pregnancy might be responsible, or it could just be him. No, it’s the latter, for sure, but combined I could be in a whole heap of sexual trouble.
We pass the members of The Manor in the summer room, Jesse nodding, me smiling sweetly, and make our way up the stairs until we’re walking down the corridor to the extension.
He opens the door to the very last room, the one I fled from, the one I sat on my arse sketching drafts in, and the one in which I received my warning from Sarah. I don’t particularly like this room, but as I’m pushed through and the whole area comes into view, I gasp.
It’s no longer an empty shell of raw plaster and a rough wooden floor. It’s now a palatial space, garnished in sumptuous materials, all in black and gold. I gingerly wander in, gazing around, drinking in the stunning space. The huge bed that I sketched has come to life and is dominating the room, dressed in pale gold satin with huge, black lace calla lilies embroidered across the material. The windows are adorned with heavy gold drapes of the same material, and the floor is soft and squidgy under my heels. I look down and find I’m standing on a gigantic plush rug, so thick that I can’t see the tops of my feet. I trail my eyes across the walls, finding the paper I picked on one wall and the three remaining walls painted in a dull gold to match the bedding and curtains. It’s almost an exact replica of my rough drawing.
I turn to face Jesse. ‘You did this?’
He shuts the door quietly. ‘I gave someone your drawing and told them to create it. Is it close?’
‘It is. When?’ I ask.
‘It doesn’t matter when. What matters is if you like it.’ He’s trying to gage my reaction, looking a little cautious and maybe even a little nervous, too.
‘It’s perfect.’
He was nervous because he has just visibly relaxed. ‘It’s ours.’
My eyes widen a little. ‘Ours?’ What does he mean by that? Does he want us to live here? I’m not living here.
He must catch the worry on my face because he smiles mildly. ‘No one has ever been in this room and no one ever will be. This is our room. If I’m working and you’re with me, maybe you’ll want a sleep or some rest.’
‘You mean when I have swollen ankles or exhaustion from carrying too much weight?’ I’m suddenly contemplating the awful thought that we’re having a baby, we are starting a family, and The Manor will be a huge feature and presence in our lives. My baby’s daddy owns a sex club. Once I have this baby, I’ll never want to bring it here, and with Jesse working I’ll hardly see him. He’ll hardly see us. The terrifying, unsure feelings are still lying dormant, and with this sudden realisation, they are threatening to rear their ugly head and send me back a few paces. He’ll never sell this place. He’s already confirmed that. It was Carmichael’s baby.
‘I mean, if we need it, it will be here.’ he says quietly.
I don’t want to need it. If we were never here, then we wouldn’t need it. I don’t say that, though. He’s gone to all of this trouble for me, so instead, I break my eyes away from Jesse’s thoughtful greens and cast them around the pale gold walls. There’s no wall art, no pictures or decorative pieces.
Except the cross.
My eyes remained fixed on the giant, dark wooden crucifix, and I notice at each end of the horizontal piece of wood spanning two thirds of the way up, there are manacles—shiny, gold, intricately carved pieces of mental bolted to the far edges to hold something in place.
To hold a person in place.
I slowly turn my eyes back to Jesse’s and find his are still on me, watching carefully, assessing my reaction to the piece of art. ‘Why is that in here?’ I ask quietly.
‘Because I had it put in here.’ He’s just as quiet, and his hands are draped loosely in his pockets, his legs slightly spread.
‘Why?’
‘I think it might… help.’ His eyes are smoking out, his lip being chewed.
Help? With what? Jesse is just standing there with rapt intention written all over that heart-stopping face, and it’s playing havoc with my vital signs. ‘What do we need help with?’ My voice is a husky murmur, full of want and longing.
All of those vital signs escalate further when he slowly starts walking towards me. ‘You want it hard.’ he says quietly, ‘and I’m not very comfortable with that when you’re carrying my baby.’ He removes his Grensons and socks, then slides his jacket off his shoulders and drapes it on the bed. ‘So I thought carefully and came up with the compromise fuck.’
My exhale falters in my throat and for some reason unbeknown to me, I step back. I don’t know why, I trust him, but I’m a little shocked by his obvious intention. ‘I don’t understand.’
He reaches up and pulls at his tie before slowly unfastening his shirt buttons. ‘You will.’ He leaves his shirt draping open, teasing my eyes with only a sliver of his flesh, and walks across the room, opening a cupboard door and fiddling with something. Then the whole room is swamped with a slow building hum of spiritual, tingle provoking music.
I go rigid. ‘What is this?’ I ask as he walks slowly back towards me, reaching my body and breathing down on me.
‘This is Amber, Sexual.’ he says gently. ‘Afterlife. Appropriate, don’t you think?’
I couldn’t agree more, but my mouth refuses to speak and tell him so.
‘It doesn’t always have to be hard, Ava. I hold the power, no matter how I take you.’ He pushes me back gently until I’m positioned in front of the cross. ‘It’s not the hard you love, anyway. It’s me taking you so unapologetically.’ His voice is low and sure. It should be. He’s totally right. It’s the power he has over me, not just the power of his body.
‘You’ll never fuck any sense into me again?’ I ask, just as low, but not so sure.
His lips break into a concealed smile. ‘Will you defy me again?’
‘Probably,’ I breathe.
‘Then I’ve absolutely no doubt that I will, my temptress.’ He rests his finger under my chin and brings my face up to his. ‘If I want to fuck you hard and make you scream, then I will. If I want to make love to you, Ava, and make you purr, then I will.’ He places his lips gently over mine, and my eyes close, my breathing hitching quietly. ‘If I want to bind you on this cross, then I will.’ He reaches around my back and lazily draws the zipper of my dress down before pulling it away and lowering himself with it so I can step out. Working his way back up my body, he takes my hand and kisses my wedding ring. ‘And you are mine, so I’ll do what I like with you.’
My eyes are still closed, my head dropped low. My breathing is weak and shallow, too, and my ears are saturated by the sensual tones of the calm music. My flesh screams for his touch. However he wants to do it. However he wants to take me.
I feel my bra being removed, and the slow lift of my hand to meet the gold manacle. It clips into place and he kisses me again before slowly guiding my free hand to the other gold shackle.
I’m bound, spread on the cross and at his mercy. But I’m one hundred per cent safe, and I’m one hundred per cent comfortable.
‘Look at me, baby.’ he whispers, stroking my cheek.
My heavy lids lift and I’m crippled by dark green pools of pure love. ‘Tell me you’ve never done this before.’ It’s the only distracting thought running through my mind. The time I spent in the communal room never suggested this level of intensity or intimacy between two people. But my time was brief and even though what I witnessed was intense, it certainly never carried an element of love. We have that love.
Sliding his hand around the nape of my neck, he pulls me forward slightly so our faces are as close as can be without touching. ‘Never.’ His mouth meets mine tenderly, and I close my eyes, opening to his soft lips willingly, but not frenzied. I feel calm and serene as he leisurely works his tongue through my mouth, rolling, lapping and withdrawing before evenly plunging back inside to continue lazily seducing me. My lack of ability to hold him is not bothering me at all. He’s holding my neck firmly, kissing me like I’m glass, and I have no physical hold of him. His mouth is giving me everything I need. I have no desire to demand harsher contact. This is just perfect.
Trailing his mouth to my ear, he runs his tongue up the edge of my lobe, my cheek pushing into his jaw, his light stubble comforting and so familiar. I’m riddled with tingles, every scrap of my form buzzing to the erotic routine of his lips. And then they leave my ear and he pulls away. ‘Eyes, baby.’
I rip my eyes open with some determined effort and watch as he shrugs off his shirt, the revealing of slightly tanned, toned, smooth flesh attacking my eyes. My gaze drifts all over the hard vastness of his chest, over his pecs, over his abdomen, over his scar. The sight makes me shift in my heels and wish that I wasn’t bound at all. But I’m quickly distracted from my need to lay my hands on him when his belt is unfastened, along with his button and zipper, and he’s pushing his trousers down his robust thighs.
He’s standing before me, uncovered and unforgivingly phenomenal. I’m not serene any longer. I’m fighting the instinct to wrestle with my restraints and shout a demand for contact. He must catch my pending loss of control because he’s pressed up to my body in a split second and looking down into my desperate eyes.
‘Let the music sink back in, Ava. Control it.’
I try, but with his naked muscles spread all over my restrained frame, it’s just way too hard. ‘I can’t.’ I admit unashamedly. I’m not ashamed. I’m consumed. I close my eyes again, willing some strength from my weakness to obey him. My hands are suddenly warm, and I realise that his palms are encasing the fists I have formed. I flex them silently, showing my cooperation, and he releases me before lightly dragging his fingers up the insides of my arms, a flurry of goose bumps tracking their path until he’s on my chest and cupping both of my breasts. My eyes are still closed, but I know his mouth is moving in. I can feel his breath spreading further over my skin the closer he’s getting. And then there is the unmistakable heat of his mouth completely closed around my right breast. His tactic is exact. He sucks deeply, rolls his tongue slowly and pulls back to kiss my nipple sweetly before repeating, sucking, rolling and kissing. My head falls back, and I moan, a low, raspy noise of surrender. I soak up the attentive motions, as I quietly sigh and let my head go completely limp. A buzzing has developed between my thighs and is beating a steady, consistent thrum.
I feel his teeth clamp painfully onto my nipple and my head flies up on a small cry. He doesn’t release me, even though it’s obviously painful. He just gazes up through his long lashes at me struggling to deal with the pressure. I’m not relenting. I’m not telling him to stop, so I block it out and meet his stare with my own determined one, and when he smiles a little around my breast, I know I was right to ride it out. My nipple is released and the blood rushes back in as he sucks it back to life, and I release a quiet gasp.
‘My beautiful girl is learning to control it.’ he muses, drawing my knickers down my thighs and tapping each ankle to lift. Pecking his way between my breasts, up my throat and back to my lips, he cups me delicately and then slowly pushes two fingers inside of me. I’m panting immediately. ‘Shhhh.’ he whispers. ‘Soak it up, Ava. Feel every single bit of pleasure that I bless you with.’ His fingers pull free and firmly drive forward again, deep and high. He might be measured and soft, but my muscles are gripping him harshly. And then they’re gone, but before I can voice a frustrated complaint, I feel the soaking wet head of his cock meet the very tip of my clit. I don’t miss the slight, sharp intake of breath from him, but I’m too drunk on his heated touch to tell him to control it. He guides himself around, rolling the steel, slippery head across me, getting his face up close to mine and breathing heavily all over my lips. Our eyes lock, complete adoration clashing between them, and he slowly lowers his lips to mine and kisses me. It’s a kiss of passion and it’s full of heat and devotion.
This time, we both groan, we both lose our breath and we both shift on the spot to steady ourselves.
‘Are your arms okay?’ he murmurs into my mouth.
‘Yes,’
‘Are you ready for me to take you, Ava? Tell me you’re ready.’
‘I’m ready.’ I’m floating away.
He stoops and hovers at my entrance, then drops my lips. ‘Open your eyes for me, baby.’
I instantly comply, the magnetism of his own pulling me straight to where they should be. I watch him as he unhurriedly breaches my opening and slides into me. ‘Oh God,’ I breath, maintaining our eye contact, refusing to break this incredible intimacy.
‘Jesus,’ His cheeks puff slightly, he shakes his head very mildly and a shimmer of sweat materialises across his brow as he reaches down and takes the back of my thighs and lifts them to his narrow hips before drawing back and pushing forward on a low, throaty moan, dipping his head and latching onto my throat. My head naturally falls to the side, my eyes closing, as he lazily licks up the column, finishing with a tender kiss under my ear. ‘I set the pace.’ he murmurs, ‘and you follow.’
His words make me swallow hard and turn into his mouth, capturing his lips and worshipping him while he truly blesses me with the consistent, calm and controlled advances of his hips.
In and out. In and out. In and out.
When we’re like this, nothing and no one else exists. We’re surrounded by this calming music, we are both calm, but we are both sticky, gliding against each other’s bodies and completely out of our mind on pleasure. Out he pulls, and in he goes again. He’s filling me wholly and not just with each and every perfect stroke. My heart is full, too. It’s full of fierce, powerful, undying love.
He pushes forward, but this time I hear a clear, harsh pull of breath. ‘You’re going to come.’ My words come out on a quiet rush of breath.
‘Not yet.’ I watch as his eyes clench shut and his frown line trails the entire width of his brow, and he still maintains his steady pace. He is remarkably controlled, but I’m moving fast to where I need to be. Just looking at that face has sent the spiralling rush of pressure descending downwards and now I’m worried that I’ll break before Jesse.
I pant and rest my lips on his again. It’s me who teases this time, and he eagerly accepts, his tongue darting into my mouth and mimicking my big sweeping circles. His fingers dig into the backs of my thighs and lift me a little higher so he can get more leverage. He hits me firmly and yells into my mouth as I free his lips and take refuge in the crook of his neck on a supressed cry as I’m attacked by feverish spasms. He’s grinding firmly, retreating slowly, and flowing back in, so controlled.
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he mumbles quietly, drawing back and striking precisely and expertly one last mind splitting time.
‘Jesse!’ I latch onto his shoulder and bite down hard, while I ride out the violent pulsations firing off all over my body. He bucks, yells and squeezes my thighs as he comes, the feeling of his scorching essence filling me, warming me, completing me. I’m light headed and limp, but oddly feel stronger than ever before.
His face is buried in my neck, mine in his, and despite the calmness of that whole lovemaking session, the ending wasn’t a calm roll over into orgasm, and it wasn’t a frenzied rush to explosion. We just found our middle ground—a mixture of pure, gentle Jesse, and the dominant sex Lord I love.
‘That was perfect.’ I whisper in his ear. I really need to hold him, but I don’t need to ask. He’s already grasping me with one arm and reaching across with the other to undo me. He then swaps arms and releases my other hand. In spite of the slight ache and lack of life in my limbs, they still find their way around Jesse’s strong shoulders. I smother him completely, my thighs tightening and my cheek resting on his shoulders as he carries me over to the bed and takes us down, me beneath him. The cool satin is a welcome sensation across my hot, clammy back, and it doesn’t escape my notice that he isn’t spreading his full weight all over me, instead opting to hold himself up slightly across my tummy.
‘Do you like our room?’ he asks into my hair.
I smile up at the ceiling. ‘Are we going to have a cradle put in here? You know, for when we bring our baby to The Manor.’ My question is enough to plant the seed, and judging by the stilling of his heaving body, my seed has settled well.
He slowly pulls himself up and shifts to my side, resting the side of his head in his palm on his propped elbow. His fingertip starts circling around my bellybutton while he studies me. ‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.’
I put on my most innocent face. I know it won’t make a jot of difference. He’s cottoned right on to my little dig. ‘Just a question.’
His eyebrows slowly rise and serious eyes skate down my body to watch the slow rotations of his finger. ‘You have a bump.’
I shrink further into the mattress on an offended snort. ‘Don’t be stupid! I’m barely pregnant.’
‘I’m not being stupid.’ His hand flattens and strokes softly. ‘It’s faint, but it’s there.’ He leans down and kisses my belly before propping his head on his bent arm again. ‘I know this body, and I know it’s changing.’
I frown and look down and my stomach, but it looks perfectly flat to me. He’s seeing things now. ‘Whatever you say, Jesse.’ I’m not arguing after that perfect moment, even if I do want to slap him for insinuating that I’ve put on weight.
He leans down again and gets his mouth up close to my abdomen. ‘See, peanut? Your mother’s learning who has the power.’
‘No peanut!’ I throw my head up and lob him a mighty scowl. He’s grinning at me. ‘Think of another name. You’re not referring to our child as something disgusting that you obsess about and devour daily.’
‘I obsess about you. I also devour you daily. But I can’t call our baby a defiant little temptress.’
‘No, that would be wrong. But you could call it baby.’ It’s me who’s grinning now.
He jumps up and straddles my hips, pinning my wrists down, but still not resting himself on my stomach. ‘Let me call our baby peanut.’
‘Never.’
‘Sense fuck?’
‘Yes please.’ I reply way too hopefully, my grin widening.
He laughs and kisses me chastely. ‘Pregnancy’s making you a monster. Come on. My wife and peanut must be hungry.’
‘Your wife and baby are very hungry.’
His greens twinkle and he pulls me up from the bed, dressing me first before he pulls his own boxers, trousers and shirt on. I step into his chest and remove his hands from his collar, taking over the fastening of his buttons while he watches me quietly. Reaching around his back to tuck his shirt into his trousers, my cheek rests on his chest as I take my time making him look presentable. ‘Belt?’ I ask, as I pull away from him. He stoops down and retrieves it from the floor, handing it to me on an amused smile. I take it, returning his smile, and start feeding it through the loops of his trousers and buckling it up. ‘You’re done.’
‘No I’m not.’ He nods at his shoes. ‘If you’re going to do a job, do it properly.’
I ignore his insolence, instead pushing him down so he’s sitting on the end of the bed. I kneel in front of him, resting my bum on my heels and start putting his socks on for him. ‘Is this okay for you, Lord?’ I yank at a few of the dark blonde hairs at the bottom of his shins.
He jerks. ‘Fuck!’ he reaches down and rubs his shin. ‘There was no need for that.’
‘Don’t be cheeky.’ I retort dryly, placing his shoes at his feet before pushing myself up.
He slips his feet in and stands, grabbing his jacket and stuffing his tie in the pocket, all the time frowning at me. ‘You really are a monster.’
I smile sweetly, prompting his frown to iron out and his lips to twitch. ‘Ready?’ I ask.
He shakes his head and takes my hand, leading me from our room and down to the bar. I’m placed on my usual stool, and Mario is with is in a heartbeat.
‘Mrs Ward!’ His cheerful accented voice draws the usual response from me.
I smile. ‘Mario, it’s Ava.’ I scorn him lightly. ‘How are you?’
‘Ah!’ He flips a bar towel over his shoulder and leans forward. ‘I’m very well. What would you like?’
‘Two waters,’ Jesse interjects swiftly. ‘Just two waters please, Mario.’
I flip critical eyes straight to my husband, who has sat himself on the stool next to me. ‘I might like some wine with my dinner.’
He’s not at all perturbed by my reproachful glare. In fact, he doesn’t even look at me. ‘You might, but you’re not having any. Two waters, Mario.’ This time he’s not asking his head barman, he’s ordering, and judging by Mario’s wary eyes that are flicking between us, he’s not going to offer me a choice again. He scoots straight off to the row of fridges lining the back of the bar, while I glare at Jesse, but he still refuses to face me, instead signalling Pete over. ‘Two steaks, Pete. One medium, one well done. No blood, whatsoever.’
The confusion in Pete’s face is obvious, and the disbelieving look on mine must be clear, too. ‘Urhh… yes, Mr Ward. Salad and new potatoes?’ Pete asks. His puzzled eyes have drifted across to my dumbstruck face, I can feel them on me, but I’m too busy staring at my impossible husband to acknowledge him.
‘Yes, just make sure one steak is thoroughly cooked.’ Jesse accepts the bottled water from Mario and starts pouring mine into a glass. ‘Is there egg in that salad dressing?’
I actually choke on a cough, not that it makes a bit of difference. He’s just looking at Pete with an expectant raised brow. Poor Pete has no idea what’s going on. ‘I’m not sure. Should I check?’
‘Yes, if there is, leave the salad with the well-cooked steak un-dressed.’
‘Okay, Mr Ward.’
Mario backs away, as does Pete, and we’re alone at the bar, me in a stunned silence and Jesse busying himself with water pouring duties to avoid facing his astonished wife. He knows that I’m gawking at him, he damn well knows it.
I turn myself back to the bar, all calm and unruffled, but I’m quietly raging. He just can’t help himself. ‘If you don’t go to that kitchen, change my order and get me a glass of wine, then I’m one step closer to moving in with my parents for the rest of this pregnancy.’ I know he’s looking at me now. I can feel his shocked greens burning a hole in my profile. I take my glass of water and slowly turn my face to his. ‘You are not trampling my diet, Ward.’
‘You’ve already got yourself pissed while you were pregnant.’ he spits quietly. He’s not happy, but neither am I.
‘I was mad with you.’ I still sound calm, but now I feel guilty, too.
His eyebrows shoot up. ‘So you thought you would take it out on my baby?’
I soak up the resentment pouring from him. ‘You keep saying my baby. It’s ours.’
‘That’s what I meant!’
‘You’re not worried about me, then? It’s not my safety anymore?’ I watch him carefully, weighing up his reaction to my words.
I’ve shocked him because he’s not coming back with a counter attack. He’s just severely chomping on that bottom lip, his mind’s cogs racing at a million miles per hour. He finally sags, swinging away from me on his stool, his hands diving straight into his messy array of dark blonde. ‘Fucking hell,’ he curses quietly. ‘Fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck!’
‘I mean it, Jesse.’ I reinforce my threat. I need him to know that I’m not setting myself up for this. I was wrong to go out and get myself pissed up, aware that I’m pregnant, but it was only a result of what this man does to me—what this man spikes in me. I won’t be getting pissed again, but a small glass of red wine won’t hurt and a half cooked steak is harmless. Don’t even get me started on the eggs.
I see his eyes clench shut and he takes a deep breath before turning towards my calm face. He takes my water and places it on the bar, and then holds my hands in his. ‘I’m sorry.’
I very nearly fall off my stool. ‘You are?’ There is no escaping the shock in my voice. Even if I was threatening him with confidence, I had absolutely no faith that he would take any notice of me.
‘I am. I’m sorry. This is going to take some getting used to.’
I laugh. ‘Jesse, this is hard enough to cope with, without dealing with an enhanced control freak. It’s not something I planned or even considered. I don’t need you on my case, analysing every move I make, monitoring everything that passes my lips. Please don’t make this tougher than it already is.’ I started on a laugh, but that little speech just ended completely seriously. I mean every word, and he knows it. His sorry eyes confirm it. I know he can’t help it, but he must. I need to work heavily on some reassurance, and then perhaps he might ease up. It’s an ambitious thought when he’s hardly learnt to control his challenging ways when it comes to only me.
I let out an almighty sigh and stand up, positioning myself between his legs. ‘I want my baby to have a daddy. Please, try to reduce the risk of a stress induced heart attack by chilling out a little.’ I kiss every part of his face that I can lay my lips on, and he lets me.
‘Hmmm. I’ll work on it, baby. I’m really trying, but can we at least compromise?’
‘Compromise how?’
I feel his hand slide onto my head and grasp my hair, pulling my busy lips away from him. He pouts. ‘Please don’t drink.’ His eyes are pleading with me, and I realise all too quickly how important it is to him. He’s a recovering alcoholic, even if he won’t admit it. For me to chuck alcohol down my throat in normal circumstances would be thoughtless. While I’m carrying his baby would be way past that. It would be cruel.
‘I won’t.’ I agree, and the relieved look that washes over his face makes me feel awful. Really really awful. ‘Go and get me a medium cooked steak.’ I peck his lips and pull out of his hold, placing myself back on my stool. ‘And I’d like that dressing on my salad.’ I nod past him.
He gives my cheek a quick stroke and leaves me at the bar to go and fulfil his obligation of getting his pregnant wife a medium cooked steak.
As my eyes wander around the bar, I immediately notice that it’s busy, something I was oblivious to when Jesse brought me in here and while we were busy sniping at each other, and subsequently making friends. Did they hear anything? Oh God, have we just revealed to a bar full of members that I’m expecting? My eyes flick across various groups, all drinking and chatting, but the curious interest that always surrounds me when I’m here is ever present. I spot Natasha in the corner with voice one and voice three, and I’m mortified when her eyes drop to my stomach. My face heats, and I swing back towards the bar, hastily escaping her inquisitive, intent look. It’s so easy to forget there’s a world happening around us when we’re so wrapped up in each other, whether we’re arguing, making friends or just plain getting our fix of each other.
‘Evening, Ava.’ Drew’s reserved tone pulls my attention in his direction, and I’m more than thrown to find him in jeans. He has a formal shirt tucked in and his black hair is perfectly placed, as usual, but jeans?
‘Hi,’ I can’t help my eyes making repeat up and down motions over his body, and when he shifts uncomfortably, I realise that he’s caught me making my examinations. I quickly snap myself out of my rude observations. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good. And you?’ He nods at Mario, who promptly collects a beer from a fridge and delivers it to Drew.
‘Great,’
‘Oh, congratulations,’ he raises his bottle and takes a swing.
I gape at him. He knows, too?
‘Never thought I’d see the day.’ He shakes his head.
‘Yes!’ Mario sings. ‘A baby!’
My exhale of exasperation is loud, just as I intended it to be. I hope it reached the ears of my darling husband in the kitchen, where he’s ensuring my steak is pink in the middle. ‘Thank you,’ is all I can think to say. That is until Jesse walks back into the bar, and I start mentally preparing my words as he walks towards me.
He gets in first, though. ‘Just remember, none of our business.’
‘What?’ I frown at him as he gives me a warning look, which would be fine, if I knew why I was receiving a warning. ‘What are you talking about?’
He rolls his eyes and grabs his water from the bar, and then I see them.
Sam and Kate.
