Текст книги "This Man Confessed"

Автор книги: Jodi Ellen Malpas

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 34 страниц)

I’m lying under him, soaking up his attentiveness, biting harshly on my lip, and I’m sizzling, bubbling, dying to let go. Through my wild sensuality, I’m searching for any sign that he may be close himself, and I begin to despair when I find nothing, but then his greens disappear behind his eyelids, only very briefly, and his hips jerk. He’s struggling. Fearful that he might slow to gather himself, I quickly wrap my legs around his waist and use every leg muscle I own to push him into me. It’s his downfall. He hisses, bucks again, and I shout my appreciation, moving my hands to his forearms and gripping hard.

‘You little… FUCK!’ His head flies back and his smooth pace rapidly advances into firmer strokes. I take the opportunity of his gaze away from mine to squeeze my eyes shut. I hold my breath, too. ‘Eyes!’ My darkness was brief. My lids are open again, and they are looking at a damp, hard face of frustration. Frustration that he can’t control it. ‘Fucking hell, lady.’ he pants. ‘You want to come?’

‘Yes!’

‘I know.’ He pistons into me, yells explicitly, time and time again, and then he barks ‘Come.’ And I’m besieged, my whole body going into meltdown as it’s attacked with violent shakes and is palpitating from the consistent bursts of release that just keep coming and coming and coming. I’m heated completely, his cum flooding me as he stills, moaning and grinding.

His breathing is sharp. My breathing is challenged. He’s still braced on his arms and he’s sweating profusely, while I’m rolling my head from side to side, almost disorientated from the intensity of my climax.

‘You made me lose control, Ava.’ he huffs down at me. ‘Damn it, woman you fucking send me crazy.’

My arms fall above my head into the wet sand, immediately noting another receding puddle of water, not that my body feels it. I’m scorching hot. ‘You won’t hurt them.’ I insist on a gasp.

He shakes his head, like he’s also all disorientated, before he slides from within me and falls to his forearms, taking my nipple between his lips. I barely register the heat of his mouth locked round me.

‘That feels nice.’ I sigh, finally closing my eyes for a reasonable length of time while he feasts on my breasts. ‘Just keep doing that.’

‘You taste so good,’ he mumbles, latching onto the area where I know my mark to be and sucking deeply.

I happily leave him to his own devices while I concentrate on stabilising my breathing and racing heartbeat, but I’m still burning up. ‘Take me into the water.’ I pant. ‘I need to cool off.’

He shakes his head and releases my breast to look up at me. ‘No can do, lady.’ He goes back to my chest with no more of an explanation.

‘Why?’ I press.

Each of my nipples are kissed before he brings his face up close to mine. His eyes are sparkling pools of mischievousness. ‘It might freeze the babies.’

I don’t laugh, but I do grin. ‘It will not!’

My hair is pushed from my face and his hands creep up my arms until his fingers lace through mine above my head. ‘How do you know for sure?’

I lift my head, just to get my lips on him, the crazy, lovable arse. ‘Even if that were true, which it isn’t, right now my current body temperature is off the charts, so I’m probably roasting your babies as we speak.’

He gasps in an obviously dramatic display of horror and jumps up, pulling me to my feet. ‘Fucking hell, lady. We need to cool you off.’ He throws me up onto his shoulder and slaps my arse.

‘Ouch!’ I laugh, delighting in his playfulness. ‘Go slow so I can get used to it.’

‘Oh no.’ He wades in quickly, leaving me fearing the worst. ‘We don’t have time to fuck about. We’re at risk of having a pair of well-done babies.’ He grabs my hips, instigating a yelp and a wriggle, but he has a firm grip of me. I’m held above him with my hips resting on his big palms, my hands on his shoulders, and I’m looking down at a crafty face that’s trying to be serious. I’m grinning so much, my cheeks are aching. ‘Hello up there, beautiful girl.’

‘Hi,’ I’m bracing myself. I know what’s coming, or I hope I know what’s coming.

He loses his battle and blisters my skin with his smile, bending his arms and lowering me to plant a hard kiss on my lips. ‘Goodbye my beautiful girl.’ His powerful arms straighten fast, and I’m launched into the black air on a squeal, my legs and arms flailing everywhere in deranged delight. I hit the water, still screaming, but quickly get stifled by the water as I go under. The dull muffle of frantic activity in the water surrounding me is definitely not just my doing, so I kick my legs urgently and work my way to the surface, emerging on a gasp and quickly doing a three sixty turn to look for him. He’s nowhere to be seen and apart from my fitful inhalations, it’s deathly silent. I freeze as best I can, limiting my legs to a calm paddling beneath me. Damn it, where is he? Silent swells of water ripple away from me, and I can’t work out if it’s me causing the stir in the water, or something in the depths below—something tall, lean and beautiful, something that can hold its breath for a bloody long time. I don’t know why, but I hold my breath, too, silently deliberating on my next move. Do I remain still and silent, or do I make a dash for the shore?

Dash, remain, dash, remain.

I release the stored air from my lungs. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ I’m totally torn, my heart racing as I battle my indecisiveness, but then I hear a splash behind me and with no instruction at all, my legs kick into action. I swim like my life depends on it, like Jaws himself is in pursuit of me. I’m squealing like a girl, too. ‘Oh fuck!’ I yelp, piercing the night time air with my filthy mouth, as my ankle is grasped and I’m pulled under. I’m a rolling mass of wild arms and legs, probably kicking and punching him, but I can’t control it. It serves him right, anyway. My fright has turned into a little anger now, and I’m batting at the hands that are grasping at me. My eyes keep getting attacked with salt every time I attempt to open them, and my lungs are going to explode. And now his head in between my thighs.

I break the surface and immediately release the air in my lungs on a furious shout. ‘Jesse!’ I’m on his shoulders being carted out of the sea, his arms locked over my shins on his chest.

‘What’s up, baby?’ He’s not even panting.

‘You!’ My hands smack his head a few times before I swoop down and grab his chin, yanking his head up. ‘Let me see you.’ I spit aggressively.

He laughs. ‘Hello.’

‘You’re a menace.’

He seems to find his feet with no effort, rising from the water like some kind of otherworldly creature. ‘You love me.’ he tells me confidently.

I lean down, but I can’t reach him. ‘I want to kiss you.’ I whine.

‘I know you do.’ In a stealthy set of coordinated moves, I’m whipped from his shoulders and laying across his arms in a nanosecond. ‘And now you can.’

This grin feels like a permanent fixture on my face, and his sparkling eyes are deeply set and showing no sign of fading. We’re so happy. Laidback Jesse is full-on and drowning me in lust and roguishness. Central Jesse Cloud Nine doesn’t get any better than this.

Chapter 25

I could get so very used to this. I could lay every morning and stretch happily, feel the breeze all over my nakedness and wander out onto the veranda to admire my God from a distance, running the curve of the bay. I could prepare him breakfast, despite the fact that I absolutely hate cooking, and I could sit naked at the table while he demolishes it with constant hums of approval around his fork before plunging his finger into a jar of peanut butter, which I’m sure he packed because it’s Sun-Pat. I could open my mouth when instructed so he can feed me, and I could reach over and just stroke his bare, sun kissed chest because I feel like it. I could puddle on the chair when he winks and yanks me over onto his lap to ravish me, and then continue with his breakfast with one hand while he holds me with the other, offering forkfuls of salmon to me. I could slip into my bikini within the privacy of Paradise, receiving no look of horror or demand to put something more substantial on, and go for a swim in the giant freshness of the villa’s pool. I could be pulled out by my hand and dried off, then wrapped up and taken to the shower, where I’m soaped down and served in every shower time way possible. Every shower time way possible… and a little more. I could get very, very used to this.

It’s our last day in Paradise, and I’m feeling a little forlorn. It’s our last day of indulging solely in each other, with none of the distractions or issues that are all currently waiting for us in London. I’m sitting on the bed with tissue wedged between my toes and a bottle of bright pink nail polish in my hand. It’s gone noon. We’ve spent all morning doing all of our normal, and I’m now prepping and preening for an afternoon down at the port and a twilight dinner. I don’t want to go home. I want to stay in Paradise forever, just me and Jesse.

‘I thought we agreed no more nail painting and hunting down scarce whiskey?’

I look up, seeing Jesse performing the mundane task of rubbing his dirty blonde mass of wet hair with a towel, but it’s not so mundane when Jesse is doing it. Nothing this man does is dull or ordinary. I lean back on my pillow and savour the delightful view. He’s naked. I’m dribbling. ‘I need to paint my toenails.’ I shake the bottle and unscrew the lid. ‘It won’t take long, and I don’t need to do my hands.’ I wave my already dried pink fingernails at him.

He saunters over and crawls up the bed until he’s sitting on his knees by my feet. ‘Let me.’ The towel gets laid across his thighs and he takes my foot

in his strong hands.

‘You want to paint my toes?’ I ask, a little amused at my manly husband taking on such a girly task. He flicks me an indifferent look, clearly not bothered to be tending to his wife to this extent.

The nail polish is taken from my hand and my foot positioned on the towel so that he may carry out his self-appointed duty. ‘I may as well get some practice in.’ he informs me, straight-faced and all matter-of-fact. ‘You won’t be able to reach them soon.’

My foot lashes out on reflex, jabbing him straight in his stomach, not that it has the desired effect. He grins down at his lap and re-positions my foot. ‘I don’t want to go home.’ I say quietly.

‘Me either, baby.’ He doesn’t seem shocked to hear it, like he has read my mind, or clearly has been thinking the exact same thing. He gives my big toenail a stroke down the centre with the brush, then one on each side.

‘When can we come back?’ I ask, watching as his concentration frown emerges. It makes me smile, momentarily forgetting my dispiriting thoughts.

‘We can come back whenever you like. Just say the word, and I’ll put you on that plane.’ He wipes across the flesh at the base of my nail and sits back to observe his handiwork. It’s not bad at all, considering his big hands and the tiny brush. He looks up at me. ‘Have you had a nice time?’ he asks on a smile, knowing all too well that I have.

‘Paradise.’ I muse, resting my head back. ‘Continue.’ I nod at my foot in his lap.

His eyes narrow playfully. ‘Yes, my lady.’

‘Good boy,’ I sigh dreamily, relaxing into the pillow. ‘What happens when we get home?’

He continues with the painting of my nails, not giving my question the acknowledgment it deserves. Something needs to be done, preferably by the police, not Steve. While Jesse evacuating me from the country was a welcome escape, I also know it was to maintain his sanity. He can’t hide me in Paradise forever, although I know he doesn’t think that his ambitious intention is irrational at all, and if he keeps up this mood and relaxed persona, neither will I.

‘What happens is that you’ll go to work and finally fulfil your promise to enlighten Patrick of Mikael.’ He tosses an expectant look, which I ignore.

‘Do you think Mikael stole your car?’

‘I have no fucking clue, Ava.’ He places my foot down and picks up the other. ‘I’m dealing with it, so don’t worry your pretty little head.’

‘How are you dealing with it?’ I can’t help the question. I really want to know because something tells me that like most of Jesse’s ways, it won’t be conventional.

As I knew I would, I get landed with a warning look, and I’m mindful that by pushing this, I may very well get tossed off Central Jesse Cloud Nine before we arrive back in London.

I soak up his reproachful look for a few moments, not backing down or wiping the expectant look from my face, and yet I know I won’t be given a satisfying reply. I’ve already quietly accepted that, and I’ve also already mentally agreed not to pursue it. ‘End of.’ he says simply, and I know it really is.

So I relax and let him finish the intricate task of painting my toenails as I silently appreciate both his attentiveness and the fact that he’s scrunched over, leaning down close to carry out his task, yet there is not a roll of fat on that stomach, whatsoever.

‘You’re done.’ he declares, screwing the lid back on. ‘I’m even amazing at this.’ There is no humour in his tone.

I pull my feet up and lean over to take a look, half expecting to see a set of pink coloured feet, but no. Jesse is, indeed, amazing at painting toenails as well as everything else, except cooking. ‘Not bad,’ I flip casually, feigning the wiping of some stray polish that isn’t even there.

‘Not bad? I’ve done a better job than you’d ever do, lady.’ He jumps up from the bed. ‘You’re so lucky to have me.’

I scoff. ‘Are you not lucky?’ I ask incredulously. He’s such an arrogant arse.

‘I’m luckier.’ He winks, and I’m speedily dragged from my offended state on a sigh. ‘Come on, lady. Let’s go exploring.’

* * *

We pull off a roundabout and up to a security gate that leads down to a port. Jesse lowers his window and flashes a plastic card at a screen and the gate opens instantly, allowing him to drive through. ‘Where are we?’ I ask, edging forward in my seat to look down the road ahead.

‘This is The Port, baby.’ He proceeds at a crawl and turns onto a pedestrianized area, people mechanically moving to make way, not giving the DBS a second glance. I would’ve thought this strange, but I quickly register the dozens of prestigious cars, all parked in bays along the front. And not just the odd Merc or BMW. I’m looking at rows of Bentleys, Ferraris and even another Aston Martin, all screaming billionaires. These people are quite clearly used to ridiculously expensive cars, but my attention is speedily drawn from the row of expensive vehicles when I clock the rows and rows of boats. No, not boats. These are yachts.

‘Fucking hell.’ I whisper as Jesse slips into an empty bay and turns the ignition off.

‘Ava! Please, watch your fucking mouth.’ He heaves a tired breath and gets himself out of the car, making his way around to my side. I’m stuck in my seat, astounded by the bright whiteness of many huge floating mountains on the marina. ‘Out you get.’

I absentmindedly eject myself with the assistance of Jesse’s hand while keeping my eyes on the boats. I can’t even find words. But then I do. ‘Please don’t tell me you own one of those.’ I look at him with wide eyes. I don’t know why I sound so shocked. This man is beyond wealthy, but a yacht?

He smiles and slips his shades on. ‘No, I sold it many years ago.’

‘So you did have one?’

‘Yes, but I didn’t have a fucking clue how to sail the stupid thing.’ He takes my hand and leads me away from the car, towards a pathway where we’re safe from moving vehicles.

‘Why did you buy it in the first place then?’ I ask, looking up at him, but he just shrugs my question off and points out across the sea.

‘Over there is Morocco.’

I follow the direction of his hand, but all I see is open water. He’s trying to divert my enquiring mind. ‘Lovely,’ I say with lashings of sarcasm, just so he knows that I know his ploy. I’m drawing my own conclusions on Paradise and big yachts, but as I’ve reminded myself before, Jesse’s past is exactly that.

‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.’ He pulls me under his arm and makes a meal of biting at my ear. ‘What would you like to do?’

‘Let’s mooch about.’

‘Mooch?’

‘Yes, mooch.’ I repeat, looking up at an amused expression. ‘Like browse, peruse, mooch about.’

He smiles down at me, almost fascinated. ‘Okay. I feel another Camden coming on.’

‘Yes, exactly like Camden, but no funny sex shops.’ I finish quietly.

Now he’s laughing. ‘Oh, there are plenty of funny sex shops on the back streets. Want to see?’

‘No, I don’t.’ I grumble, reflecting back to our very own little pole dancing treat by that demented, leather clad, dominatrix type. I inwardly gasp. A Sarah type. Holy shit, she looked just like Sarah, minus the whip, instead playing with a pole. Sarah may very well have a pole, who knows, but my sudden comprehension is overshadowing the similarities of the women. ‘You didn’t find that attractive, did you?’ I don’t need to elaborate. He knows what I’m referring to.

My chin is grasped and pulled to face him. ‘I’ve told you before. There’s only one thing that turns me on, and I love her in lace.’

‘Good.’ I say quietly, because I don’t know what else to say. He’s probably made the Sarah connection, too, and even though Sarah more or less confirmed Jesse’s aversion to her leather clad arse, I needed to hear it for myself and from him.

He kisses my forehead and takes a deep breath into my hair. ‘Come on, Mrs Ward. Let’s mooch.’

* * *

I’m thoroughly fed-up of mooching by the time we’re back on the marina front, and I know Jesse has humoured me to within an inch of his life, insisting on buying everything that I picked up or looked at in a bid to reduce my browsing time. This wouldn’t have bothered me too much if it wasn’t for the kind of stores in which we were mooching. This is no Camden. Yes, there were a few knickknack stalls, but I was mainly directed into the abundance of designer stores, leaving me feeling a million times more conspicuous than I ever did in Harrods. The quiet, minimal spaces were dressed with just a few key pieces, not leaving much scope for mooching at all. I did see an exquisite tan bag which I braved a touch of, just to feel the softness of the leather, and Jesse, of course, took this small motion as an indication of my liking and quickly had it wrapped and bagged. I didn’t try to stop him. I really do love my new bag, so I showed him my gratitude, to which he responded by buying me everything that I looked at throughout the afternoon, each time giving me an expectant look to prompt my thank you.

He’s weighed down with bags now, and God bless him, he looks harassed. ‘I’ll put these in the car. Wait there.’ He leaves me on the side of the pedestrianized area, coating my lips in Chapstick, while he goes over to the car to dump the bags, making his way quickly back over and grabbing me. I stifle a yelp as I’m suspended in his arms and ravished. ‘God, I’ve missed you.’ His mouth slides over my freshly moisturised lips with ease as he takes me for all to see. As always, I’m oblivious to our location and company, letting him do as he pleases with me. ‘Hmm, you taste good.’ He pulls back and pouts, his own lips shimmering slightly from the transfer of my Chapstick.

‘If you want to wear ladies lipstick, then do it properly.’ I reach up to apply, and he does nothing to stop me, even puckering to make the coating easier. ‘Better,’ I conclude on a smile. ‘You’re even more handsome with shimmery lips.’

‘Probably.’ he agrees, with complete ease, smacking his lips together. ‘Come on, I need to feed my wife and peanuts.’ He returns me to a vertical position and starts to reposition the slipping straps of my little yellow sundress. ‘These need tightening.’

Shrugging his fussing hands away, I lead on, pulling my own straps into place and disregarding the grunts of protest coming from behind me. ‘Where are you feeding me?’ I ask over my shoulder, keeping up my stride. I’m not striding for long, though. My wrist is seized, and I’m suddenly pulling against a dead weight.

‘Don’t walk away from me,’ he practically growls, spinning me around to face him. He’s scowling, while I’m grinning. ‘And you can wipe that grin off your face.’ He proceeds to tighten my straps, muttering some rubbish about an insufferable wife, who drives him fucking crazy. ‘Better. Where are all the clothes I bought you?’

‘At home.’ I answer curtly, not that any were suitable for a holiday in the sun. I wasn’t exactly given time to go holiday shopping, so I made do with my holiday wardrobe from a few years ago. I was early twenties then, and these clothes he keeps moaning about reflect it.

He takes a deep breath of patience. ‘Why do you insist on being so difficult?’

‘Because I know it drives you crazy.’

‘You just enjoy reducing me to a crazy madman.’

‘You make yourself a crazy madman.’ I laugh. ‘You need no help in that department, Jesse. I’ve told you before; you do not dictate my wardrobe.’

His eyes burn with green displeasure, but I don’t shy away from his hulking, fierceness. I’m really rather brave. ‘You drive me crazy.’ he repeats, because he doesn’t know what else he can say.

‘What are you going to do?’ I ask smugly. ‘Divorce me?’

‘Watch your fucking mouth!’

‘I didn’t even swear!’ I’m really laughing now.

‘Yes, you fucking did! The worse word, in fact. I forbid you to say it.’

Oh, now I’ve really got the chuckles. ‘You forbid me?’

His arms fold over his chest in an act of authority, like I’m a bloody child. ‘Yes, I forbid you.’

‘Divorce.’ I whisper.

‘Now you’re just being childish.’ he huffs, just like a child.

‘-ish.’ I shrug. ‘Feed me.’

He scoffs loudly and shakes his head. ‘I should fucking starve you and reward you with food when you do what you’re fucking told.’ My shoulders are clenched, I’m turned around and then guided towards a sea-front restaurant. ‘I’ll feed you here.’

We’re shown to a table for two on the outside terrace and settled by a happy Spanish man with slicked black hair and a moustache to match. ‘Drinks?’ he asks in a thick Spanish accent.

‘Water, thank you.’ Jesse sits me down and tucks me under the table before taking a seat opposite and passing me a menu. ‘The Tapas are sublime.’

‘You pick.’ I hand the menu back over the table. ‘I’m sure you’ll make a suitable choice.’ My eyebrows are raised cheekily, and the menu is taken from my hand thoughtfully, but with no scorn or reproving look.

‘Thank you.’ he says slowly.

‘You’re welcome,’ I counter, pouring us a glass of water each when the waiter places an ice cold jug on the table. It’s muggy and my thirst has hit hard at the sight of water trickling down the side of the glass pitcher. I down the whole glass in one foul swoop and immediately pour another.

‘Thirsty?’ he watches in astonishment as I make quick work of the second glass, nodding over the rim. ‘Be careful.’ he warns. I’m frowning over the rim, but unable to stop gulping the icy liquid. ‘You might drown the babies.’

I cough a little on a laugh and place my water down to grab a napkin. ‘Will you stop with that?’

‘What? I’m just showing some fatherly concern.’ He looks hurt, but I know better.

‘You don’t think I can look after our babies, do you?’

‘Yes I do.’ he retorts softly, with absolutely zero conviction. He really doesn’t. I’m shocked, and my face probably shows it, even if he’s refusing to meet my eyes so he can see for himself.

‘What the hell do you think I’m going to do?’ I regret the question the second it falls from my mouth, even more so when his head snaps up and I’m hit with a sceptical look. ‘Don’t’ I warn, my voice cracking and tears of regret immediately burning the back of my eyes. I work hard to blink them back, mentally beating myself up for my cold hearted thoughts. I feel terrible enough all on my own, without Jesse enflaming the guilt.

I’m looking anywhere and everywhere, except at Jesse because to look at his face right now will remind me of the dark place I need to forget. I don’t blame him for doubting my capabilities, I’m pretty doubtful myself, but I have him, as he keeps reminding me.

He’s sitting next to me in a heartbeat and pulling me into his side, stroking my back and burying his mouth into hair. ‘I’m sorry. Don’t get upset, please.’

‘I’m okay,’ I brush his concern away. It’s plain to see that I’m not okay, but I can’t lose control of my emotions in the middle of a restaurant for all to see. I’m already being stared at by a woman a few tables away. I’m in no mood for nosey parkers, so I flip her a look before pulling out of Jesse’s chest. ‘I said I’m fine.’ I snap shortly, picking my glass up, just for something to do other than cry.

‘Ava.’ he says quietly, but I can’t look at him. I can’t look into the eyes of the man I love when I know he’ll be showing utter contempt for me. Will he ever let me forget this? ‘Look at me,’ He sounds harsher, firmer now, but I disobey, noticing that bloody woman still staring. I meet her eyes, enhancing my fuck off look, which quickly prompts her to return to her dinner. ‘Three,’

I actually roll my eyes, but not because he’s started the countdown. No, it’s because I know I won’t be getting any Jesse style fuck or trample when he reaches zero.

‘Two,’

It’s like he’s dangling a carrot that I’m never going to get a bite of. Stupid, I know, but the need for Jesse and all of his talent for fucking me into submission has become engrained in me, pregnancy only seeming to enhance my desire for it.

‘One,’

I exhale tiredly and start fiddling with my fork, refusing to submit, probably only shortening his fuse.

‘Zero, baby.’ I’m snatched from my chair before my brain filters the final call of the countdown, and I’m on the floor, wrists pinned above my head and Jesse straddling my waist. My eyes are wide and the restaurant is silent. You could hear a pin drop. I’m staring up at Jesse, who is unashamed and most unconcerned by our surroundings. He’s got me sprawled on the floor in a restaurant. What the fucking hell is he playing at? I dare not even look away from him. I can feel a million sets of shocked eyes drilling into the spectacle Jesse has created. I’m mortified.

‘Jesse, let me up.’ I wouldn’t put much past him, but this? This is way past unashamed. Fucking hell, what if someone tries to pull him off me?

‘I did warn you, baby.’ His face is awash with amusement, while I’m simply horrified. ‘Wherever, whenever.’

‘Yes, okay.’ I wriggle. ‘You’ve made your point.’

‘I don’t think I have.’ he says casually, making himself comfortable, suspending his face over mine. ‘I love you.’

I want the ground to swallow me up whole. Ravishing me and kissing the living daylights out of me on a busy street is one thing. Pinning me to the floor in a busy restaurant is insane. ‘I know, let me up.’

‘No,’

Oh God, I can’t even hear the chinking of knives and forks, which tells me all eating has halted. ‘Please,’ I beg quietly.

‘Tell me you love me.’

‘I love you,’ I grate the words through my teeth.

‘Say it like you mean it, Ava.’ He’s not going to give up, not until I follow through on his stupid, unreasonable order to his satisfaction.

‘I love you.’ I sound softer, but still uneasy.

He eyes me suspiciously, but what the hell does he expect? I’m beyond relieved when he shifts and pulls me to my feet, choosing to remain on his knees in front of me. I take my time straightening myself out, anything to avoid facing the masses of diners, who are undoubtedly looking on in shock. After I’ve spent much more time than is really necessary brushing myself down, I chance a quick look around the restaurant, then proceed to die a thousand deaths on the spot. I’m tempted to run for it, but I notice Jesse still on his knees in front of me.

‘Get up.’ I say on a hushed whisper, despite the obviousness of being heard. It’s still eerily silent.

He walks forward on his knees until he’s flush with the front on my legs, and then slides his hands around to my arse, looking up at me with puppy dog eyes. ‘Ava Ward, my beautiful, defiant girl.’ My face is heating further by the second. ‘You make me the happiest man on this fucking planet. You married me, and now you’re blessing me with twin babies.’ He slips a hand from my arse and onto my tummy, circling adoringly before dropping a kiss in the centre. There’s definitely a few sighs from our spectators. ‘I love you so fucking much. You’re going to be an incredible mummy to my babies.’ I can do nothing more than stare down at him as he makes his public declaration, the embarrassing fool. And there are more sighs. He kisses his way up my body until he’s in my neck. ‘Don’t try to stop me from loving you. It makes me sad.’

‘Sad or crazy?’ I ask quietly.

He emerges from his hiding place in my neck and gathers my hair, draping it down my back before cupping both of my cheeks in my palms. ‘Sad.’ he affirms. ‘Kiss me, wife.’

I’m not up for any further embarrassment, so I conform and give him exactly what he wants. This way I get to escape sooner. But then clapping starts, and I’m soon missing Jesse’s lips on mine as he takes a bow and sits me back down. We’re staying?

‘I love her.’ He shrugs, like that explains why he has just manhandled me to the floor and demanded a declaration of love, before announcing to a bunch of strangers that we’re expecting twins.

‘Twins!’

I jump at the excited, broken English of the waiter, who waves a bottle of champagne in front of us. ‘You must celebrate.’ He pops the cork and pours two glasses. I cringe. It’s very thoughtful, but there’s no way either of us are drinking it.

‘Thank you,’ I smile up at him, praying he doesn’t hang around to watch us clink glasses and swig. ‘That’s very kind.’ He must hear my mental plea or see my distressed face because he backs away, leaving me assessing the surroundings. People have returned to their meals, some flicking fond looks every so often, but the interest seems to have died down. That woman is still staring, though. I frown at her, but I’m distracted when Jesse’s hand lands on my knee. I turn and find a face full of mischievousness. Yes, he’s demonstrated his point loud and clear, and for everyone to see.