This Man Confessed (This Man 3)

I don’t try to reclaim it. I don’t want it.

* * *

‘Ava, baby, wake up.’

I open my eyes and stretch, my hands hitting the ceiling above me. Confused, I look up and see the roof of a car. Then my sleepy eyes fall to the side and come face to face with my lovely control freak. He’s smiling brightly at me. ‘Where are we?’ I rub my eyes.

‘Cornwall,’ he replies quickly.

My waking brain quickly registers that I need a wee. ‘Stop it.’ I snap. I’m a little grizzly, too. ‘I need a wee.’ I shift in my seat and clasp the handle to get out, catching the first glimpse of our surroundings. I recognise it. The low wall circling the small graveyard, the little hut you can walk through to take the winding path down to the beach and the mixture of sand and leaves that gather in the gutter. It’s all familiar. Too familiar.

I swing to face him. ‘You weren’t kidding!’ I double check, but the line of hanging wetsuits in the garden across the road only confirm my fears. ‘You’re dumping me on my mum?’ I sound hurt. I am hurt. Perhaps he can’t cope with his ridiculous over-protectiveness either and has come to the conclusion that my parents looking after me throughout this pregnancy will probably prevent the heart attack that he’s bound to have. It might also save our marriage because I can see quite a few months of controlling on his part and defiance on mine, that is until I’m too fat to retaliate. I’m going to be like a whale. Huge. Enormous. Fat and pregnant and really un-sexy. I could cry.

I feel his hand slide across my neck and grasp my nape, turning my face towards his. ‘Don’t threaten me with Cornwall.’ He’s grinning. And I start crying, like a stupid, hormonal pregnant woman. Through my unreasonable tears, I see his grin vanish and a look of anxiousness replace it. ‘Baby, I’m joking. Anyone would have to slice their way through me to get to you. You know that.’ He pulls me over onto his lap, and I burrow into his neck, sobbing stupidly. I’m being completely unreasonable, I know that. He would never leave me. What’s the matter with me? ‘Ava, look at me.’

I sniffle into him and reluctantly pull my head up so he can see my tear stained mess of a face. ‘I’m going to be so fat. Massive! Twins, Jesse!’ My smugness from the hospital has long gone. All of the thoughts of torturing him with screaming babies and mood swings have just diminished. I’m going to be stretched to within an inch of my life. I’m twenty six. I don’t want saggy bits and stretch marks. I’ll never pull off lace again. ‘You won’t…’ I can’t think it, let alone say it.

‘Desire you.’ He finishes for me. He knows.

I nod my head a little, feeling guilty for being so selfish, but that look in his eyes when he has me in his arms, or anytime he looks at me, in fact, I don’t know what I’d do if I never had it again. I need it. It’s a massive part of our relationship. ‘Yes,’ I’ve got to be honest. It’s a fear, along with all of the others that accompany this pregnancy.

He smiles a little and places his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing gentle circles. ‘Baby, that will never happen.’

‘You don’t know that. You don’t know how you’ll feel when I’ve got swollen ankles and I’m walking like I’ve got a melon wedged between my thighs.’

He laughs, really hard. ‘Is that how it’ll be?’

‘Probably,’

‘Let me tell you, lady. I desire you more with every day that passes, and I believe you’ve been carrying my babies for quite a few weeks.’ He gives my tummy a little rub with his spare hand.

‘I’m not fat yet.’ I mutter.

‘You’re not going to be fat, Ava. You’re pregnant, and let me tell you, the thought of you keeping a piece of me and you warm and safe makes me f**king deliriously happy, and…’ He slowly thrusts his hips upwards. He’s solid. ‘It makes me desire you even f**king more. Now, shut up and kiss me, wife.’

I give him a cynical look, and he gives he an expectant one, delivering another thrust upwards. It catches me perfectly, and I practically dive on him. I decide right here in this moment that I’m not going to let it happen. I shall be doing those pelvic floor things until I’m blue in the face. I’ll be running, too, and wearing lace when I’m in labour.

‘Hmmm, there’s my girl,’ he hums when I let him up for air. ‘Shit, Ava, I would love to rip those lace knickers off and f**k you stupid right now, but I don’t want an audience.’

‘I don’t care.’ I assault him again, raiding his mouth with my tongue and pulling at his hair viciously. He just said he’d love to f**k me. I don’t care where we are.

‘Ava,’ He struggles against me on a laugh. ‘Cut it out or I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

‘I won’t hold you responsible.’ I don’t give up. I’m pulling at his t-shirt, grinding myself down on his erection.

‘Fucking hell, woman.’ he groans.

I’ve nearly got him, but then there’s a hard rapping on the window right next to my head, and I pull back on gasp, quickly gathering my near on unquenchable lust. We look at each other for a few seconds, both of us panting, and then slowly turn our heads in unison towards the window.

There’s a policeman. And he doesn’t look very happy. I’m quickly shifted from Jesse’s lap and placed on my seat, where I smooth my hair down and blush a million shades of red. Jesse grins that roguish grin as he watches me sort myself out. ‘That’ll teach you.’ He lets his window down and turns his attention to the copper. ‘Sorry about that. Pregnant. Hormones. Can’t keep her hands off me.’ He’s supressing a laugh, and I gasp, smacking his thigh. He chuckles, grabbing my hand and squeezing. ‘See?’