This Man (This Man 1)

I stare into his sleepy eyes and reach up to run my thumb across his frown line, fanning my fingers in his hair. ‘So are you. ’ I say softly. He really is very beautiful.

He offers a half smile, lowers his head and nuzzles between my breasts. ‘Consider yourself reminded, lady. ’

Ha! I knew it. It was a reminder fuck after the sense fuck failed. Well, it didn’t fail. Although, I would be more inclined to say that he fucked me senseless.

Slowly peeling himself away from my body, he rests back on his heels. The cold rush of air that instantly invades me has me wanting to yank him back down. Yep, I’ve been reminded all right. He offers me both of his hands and I take them, letting him pull me up to straddle his thighs. Wrapping one arm around my back, he cradles me to him as he turns, maneuvering his body so he’s sitting up with his back resting against the headboard, me facing him. He rests his hands on my waist and circles his thumbs on my hips bones. It triggers a shudder to race through me. I throw my hands over his to still his movements.

He smirks at me. ‘Spend the day with me tomorrow. ’

Pardon? I thought this was just sex? Maybe he wants to spend all day in bed with me. Christ, after tonight, I need a week to recover - maybe longer. I am, quite literally, fucked.

‘I have things planned. ’ I say warily. I’m being sensible here. I need to keep it casual, or maybe not see him again at all. He’s the epitome of bad boy, if slightly older. He’s hazardous, enigmatic and completely addictive. I know all of this, but I fear I might be hooked.

‘What things?’ he asks on a slight pout.

I don’t actually have things planned. I have one thing planned – to sort my room out. It’s a shocker, but I’m restricted on space and overrun with personal effects. I should probably start looking for alternative arrangements, but I’m having such fun with Kate.

‘I need to sort my stuff out. ’ I clamp my hands down when I feel him try to move his thumbs again.

‘What stuff?’ He looks confused.

‘Kate’s place is temporary accommodation. I’ve been there for four weeks, everything is everywhere. I need to sort it out for when I get my own place. ’

‘Where were you four weeks ago?’

‘With Matt. ’

He recoils. ‘Who the fuck is Matt?’

‘Calm down. He’s my ex-boyfriend. ’

‘Ex?’

‘Yes, Ex. ’ I confirm, seeing a wave of relief travel across his face. What’s the matter with him? ‘Jesse, I need to get my car. ’ I press. I can’t leave Kate to drive Margo all the way to Yorkshire. She rattles and shakes all over the place; Kate will have piles by the time she gets there. She has to secure her cakes in boxes with polystyrene and straps, and reduce her speed to five miles an hour over speed humps.

Author: Jodi Ellen Malpas

‘Don’t worry. I’ll take you to get it in the morning. ’

Oh, so I’m staying then? ‘She’s leaving at eight-ish. ’ He might not be so keen if I’m dragging him out of bed at the crack of dawn on a Saturday.

‘-ish. ’ he mouths on a smirk. I mirror his smirk, gripping his hands and moving them up to my waist before I reach up to my head, feeling for the grips keeping my hair in place. They’re giving me a headache. I start pulling at them, and he looks up at me with narrowed eyes.

I pause. ‘What?’

‘You refuse to spend the day with me, and then thrust those fabulous boobs in my face. That’s not playing fair, Ava. ’ He reaches up and flicks a nipple, causing it to immediately pucker into a tight bud.

I yelp, grabbing my breast. ‘Hey! I need to take my grips out. They’re digging into my head. ’ I remove a grip and pop it in my mouth.

He watches me with interest, then leans up, takes the grip with his teeth and spits it out on the bed. His face plummets, nestling between my boobs. I smile to myself and smooth my hands through his damp hair, ignoring the voice in my head telling me not to get too contented. He breathes in deeply before pulling back and planting a soft kiss on each nipple. I’m turned around in his lap.

‘Let me. ’ He raises his knees so I’m cradled between them, my forearms resting on his knee caps.

He begins running his fingers through my hair to locate the grips, pulling them out and handing them over my shoulder for me to take.

‘How many have you got in here?’ he asks as he massages my scalp and finds another stray grip.

‘A few,’ I take the grip. ‘I have a lot of hair to keep up. ’