This Man Confessed(99)

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

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

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

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

“Pick the book up,” he snarls.

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

“Pick the book up, Ava.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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





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

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

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

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