This Man Confessed (This Man 3)

‘I obsess about you. I also devour you daily. But I can’t call our baby a defiant little temptress.’

‘No, that would be wrong. But you could call it baby.’ It’s me who’s grinning now.

He jumps up and straddles my hips, pinning my wrists down, but still not resting himself on my stomach. ‘Let me call our baby peanut.’

‘Never.’

‘Sense f**k?’

‘Yes please.’ I reply way too hopefully, my grin widening.

He laughs and kisses me chastely. ‘Pregnancy’s making you a monster. Come on. My wife and peanut must be hungry.’

‘Your wife and baby are very hungry.’

His greens twinkle and he pulls me up from the bed, dressing me first before he pulls his own boxers, trousers and shirt on. I step into his chest and remove his hands from his collar, taking over the fastening of his buttons while he watches me quietly. Reaching around his back to tuck his shirt into his trousers, my cheek rests on his chest as I take my time making him look presentable. ‘Belt?’ I ask, as I pull away from him. He stoops down and retrieves it from the floor, handing it to me on an amused smile. I take it, returning his smile, and start feeding it through the loops of his trousers and buckling it up. ‘You’re done.’

‘No I’m not.’ He nods at his shoes. ‘If you’re going to do a job, do it properly.’

I ignore his insolence, instead pushing him down so he’s sitting on the end of the bed. I kneel in front of him, resting my bum on my heels and start putting his socks on for him. ‘Is this okay for you, Lord?’ I yank at a few of the dark blonde hairs at the bottom of his shins.

He jerks. ‘Fuck!’ he reaches down and rubs his shin. ‘There was no need for that.’

‘Don’t be cheeky.’ I retort dryly, placing his shoes at his feet before pushing myself up.

He slips his feet in and stands, grabbing his jacket and stuffing his tie in the pocket, all the time frowning at me. ‘You really are a monster.’

I smile sweetly, prompting his frown to iron out and his lips to twitch. ‘Ready?’ I ask.

He shakes his head and takes my hand, leading me from our room and down to the bar. I’m placed on my usual stool, and Mario is with is in a heartbeat.

‘Mrs Ward!’ His cheerful accented voice draws the usual response from me.

I smile. ‘Mario, it’s Ava.’ I scorn him lightly. ‘How are you?’

‘Ah!’ He flips a bar towel over his shoulder and leans forward. ‘I’m very well. What would you like?’

‘Two waters,’ Jesse interjects swiftly. ‘Just two waters please, Mario.’

I flip critical eyes straight to my husband, who has sat himself on the stool next to me. ‘I might like some wine with my dinner.’

He’s not at all perturbed by my reproachful glare. In fact, he doesn’t even look at me. ‘You might, but you’re not having any. Two waters, Mario.’ This time he’s not asking his head barman, he’s ordering, and judging by Mario’s wary eyes that are flicking between us, he’s not going to offer me a choice again. He scoots straight off to the row of fridges lining the back of the bar, while I glare at Jesse, but he still refuses to face me, instead signalling Pete over. ‘Two steaks, Pete. One medium, one well done. No blood, whatsoever.’

The confusion in Pete’s face is obvious, and the disbelieving look on mine must be clear, too. ‘Urhh… yes, Mr Ward. Salad and new potatoes?’ Pete asks. His puzzled eyes have drifted across to my dumbstruck face, I can feel them on me, but I’m too busy staring at my impossible husband to acknowledge him.

‘Yes, just make sure one steak is thoroughly cooked.’ Jesse accepts the bottled water from Mario and starts pouring mine into a glass. ‘Is there egg in that salad dressing?’

I actually choke on a cough, not that it makes a bit of difference. He’s just looking at Pete with an expectant raised brow. Poor Pete has no idea what’s going on. ‘I’m not sure. Should I check?’

‘Yes, if there is, leave the salad with the well-cooked steak un-dressed.’

‘Okay, Mr Ward.’

Mario backs away, as does Pete, and we’re alone at the bar, me in a stunned silence and Jesse busying himself with water pouring duties to avoid facing his astonished wife. He knows that I’m gawking at him, he damn well knows it.

I turn myself back to the bar, all calm and unruffled, but I’m quietly raging. He just can’t help himself. ‘If you don’t go to that kitchen, change my order and get me a glass of wine, then I’m one step closer to moving in with my parents for the rest of this pregnancy.’ I know he’s looking at me now. I can feel his shocked greens burning a hole in my profile. I take my glass of water and slowly turn my face to his. ‘You are not trampling my diet, Ward.’

‘You’ve already got yourself pissed while you were pregnant.’ he spits quietly. He’s not happy, but neither am I.

‘I was mad with you.’ I still sound calm, but now I feel guilty, too.

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘So you thought you would take it out on my baby?’

I soak up the resentment pouring from him. ‘You keep saying my baby. It’s ours.’

‘That’s what I meant!’

‘You’re not worried about me, then? It’s not my safety anymore?’ I watch him carefully, weighing up his reaction to my words.

I’ve shocked him because he’s not coming back with a counter attack. He’s just severely chomping on that bottom lip, his mind’s cogs racing at a million miles per hour. He finally sags, swinging away from me on his stool, his hands diving straight into his messy array of dark blonde. ‘Fucking hell,’ he curses quietly. ‘Fucking, f**k, f**k, f**k!’