This Man Confessed (This Man 3)

‘Too good. I knew I married you for a reason.’

I bite into his flesh lightly, warningly. ‘All the way?’

‘Do it,’

I wrap my lips around him and glide all the way down, until he hits the back of my throat. He groans loudly, his groin pushing up. I try to relax my mouth, try to accept the invasion, but my gag reflex fails me and I’m suddenly retching.

What the hell?

I drop him fast and leap up from the bed, my stomach convulsing, a sweat breaking out across my brow. I’m going to throw up. I fly into the bathroom and collapse in front of the toilet, then proceed to evacuate the contents of my stomach, trying to hold my hair out of my face while aiming right.

‘Ava!’ he bellows. The sound of the cuffs start clanging loudly. ‘Ava!’

‘I’m…’ I throw up again, choking as I try to talk, try to assure him that I’m fine. Shit, I need to release him.

‘Jesus, Ava!’ The persistent clattering of metal on wood rings out through the suite, accompanied by Jesse’s panicked yells. ‘Fucking hell, AVA!’

I can’t talk. My throat is blocked, my eyes are watering and my stomach is aching from turning so much. What the hell is wrong with me? I’d hardly started. I’ve taken him endlessly like that and it’s never had this effect. Shit, I feel queasy. I grab some toilet tissue and dab at my forehead. I really need to get a grip and get my arse back in there to release him before he has heart failure.

‘Ava!’ There’s an almighty crash, and then he steams into the bathroom, shirt open, trousers undone, and a look of pure dread on his face.

I try to wave an arm at him, anything to reassure him that I’m okay, but I’m quickly grasping the side of the toilet again, bracing my arms as I continue to gag and choke.

‘Jesus, baby.’ He sounds so worried, the neurotic fool. I’m only being sick. I feel him close in behind me and gather my tresses, holding them and rubbing my back.

‘I’m fine.’ I wipe my face and rub my palms over my cheeks when I know I can’t possibly throw up anymore.

‘Clearly.’ he mutters dryly. ‘Let me look at you.’

I shuffle around on a sigh. ‘Still want to f**k me?’ I ask in attempt to soothe his obvious worry.

He rolls his eyes, ‘Ava, please.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Lady, you’ll kill me off, I swear.’ He pushes my hair from my face. ‘You okay?’

‘No, I feel sick.’ I collapse forward, my cheek colliding with his bare chest where his shirt is open.

‘Why do you think that is?’ he asks quietly.

I stiffen. I’m really not ready to deal with it yet. I’m not ready to rip him to shreds for hiding my pills. I haven’t got the energy right now, so I keep my mouth shut, but I need to take my head out of the sand and face reality—the reality that I’m most certainly pregnant. ‘Take me to bed, please.’

I hear him exhale deeply. It’s an obvious demonstration of frustration. I won’t be allowed to live in denial for much longer, but his need to care for me at the moment is getting me off the hook. He stands and pulls me up. ‘You are the most frustrating woman on the f**king planet. You want to brush your teeth?’

‘Please.’

He smiles down at me and brushes his knuckles across my cheek. ‘Everything will be fine.’

Will it? Fine for him. He gets what he wants, although why he wants it is a f**king mystery. ‘Okay.’ I agree feebly, catching a glimpse of a hanging handcuff from his wrist… and a huge red blister. ‘Jesse! What have you done?’ I grab his hand and turn it over, discovering the inner side on his wrist displaying a mass of angry red welts. I suck in a shocked breath. Shit, that looks sore.

He pulls his wrist from my grip and removes the cuffs, throwing them to the floor. ‘You keep my heart beating, baby, but you can also make it f**king stop.’ He shakes his head and lifts me onto the counter. ‘You said you couldn’t live without me, didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’

He narrows accusing eyes on me. ‘Then stop trying to kill me off.’

I feel a grin surfacing. ‘You’re such a drama queen.’

‘There is nothing dramatic about being worried when my wife throws up after I’ve just thrust my c**k in her mouth.’

I burst into laughter. My head falls back, my eyes close and I laugh. Really hard. I have tears and all. I can’t stop, and he lets me have my moment, waiting patiently with my toothbrush hovering in front of my mouth. ‘I’m sorry!’ I chuckle. ‘I’m really sorry.’ I wipe my eyes and home straight in on a pair of curious greens, a raised brow and a chewed lip. ‘It is quite funny, though.’

‘I’m glad you find it amusing. Open your mouth.’

I let my jaw drop open and he sets about brushing my teeth for me. When he’s done, he runs a cool wash cloth over my brow before scooping me up and transporting me to the bed. My eyes widen when I clock the headboard. It’s mangled, with strips of wood all splintered and hanging off.

‘In you get.’ He places me on the edge, and I waste no time crawling up and snuggling down, letting out a long, contented sigh.

I turn over and watch him undress, my greedy gaze drinking in his perfection. ‘I can’t believe I’m spending my first night as your wife in one of your torture chambers.’ The unpleasant thought has me shifting slightly and wondering who has been in this bed and what has gone down. Suddenly I want to get out.

‘No one has slept in this bed, Ava.’ He knows what I’m thinking.