Текст книги "This Man Confessed"
Автор книги: Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Текущая страница: 27 (всего у книги 34 страниц)
‘You can tell them the money will land in their account before the week is out. You have the proof.’ Jesse’s fingers work through my hair softly as he speaks sharply. ‘And no trouble when you leave.’ he warns.
I know what that means, but I don’t know what the proof is. My washed-out mind is too exhausted to even ask, and I don’t care, anyway. I watch as Dan nods his acceptance and then strides out of Jesse’s office, not looking back.
Chapter 29
‘I want to show you something.’ Jesse says as he collects me from the car outside Lusso. ‘Do you want me to carry you?’ I don’t know why he’s asked me because I’m draped across his arms before the question registers in my useless brain.
‘What do you want to show me?’ I ask, resting my head on his suit covered shoulder. These are the first words I have spoken since watching Dan leave Jesse’s office, and not because I haven’t been spoken to. I couldn’t even muster up the strength to growl a warning at Sarah as we passed her in the entrance hall of The Manor. She smiled awkwardly, refrained from laying her wandering hands all over Jesse and stepped back, almost warily, like she was fully expecting a backlash from me. The surprise was clear when I ignored her presence, choosing to walk on and leave Jesse to talk business with her. And I know that’s all it was and all it ever will be. Business.
‘You’ll see.’ He strides into the foyer of Lusso, and I smile when I hear Clive’s cheerful voice. He’s not as easy on the eye as our new concierge, but I’ll always favour Clive’s age worn and jolly face, rather than Casey’s fresh, pretty one.
‘Congratulations!’ he chants. I’m not surprised. Either Jesse really has broadcasted it, or Cathy’s been getting excited. ‘Wonderful news!’ His voice is getting closer as I’m carted across the marble towards the elevator. ‘Let me get that for you, Mr Ward.’ He jumps in front of Jesse and pushes in the code for the penthouse lift.
‘Thanks, Clive.’ Jesse sounds just as cheerful, as if being reminded of his peanuts. He’s not pushed too much conversation on the journey back to the city, letting me quietly reflect on my recent revelation—the revelation that my brother is stupid and my husband is now two hundred grand lighter because of it.
‘Very good, Mr Ward, very good. You look after yourself, Ava.’ His instruction is stern, and I smile fondly as his crabby face disappears when the doors meet in the middle.
‘You let Clive call me Ava.’ I point out casually.
He looks down at me with raised, cautionary eyebrows. ‘Your point being?’
‘Just saying.’ I find the muscle power to curve my lips into grin, my husband’s possessiveness providing the amused strength necessary.
‘I’m ignoring you.’ He’s fighting his own grin as we exit the lift and he lets us into the penthouse, kicking the door shut behind me.
‘You won’t be able to carry me soon.’ I grumble, holding on extra tight. I’ll miss it so much, but when I’m bursting at the seams and double the size, I can’t envisage being carried with such ease, like I’m just an extension of his own body.
‘Don’t worry, lady.’ He kisses my forehead and turns to push his back into his office door. ‘I’ve ready increased the weights I’m lifting in preparation.’
I gasp and reach up to pull his hair. ‘Hey!’ I’m placed on my feet, but I still have hold of his hair.
‘You’re a savage, lady.’ He laughs, his head lowered to prevent the pull. ‘Are you going to let go?’
‘Say sorry.’
‘Sorry.’ He’s still laughing. ‘I’m sorry. Let go.’
It’s ludicrous. He could stop me in a heartbeat, but he’s letting me have the power. For now, anyway. I release him and kick my shoes off. ‘My feet hurt.’ I complain, wriggling my toes. ‘Why are we in your office?’
‘I wanted to show you something.’
‘A picture of Jake?’ I ask hopefully, probably too eagerly as well. I really want to see what Jesse’s twin looked like.
‘Well, no.’ His frown line jumps onto his forehead.
‘What then?’ I ask, utterly intrigued. He looks shifty all of a sudden, uncomfortable and all boyish. ‘What’s up with you?’
‘Turn around.’ he commands softly, resting his hands in his pockets.
I’m not sure I want to. I look at him questioningly, but he remains silent and his frown line remains fixed in place. He’s concerned, which makes me concerned, and very very curious. I slowly pivot, wanting to close my eyes, but far too inquisitive to do it. And then the wall slowly comes into view, and I stop breathing. A choked gasp flies from my gaping mouth, and I’ve taken a step back because Jesse’s chest is pressed up against me. Or maybe he has stepped forward to steady me. I’m not sure. I can’t even take it all in. My eyes run from one side of the large wall, the length of his office to the other end.
It’s completely coated in… me.
Every square inch is me. Not framed pictures or canvases or photographs. It’s wallpaper, although you would never know it. Each seam is so incredibly perfect, it looks like one giant piece of art—a homage to me, and the biggest piece, the centre piece, is me spread on the cross in our room at The Manor. I’m naked, my eyes are dropped low and my lips are parted. My hair is a mass of glossy waves, framing my lust filled face and the sensual vibes pumping from my body in the still shot is tangible. I can feel it as I’m standing here.
My gaze starts to drift, absorbing it all. There’s too much, and I’m gasping again as I spot a motion shot of my back as I rush down the steps of The Manor. It wouldn’t be particularly strange, but I can clearly see the head of a calla lily, extending from the side of my fleeing body. And I register my dress. It’s my navy pencil dress. It’s the dress I wore to my very first consultation with Mr Jesse Ward.
‘That was the first one I took.’ he murmurs, ‘It became a bit of an obsession after that.’ His voice is quiet and unsure. I swing around, my mouth still gaping. I can’t possibly speak. The lump in my throat is doing too good a job of stopping me. He’s biting his lip, watching me closely. I swallow and turn back to the wall.
The Ava wall.
I’m everywhere. I’m at the launch night of Lusso; I’m sitting on the bench at the dock side after our encounter; I’m in the shower, the kitchen, on the terrace. I’m in Harrods changing rooms, and I’m sitting on my stool in bar at The Manor. I’m kitted out in my biker leathers, and I’m storming away from him in an oversized, cream knitted jumper. I smile, noting so many shots of my back from where I’m running away from him, probably after I’ve received the countdown or I’m having a strop. I’m naked in countless, or just in lace. And then there’s me in handcuffs on the bed, and another of me swimming in the pool at The Manor. I’m laughing with Kate; I’m brushing my hair from my face; I’m eating lunch in Baroque; I’m dancing with my friends, and I’m tapping my front tooth with my fingernail. I also see myself slouched in the passenger seat of the DBS, clearly drunk. I’m running towards the Thames and I’m collapsed on the grass in The Green Park. I’m pushing a trolley around the supermarket, I’m getting changed into my baggy shit, and I’m brushing my teeth. I’m asleep on the jet and standing on the veranda in Paradise. I’m poking about on the market stalls, kicking the sand on the beach and cooking breakfast in the villa. We only returned from Spain yesterday. How did he do this? I’m asleep in his bed and asleep in his arms—there are so many of me asleep in his arms. Every facial expression imaginable and every habit I have is displayed in one of these pictures. It’s like my life in images since I first met this man. And I wasn’t aware of any of it. He really is obsessed with me, and if I’d have known about this in the early days, like when he persistently pursued me, I think I’d have ran faster and farther. Not now, though. Now I’m just reminded after a tiring day of this man’s love for me.
I’m astounded and unaware that my feet have taken me to the foot of the wall. I’m slowly walking the length of it, absorbing it all, each flick of my eyes finding another picture that I didn’t see before.
‘Here,’ Jesse’s quiet husk pulls my bewildered eyes from the Ava wall, and to a black, permanent marker pen. That alone makes me smile. ‘I want you to sign it.’
I take the pen and look up at him, unsure if he’s playing or not. He wants me to deface his Ava Wall? ‘Sign it with my name?’ I ask, a little confused.
‘Yes, wherever.’ He waves at the images.
I glance back at the wall and laugh lightly, still dazed by what I’m confronted with. I step forward and pop the lid from the pen, looking for a spare space for me to scribble my name, but then I spot the first shot that he ever took of me and I approach it, armed with my pen. Smiling to myself, I write beneath the shot of me fleeing The Manor.
Today I met you.
This day was the beginning of the rest of my life.
From this moment, I was your Ava x
Then I make my way over to the image of me sitting by the docks on the launch night of Lusso.
Today I realised how in deep I was.
And I wanted to be so much deeper with you.
I move along the wall to the picture of me drunk in Jesse’s car and smile as I write;
Today I learnt that you can dance. I also admitted to myself that I was in love with you, and I think I might have told you too.
I’m in my stride now. I quickly locate the picture of me in the chunky jumper, after he manhandled me into the damn thing.
Today I found out that I’m just for your eyes.
Then I’m writing underneath the picture of me walking naked from the bedroom after I found him collapsed at Lusso, and after he showed me how he does his talking.
Today I learnt that I’m for your touch and for your pleasure only. But my favourite part of today was when you told me that you love me.
My pen drifts over to the shot of me handcuffed.
Today you introduced me to the retribution fuck.
I quickly scan the wall and find a picture of me walking in front of him through the foyer of The Ritz.
Today I found out how old you are… and that you don’t like being handcuffed.
I can’t stop. Each and every image brings a thought, and I find myself marking picture after picture with my memories in words. He doesn’t stop me. I just keep going, like I’m writing a diary of the last few months of my life. I don’t need to record it, each and every moment is etched on my brain, good and bad, but these are all good. And there are so so many of them. It’s sometimes too easy to let them slip to the outer edges when the not so good gets in the way. Our short time together has been a bombardment of bad, but all of this good far outweighs the challenging moments. He’s reminded me.
My hand is aching by the time I reach my final picture—my final picture for now, anyway. I’m sure I’ll be thinking of more captions to add. It’s the one of me standing on the veranda in Paradise. I push my pen to the wall.
Today I decided that you’re right. We will be okay.
And yes, I do have a bump… ish, and I love you for giving it to me.
I’ll always love you.
End of.
Replacing the lid on the pen, I take a deep breath and finally face my Lord, bumping right into his chest and getting a waft of his fresh, minty scent. I look up at him, finding a straight face and clouded green eyes. ‘I’m done.’ I whisper quietly, but he’s not looking at me. He’s studying all of my captions, his eyes travelling across the wall and pausing every now and then to read what I have written.
He takes the pen and moves towards the picture of me fleeing The Manor, and then gets up close and personal with the wall. I can’t see what he’s writing, and I shift to try and look around his body, but he’s too close. He finally moves away, and I see it, scrolled across the top of the image.
Today my heart started beating again.
Today you became mine.
I press my lips together and watch as he moves across to an image of me seated in the long grass of The Manor’s grounds in my wedding dress, top to toe in ivory lace and with the sun shooting bullets of light through the trees behind me. I’m looking away, probably at the photographer. Again, Jesse gets up close to the wall, and then moves away, chewing the end on the pen. He’s drawn a perfect halo above my head and written;
My beautiful girl.
My defiant temptress.
My lady.
My angel.
My Ava.
I smile and step forward, taking the pen from his mouth and dragging him from his daydream. I replace the lid and drop it to the floor, then gracefully climb up him until I’m wrapped around his big body.
His palms are cupping my bum and his eyes and burning into mine. ‘Ava, today has been the longest fucking day of my life.’
‘Longer than the last longest day?’
‘Each day gets longer. I’ve gotten too used to having you twenty four seven. I believe that I owe you some special time.’ Those words have me pushing his suit jacket from his arms and my lips crashing to his, ravenously. ‘Easy,’ he warns gently, moving each arm in turn so I can rid him of his jacket. ‘What’s the rush?’
I force my lips to slow their devouring of him—easier said than done when I haven’t had him for two full days. ‘It’s been too long.’ I mumble, pulling at his tie, probably strangling him in the process, but I’m not releasing his lips to confirm it.
‘Hey,’ He’s pulling at my limbs, trying to pry me from him. I’m not making it easy for him, although it’s not long before I’m on my feet again, breathing heavy and with no contact. He steps back and pulls his tie over his head before kicking off his Grensons and socks. His eyes are ablaze and virtually burning my dress from my body. ‘Take your dress off.’ he orders, working the buttons of his shirt, and then starting on his cuffs, never breaking our eye contact. It’s not helping me in my hungry state, not at all.
It takes me three seconds flat to unzip my dress and pull it up over my head, leaving me standing in my lace and taking a quick glimpse down at my stomach to see if it’s grown throughout the day. I breathe in to try and gage it, getting slightly side-tracked from my masterpiece of a husband, who’s standing only a few feet away. He’s definitely right, and I have the black pencil dress to prove it. It’s all downhill from here. My hand lifts and slides onto my navel, my rings sparkling as I rub slow circles around my bellybutton. The bond is growing, and it’s growing fast. A piece of me and a piece of Jesse, two pieces, in fact, are growing inside of me, and the very thought has me overcome with a sudden sense of warmness that I’ve never felt before—a warmness that deepens when Jesse’s hand lays over mine and he stoops down, nuzzling my face upwards so he can access my mouth.
‘Incredible, isn’t it?’ he asks, reattaching me to his body with an effortless pull of my upper thighs.
‘Yes,’ I agree, wholeheartedly. ‘Just like you.’
‘And you.’
‘More you.’ I argue. ‘Show me how incredible you are. I’ve forgotten.’ I provoke his arrogance with those words and bow my back, lifting myself higher to him so he has to drop his head back to maintain our kiss. The low rumbling growl emanating from deep inside of him, travels through our joined mouths and warms me further.
He starts walking from his office through the vast openness of the penthouse, where I’m laid on the huge corner couch and my backside is pulled to the end so my lower body is propped up on the arm. He removes his trousers and boxers, revealing the beauty of his cock, hard, ready, and within touching distance, but he kneels down at the end of the couch, taking it clean from my view. I don’t have time to complain. My knickers are removed, my legs are pulled apart and his mouth is on the inside of my thigh fast, kissing gently, shifting to the other thigh and teasing softly. Forward and back he goes, moving from one side to the other, getting higher with each set, his hands spreading me further as he makes his way to my pulsing centre.
‘Jesse,’ I take in air, my legs needing to move. My hand flies up to grasp the leather on the backrest of the couch, my other cupping the back of his head.
‘Have you remembered how incredible I am?’ he asks seriously, pulling back and blowing over my raw flesh.
‘Yes!’ My hands are twitching as his cool breath spreads over me and travels down my thighs. ‘Shit!’ I try to close my legs when I feel the first dash of contact from his tongue on my clitoris, but he’s just teasing me, giving me a taste of what’s to come, and my legs are going nowhere, except where he decides, which is wider, making me sensitive, more open and more frenzied.
‘Mouth, Ava,’ His tongue enters me and then licks an unspeakably delicious stroke up my middle. I cry out, my head thrashing from side to side. ‘Incredible?’ He’s cocky and sure, and has earned that privilege. ‘Tell me how it feels, baby.’
My fisted hand that is now clenching at his hair should tell him all he needs to know—that and my inaudible mumbling. I’m seeing stars, my belly is aching and my poor legs are unable to move. And then his fingers are inside me and my hands leave the sofa and his hair in favour of my own head. My stomach muscles are rigid as I lift my upper body up to try and quench the charging surge of pressure that’s descending from my tummy to my core. I decide in my fevered bliss that I want to see him, so I prop myself up on my elbows and gaze down the length of my body, seeing his palm resting on my stomach, while his fingers fuck me slowly.
‘Tell me,’ he pushes, sweeping through me with agonising precision.
‘It feels like you were made to fit me.’ My words are even and as sure as the expression on his face. He thinks that, too.
He smiles and leans in, tenderly kissing my sensitive skin before rising to his feet and grasping me under my thighs, lifting my lower body to position himself. I find my upper body lifting, too, my hands palm down behind me so I have the best view of him entering me. And it really is the best view. We both focus on his rigid cock as he brings it to me, no hands required, like it has a homing device that will take it to where it belongs. He meets my entrance and hovers for a while, just skimming my damp void, teasingly. I’m ever impatient, my lower legs curling around his lower back and pulling him towards me, but he’s going nowhere. Not until he says so. And he doesn’t say so. He just smirks that almost undetectable smirk while he keeps his eyes down, still teasing me with irregular and torturous skims of his slippery head across the very tip of my oversensitive small nub of nerves. He’s killing me, and I’m dying to lay myself back down, but I’m too engrossed by his cruel pleasure.
‘Shall we try penetration?’ he asks, but he still won’t look at me. I’m going out of my mind, but that defiance in me, coupled with his self-assured attitude, has me determined to match his poise.
‘If you like.’ My calm, aloof words have his greens leaving their rapt focus point on a surprised twinkle.
‘If I like?’ He pushes into me, only very slightly, but enough to force me to repress a moan. I know I’ll be made to wait longer if I’m impatient and demanding, so I control it. ‘What about if you like?’ In a little further he goes. I know my lips have just parted, and I know my chest is expanding fast. I’m trying my damn hardest, but every fibre of my being is giving me away. I’m held in place with one arm while his other hand reaches forward and yanks the cups of my bra down. Each nipple is given a sharp pinch, and I bite back a scream of pleasure mixed with intense pain. ‘My beautiful girl is trying to play it cool.’ he muses, adjusting his grip of me, ready to pound forward. ‘It’s a shame she’s shit at feigning casualness.’ He doesn’t pound forward, though. He eases in lazily, and my head rolls back on a groan. ‘That’s more like it.’ He’s completely submerged within me now, the tip of his impressive cock brushing my womb. ‘Show a bit of appreciation, Ava.’ He extracts himself, and this time he really does pound forward, surprisingly hard. My arms begin to shake, followed by my head in despair.
‘Again,’ I demand. He’s teased me too far this time. ‘Again!’
‘That depends.’
‘On what? You said it doesn’t always need to be hard.’ I’m battling to catch my breath, swallowing repeatedly. ‘Then you do this to me. Have you finally read the part of the book that confirms you won’t hurt the babies?’
‘Yes,’ He strikes with utter accuracy, buckling my arms, but then holds still again. ‘It’s a good book.’
‘It’s a good book now.’ I agree. Now that he’s read the most beneficial part, it’s a great book.
‘It was always a good book, but it did say you must listen to your body.’ He slides out again and pushes forward on a moan.
‘I’m listening, and it’s saying harder.’ I pant.
‘The babies are protected. I read that.’ He hisses and blows out a controlled breath. ‘And I can spank you, apparently.’ His palm collides with my arse on a loud smack, and I yelp.
‘You’ve already slapped me!’ I remind him on a shout as he re-enters me.
‘But I didn’t think you were pregnant then.’ He reminds me on another sharp assault of his palm across my bum. ‘Good?’
‘Yes!’ I persuade my head to lift and when it does, I go dizzy with gratefulness. My tongue leaves my mouth of its own accord and journeys across my bottom lip slowly, enticingly. ‘You look amazing.’ I breathe, watching each finely tuned muscle on his abdomen bunch and his biceps bulge from holding my lower body to him.
‘I know.’ He grinds smooth and slow.
‘Oh God!’ My arms finally give in, collapsing and leaving me flat on my back.
‘I know,’ he agrees, ‘I fucking know.’
‘Jesse, I’m going to come.’ I’m not so bothered about maintaining my resistance now. It’s long gone.
‘I’m not.’ Out and in he slides all over again. ‘Are you listening to your body, Ava?’
‘Yes! And it’s telling me I need to come!’
Slap! ‘Don’t be fucking smart!’ He swivels, pulls free completely and slips his cock straight up my centre, instigating a stupidly satisfying friction of his flesh against mine. ‘Well, it’s telling me that I’m doing a damn fine job of servicing you.’ He’s shaking. I can feel it travelling through his arms and into my legs, but he maintains his silky smooth thrusts. ‘Fuck, I need to be all over you.’ My lower body is dropped and my hands grasped, pulling me up to his standing body with an easy tug. I’m on the rug, beneath him in no time at all, my nipples being teased by his tongue and his hand between my thighs, guiding himself back to me.
Now that I can feel his skin, I notice just how sweaty he is. My hands are feeling out every inch of him. ‘Kiss me,’ I plead, and he doesn’t mess about. Our mouths are together, he’s sliding back inside of me and our bodies are touching in every place possible. His momentum is perfect, and I’m rocking my hips up to meet him on every drive, capturing the spikes of pleasure that each one of his plunges is instigating. My hands land on his arse and my nails dig into his solid cheeks as he ravishes me with his mouth, our tongues dancing wildly and hungrily.
‘I think…’ he’s on my cheek, pushing on. ‘you should…’ now he’s at my neck, then he’s biting at the lobe of my ear. ‘quit your job.’
I shake my head, tipping my hips up on a long, happy moan. ‘No,’
‘But I want to spend every day doing this. Give me back your mouth.
I turn my head into to him. ‘You’ll have to wait until I get home.’ I’m biting his lip now and pushing my hands into his arse to gain some friction.
‘I don’t want to.’ He bites me back. ‘Wherever, whenever.’
‘Except when I’m at work. Deeper.’
‘Oh, so she can make the demands, then?’ He doesn’t go deeper, the bastard.
‘I’m not quitting my job.’
‘And how do you expect to look after my babies if you’re working.’ He asks the arrogant question around my mouth on a painfully perfect rotation of his hips.
‘But you want me at home to do this, not to look after your babies.’
‘Now you’re just being awkward.’ He abandons my mouth and leans down to bite my nipple before kissing his way back up my body. ‘Deeper?’
‘Please.’
‘Okay,’ He goes deep. Very deep. So lusciously, amazingly deep.
‘Hmmmmm.’
He stills and concentrates on kissing the life out of me. ‘Do you see? I’m giving you what you want.’
He most definitely is, but I know where this is going, and it’s called a sense fuck without the brute force. I need to be careful here. ‘You’re too good to me.’ I quip. ‘Ohhhhh!’ I’m tinkering on the edge of orgasm obliteration, but this is so nice—just steady lovemaking, feeling each other and taking our blissful time.
He swallows my sated moan, continuing to explore my mouth, like he’s never had it before. Our sex sessions, whether steamy or romantic, hard or soft, are always like the first time all over again. ‘You should show your gratitude.’ He leaves my mouth and braces his upper body on his arms. ‘Don’t you think?’ He looks down between our bodies as he rears back, and I look down, too, seeing the full length of him emerging from my passage. ‘Look at that.’ he sighs and holds himself, just breaching my opening, then he looks up at me. ‘Just fucking perfect.’ He sinks in, smooth and slow on a long rush of hot breath that warms my face, even from his raised position. I’m starting to tremble and my useless arms fall back over my head. ‘She’s beginning to pant.’ he states, dropping to his forearms. ‘She’s trembling all over.’ His hips falter in their meticulous assault and judder forward.
He’s panting, too. And he’s trembling.
I’m holding my breath now, tensing everywhere ready to ride out my climax, so I can’t point this out.
‘I think she wants to come.’
I start shaking my head, even though I mean to nod and scream yes. I’m squirming under the hard, cut beauty of his body, our sweaty skins blending and sliding. My redundant arms and hands are rapidly rising, deciding all on their own that there is something they’d like to do. My fingers thread through that dirty blonde mass and grip hard.
‘She definitely wants to come.’ He sounds self-assured and cool, but his own body is having a fit of spasms as he tries to maintain his stable tempo. He’s failing on every level. His hip movements have become unpredictable, indicating his pending orgasm and his fast loss of control. ‘Fuck!’
And that word seals the deal. He’s way past the point of return, so I seize my opportunity, pulling harder on his hair and reaching up to sink my teeth into his sweat glistening shoulder in an attempt to supress my scream of release and encourage his. It works, as I knew it would.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ He’s working harder and faster into me, burying his face into my hair. ‘Now, Ava!’
I’m done for. I unclamp my teeth from his flesh and join him in his frantic oblivion of raw, carnal pleasure, throwing my arms around his neck and rolling my hips up to meet the last thorough thrash of his body into mine.
He collapses onto me carefully, but grinds slowly as he nibbles on my neck through his laboured breathing. ‘Please quit.’ he begs. ‘Then we really can stay like this forever.’
I can’t find my vocal cords, except to mumble some objection, which I do with an increase of pressure of my arms around his neck.
‘Was that a yes?’ He licks up the salty skin of my cheek and across my lips. ‘Say yes.’
‘No.’ I gasp.
‘Stubborn woman.’ He pecks my lips and rolls onto his back, ensuring he remains snuggly inside me and I’m comfortable on his lap. ‘We need to renew our vows.’
I frown and take a few moments to gather enough air in my lungs to form a sentence. ‘We’ve not even been married a month.’
My hips are seized and I tense, but then I watch as his eyes drift onto my stomach and his warning look transforms into a smile as he shifts his threatening hands to my small-ish bump and starts caressing it. ‘Yes, only a month and you’ve already forgotten a significant part of your promise.’
‘You can take your obey and swivel on it.’ I manage to get those words out just fine. I also manage to lift my heavy arms and wrap my palms around his neck.
He feigns a choke on a grin and pulls me down by the tops of my arms, curling his big palms around my neck. We’re both ready to strangle each other. ‘Who’d win?’ he asks, getting nose to nose with me.
‘You,’
‘Correct.’ he agrees. ‘I’m thirsty.’
I give a little shake of his neck, making him laugh. ‘I’ll get some water.’
‘You can’t pick and choose when you fulfil your wifely duties.’ He pushes me from his strewn body and lifts slightly to catch a slap of my arse as I walk away. ‘Water, wench!’
‘Don’t push it, Ward.’ I caution, snapping the cups of my bra back over my breasts and taking my mostly naked form into the kitchen.
‘Don’t even think about coming back in here until I can see your breasts again, lady!’ he shouts after me.
I have the biggest grin on my face as I open the fridge and collect two bottles of water. Negotiating my hold of the two ice cold bottles so I don’t punish my skin, I snatch another item that’s sitting all on its lonesome on the bottom shelf. I’m grinning again.
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Jesse’s affronted tone is the first thing to hit my ears when I reappear in the massive open space of the penthouse. He’s staring at my bra covered chest.
‘I heard you.’ I drop the bottles on the couch and keep my Jesse surprise behind my back.
He’s still flat on his back and he’s looking up at me with suspicious green eyes. ‘My wife has a crafty look on her beautiful face.’ The eyes have narrowed now. He slowly sits up and positions his back against the couch, then pats his lap. ‘And she’s hiding something from me.’ He reaches behind him and grabs a bottle of water, having a long swig before screwing the lid on slowly.
‘Crafty-ish.’ Taking his cue, I lower onto him and shift forward when he drops the bottle and cups my arse with both big palms.
‘There’s no –ish about it.’ One of his hands leaves my bum, but only for long enough to yank the cups of my bra down again. Then it’s firmly replaced. ‘What are you hiding?’
‘Something.’ I tease, moving to the side when he tries to crane his neck to get a peek. ‘No.’ I warn, and he huffs a little before resting back against the couch. I unscrew the lid behind my back and drop it before presenting the jar to my God, whose curious eyes have just sprung wide open in delight at the sight before him.
