This Man Confessed(95)

“Amalie would marry well and be a good wife and mother, and I believe she might have fulfilled her obligation. It said Doctor David, didn’t it?”

“It did.”

“There you are, then.” His tone carries an air of bitterness, which I can’t help but feel, too.

He really did go all out after Jake died, like he was on a defiance mission to make up for Jake’s absence; like, in a weird kind of way, he was avenging his brother’s death. He was doubling up on the delinquencies, ensuring he didn’t break the pact. “You started spending more time with Carmichael after Jake’s death?”

“I did. Carmichael knew the score. He’d been through it himself with my granddad.” His hands slip all over my back. “Are you comfy?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” I brush off his concern quickly, wanting him to continue.

“It was a relief. I escaped the daily reminder that Jake wasn’t with me anymore, and I distracted myself with jobs that my uncle gave me around The Manor.” He shifts a little. “Are you sure you’re comfy?”

“I’m bloody comfy!” I tweak his nipple, and he laughs. This is good. He’s at ease sharing this with me.

“She’s comfy,” he muses.

“She is. What jobs did you do?”

“Everything. I’d collect the glasses in the bar, mow the lawns. Dad went through the roof, but I didn’t let him stop me. Then they announced that we were moving to Spain.”

“And you refused to go.”

“Yes. I hadn’t ventured into the rooms of The Manor at that point. I was still a Manor virgin.” He’s grinning. I know he is. “But on my eighteenth birthday, Carmichael let me loose in the bar. Worst thing he could’ve done. I slipped right in. It came naturally. Too naturally.” I look up at him. The grin has gone. “If simply being at The Manor took my mind away from all of my troubles, then being drunk and having sex at The Manor eliminated them completely.”

“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.