With This Man (This Man 4)

‘I wonder who from,’ Sam muses, tossing an accusing look at Kate as he wanders over to her and gets as close as her stomach will allow. He has to lean forward to get his face in hers. ‘Explain.’

‘It was a surprise back then, that’s all. I felt the need to share.’

Sam slams a hard kiss on her cheek and then lowers his lips to the top of her stomach, dropping a kiss there, too. ‘Close your ears, sunshine,’ he whispers, looking back up at Kate. She’s grinning. Sam’s not. ‘Nice to know out of everything that could have stuck in your head from that night, it’s my mate’s dick.’

I start chuckling again, perching on a stool to get comfy and enjoy the show. This party isn’t turning out too bad after all. I fold my arms over my chest and swing my eyes from Sam’s incredulous face to Kate’s dismissive one. ‘Yeah, Kate,’ I goad as John sticks his head around the door.

‘The kids have got the grandparents playing Twister. I’d prebook an ambulance if I were you.’

‘Come on.’ Ava tugs me from the stool and directs me out of the kitchen. ‘We have parents to rescue before they injure themselves.’

‘But I want to watch,’ I complain, looking over my shoulder, just catching Sam seizing Kate and swinging her back in his arms. She squeals a squeal that is definitely more delighted than scared. ‘Oh shit,’ she laughs. ‘I think I just wet myself.’

‘On second thoughts.’ I allow Ava to bully me out of the kitchen into the garden, where we find each one of our parents twisted into all kinds of mind-bending positions. I’m laughing again, harder when they all collapse in unison, creating a pile of puffing grandparents on the lawn.

‘I’m too old for this.’ My dad creaks his way up to his feet before helping Mum up, too.

I clap my hands together, marching my way across the lawn to the enticing spotty game board. ‘Move aside, folks.’ I crack my knuckles and give the twins a mischievous grin. ‘The champion’s here to defend his title.’

‘Here we go,’ Jacob sighs, booting his football away.

‘I’ve had enough,’ Maddie declares.

‘It’s my birthday.’ I crouch and pull at the corners of the mat, clearing the plastic of wrinkles before kicking off my shoes. ‘You have to do what I say.’ I flip up the collar of my Ralph Lauren polo shirt. ‘Playing, Mrs Ward?’

‘Losing, Mr Ward?’

I snort my thoughts on that. ‘I always win, baby. You should know that by now.’

Ava pulls her hair up in a ponytail, pouting her lips. ‘Things could be about to change.’

Another snort of laughter erupts from deep in my belly, backed up by the chuckles of our guests. Glad they think her statement is as hilarious as I do. ‘I’m blue,’ I announce as everyone backs up, giving us space. ‘Ava is red, Jacob is green, and Maddie is yellow. Who goes first?’

‘The youngest goes first,’ Jacob pipes up. ‘Which is me.’

‘Only by two minutes!’ Maddie protests.

I hold my hand up, halting the impending row. ‘Two minutes or two years, Jacob is the youngest.’

‘Jacob first.’ Ava moves in closer, her eyes narrowing to challenging slits. ‘Maddie’s second, me third, and you, my dear husband, at a whopping fifty, will go last.’

‘Don’t think you can distract me by taunting me,’ I warn, gesturing for Jacob to get on with things.

I focus on the game and, more importantly, winning it. John, Sam and Kate join the small crowd with Drew’s daughter, Georgia, and we all take our first move. It’s all pretty straightforward, everyone stable, and everyone confident.

Ten minutes later, I, my wife, and our babies are a tatty tangle of arms and legs, and our audience is laughing. ‘Dad!’ Maddie gripes. ‘Your big leg is in my way!’

‘Good!’ I laugh, not losing a scrap of focus.

‘This way, Maddie.’ Sam crouches beside my girl, showing her the way to the spinner.

‘No helping,’ I yell, turning my face and getting a mouthful of Ava’s hair. I catch her eye and forget my grievance. I also forget my concentration, her boobs within licking distance.

‘Don’t even think about it, Ward,’ she whispers.

‘Whenever, wherever, baby.’

‘Not while playing Twister with our kids in front of our parents.’

My arms shake a little from the strain of holding myself up. It doesn’t help that both Jacob and Maddie are leaning on me in one place or another, and Ava is virtually suspended over my torso. They’re all being tactical, picking on me, but I won’t break. No way. ‘You’re doing this on purpose,’ I accuse. I close my eyes and focus, hearing clapping and encouragement from everyone, meaning Maddie just made her move and she’s still in the game.

‘Your go, Mum,’ the twins chant.

‘Oh, if I can just stretch to reach the spinner.’ Ava’s body pushes harder into mine.

Focus, focus, focus. Something soft and squishy presses against my mouth. Something I recognise. I open my eyes and come face-to-face with boobs. I can’t help it. My mouth opens and I take a bite.

‘Owww! Jesse!’ She collapses on me, taking out the kids, too. ‘You big fat cheat!’

I laugh, rolling over and trapping Ava beneath me.

She huffs and puffs for effect for a few moments, making a pathetic effort to try to bat me away. The kids are muttering their disgust, our parents are tutting, and Kate and Sam are laughing with Georgia and John. But it’s the woman I’m spread all over that has my attention. ‘You lose,’ I whisper, planting a light peck on her nose.

Her grin is instant, and so is the swelling of my heart. ‘No, I win.’ She grabs my hair and hauls me down to her lips, and I roll her off the mat onto the grass.

‘We’re having sleepy sex tonight,’ I tell her.

‘Oh God!’ Maddie squawks. ‘Mum! Dad! Please!’

We both laugh past each other’s lips, but we don’t ease up. Not now. Not ever.

Chapter 4

It’s late. The kids are in bed, our guests have left, and I can hear Ava faffing in the kitchen. I wander through, stopping at the door to admire her for a few moments. She’s getting the coffee machine loaded ready to flick on in the morning, something she does before bed most nights, as well as setting the kids’ favourite breakfast cereals on the island. I wait until she’s done and is rubbing cream into her hands before I quietly creep up behind her. I’m virtually silent, but she doesn’t need to hear me to know I’m close. Her spine straightens, her hands pausing in their movements.

I push my front to her back and drop my mouth to her ear. ‘Get in the bedroom now,’ I order, quiet but stern.

She turns slowly, rubbing against me, the friction sending my body temperature through the roof. I scoop her up and cradle her in my arms, taking her mouth as I walk us to our room. She hums against my lips. I hum against hers. Fucking heaven.

Our lips don’t part the entire way to the bedroom, and it’s a challenge to give up our kiss when I make it to the bed. Dropping her down, I pull my T-shirt up over my head and throw it aside. Ava’s teeth sink into her bottom lip, her gaze hungry.

‘Like what you see?’ I ask, confident of the answer. Call me an egomaniac. I couldn’t give a fuck. I push my jeans down my thighs with my boxers, waiting for an answer. She’s daydreaming. ‘Hey.’ I click my fingers, snapping her out of it. ‘Well?’

The tiniest of frowns mars her brow. ‘What did you say?’

I smile. Her question is a good enough answer for me. ‘I like your dress.’ I reach forward and tug at the silky black fabric, smiling when I hear her pull in a breath. ‘But it’s a bit restrictive.’

‘Take it off,’ she demands, full of impatience. Her hunger for me only intensifies my hunger for her. But I still toy with her desperation. ‘What do you say?’

I see the need to fight me in her eyes, but my wife learned fast that giving me wh

at I want gets her what she wants much quicker. ‘Please.’ Her plea is more than a plea. It’s a fucking turn-on like no other. Her dress is gone in the space of a few short breaths. Her underwear even faster. Resting a fist on the mattress, I crawl up the length of her body, licking my way up her inside thigh, growling under my breath when I pass her sweet, soft, dripping pussy. Her groan stretches out for ever, her spine arching, pushing her breasts upward. I circle her left nipple with a firm, slow lick. Fuck, she tastes good.

She sighs, her hands going to my head and wrestling with my hair. ‘You’re a fucking god, Ward.’

I bite down on her nipple in warning, but otherwise let her potty mouth pass, as I walk my fingers across her stomach and plunge them deep inside her core. ‘Oh, you’re so fucking ready,’ I say as she cries out. I withdraw and settle myself atop of her, grabbing my aching cock and levelling it up. ‘Hard or soft, baby?’

‘Soft,’ she sighs, all breathily and happily, her palms resting on my hips and pulling me down.

I sink in slowly, struggling to catch my breath as the pleasure ripples through me. ‘Like that?’ I ask, hitting her deep.

‘Just like that.’

I withdraw, the feel of her walls stroking me forcing me to my forearms. ‘We are so fucking good together, lady.’

‘I know,’ she agrees, sinking her nails into my arse.

Her gaze finds mine, and I know that’s exactly where it’ll stay until I bring her to climax and she’s forced to close her eyes. It’s one of my favourite views. The passion and need on her face, her light pants heating my skin. It’s debilitating.

This woman has me captivated every day of our lives together. Not just when I have her in my arms, or when I’m buried deep inside her. But with everything she does. Every time she looks at me, speaks to me, touches me. I’m the luckiest man alive, and I thank the Fates every minute of every day. I love her with a fierceness that gets stronger by the second.

‘I love you, too,’ she whispers, reading my mind. ‘And I’m lucky, too.’ Her hands move from my arse and come up to my face, her thighs wrapping around my waist. She holds my cheeks firmly as I maintain a careful, slow pace of my hips, rocking into her gently. ‘You are my life, Jesse Ward. You keep my heart beating.’

I smile a small smile, nodding my understanding, keeping our eyes locked as I catch her lips. Our kiss mirrors the delicacy of our lovemaking until I slow it to nothing and our lips are simply touching. ‘And my heart will only ever beat for you,’ I whisper, balancing on the edge of explosion. ‘Are you there?’

‘I’m there.’ Her face glowing up at me confirms it, and I thrust a fraction harder a few more times, carrying us over the edge together.

My body soaks up her trembles, the tremors going straight to my heart. It fills with feelings so strong I once again find myself trying to wrap my mind around the reality of our beautiful existence. I don’t think I ever will.

We gasp into each other’s faces, a million silent words of wonder bouncing back and forth between us. Neither of us needs to speak those words. We both know. I take her left hand from my cheek and kiss her wedding ring and then weave our fingers together, squeezing tightly and resting my face in her damp neck.

‘Was it good for you?’ I ask.

‘Ish . . .’ she sighs, and I smile against her throat, kissing lazily, small pecks here and there. ‘Tub-time?’ she asks softly.

I hold still for a moment, thinking. Tub-time?

‘I can hear those cogs kicking in.’ She laughs a little. She’s right. Tub-time equals tub-talk. What does she want to talk about?

I pull my face from her throat and lift a questioning eyebrow. ‘Is there something you want to tell me?’ My wife knows I’m at my weakest when she’s naked, wet, and spread all over me.

‘No, I just thought it would be nice to have a soak together.’

Ava’s wet nakedness slipping all over mine? I slip free from her tight warmth on a small hiss, my cock still twitching from the aftermath of my climax. ‘Bubbles?’

‘Lots.’

‘Whatever my lady wants.’ I shoot up off the bed and head to the bathroom, flipping on the taps and pouring in a huge dose of bubble bath before swishing the water around. It seems to take fucking ages for the water to reach halfway up the side, and when I’m happy with the depth, I jump in, wafting the bubbles upward. ‘Ready!’ I call.

Within a few seconds, I hear Ava laughing. ‘Where are you?’

I flap my hands, clearing some of the bubbles in front of my face, and grin when I find her standing by the door. ‘Your god awaits.’ I offer my hand, and she wanders over, still laughing, making a point of blowing some more bubbles from my nose as she lowers in front of me. I sigh a very fucking contented sigh as she settles between my thighs, my arms and lower legs wrapping her up tightly, my eyes closing in pure peace. The sensation of her palms stroking over the hairs on my legs is hypnotic. Utter fucking bliss.

It’s silent for a few moments, gloriously silent and peaceful. Until Ava breaks it. ‘Jesse?’

‘Hmmmm.’

‘About my boobs . . .’

My eyes flip open. I fucking knew it. Wants to soak with me in the bath? I scoff. ‘You mean the perfect boobs that your husband loves just the way they are? Those boobs?’ I can’t see her, but I know she’ll have just pulled off an eye-roll worthy of an award.

‘Yes, those boobs.’

‘Forget it.’ I feel her shift under my hold. So I hold her tighter.

‘Let me see you.’

‘No.’

‘Jesse.’ Water starts to splash around us until I’m forced to release her or risk flooding the bathroom.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ I breathe as she spins over, resting a palm on each of my pecs and bringing her front down to mine. The tips of our noses meet. I’m not going over this again. No way. Those boobs are fucking perfect. And, more to the point, they’re mine. I nod my head to myself, determined to stand my ground, no matter how much she begs and no matter what she promises me. ‘No,’ I say firmly. ‘Not even for a million jars of Sun-Pat and two million Apology Fucks. No.’

‘But I hate them,’ she whines, pushing out her bottom lip. I reach down and sink my teeth into it. ‘Ouch!’

‘The answer will always be no.’

She wrenches herself free of my bite, hissing in pain as she does. Call me unreasonable, but it can’t hurt as much as what she’s suggesting. ‘Just listen.’

My hands sacrifice her arse to cover my ears. ‘Definitely not.’

‘Jesse.’

I close my eyes. ‘I’m not listening.’ I feel her lift from my body, obviously accepting that she’s going to get nowhere. Good. I hope she’s thinking about how unreasonable she’s being. A boob job? I scoff to myself in my darkness. She’s got more chance of me divorcing her.

When I’ve heard no sounds for a good few minutes, I assume she’s given up and the coast is clear, so I gingerly open one eye to check I’m alone. I’m not. I’d snap my eyes closed again, but something in her hand just caught my eye. The shower hose? She’s pulled it from the cubicle and has it pointed at me in the bath. I frown, suddenly noticing the water has drained from the tub. No! I try to get up quickly, slipping and sliding over the remaining bubbles coating the enamel of the bath. ‘Ava!’ I’m hit with water. Freezing fucking cold shards of torture. ‘Fuck!’ I lose my footing and crash to the bottom on the tub. ‘Ava, for fuck’s sake!’

‘Say you’ll listen to me,’ she demands, moving in as far as the length of hose on the showerhead will allow, which is pretty fucking close.

My whole body goes into shock, leaving me at my evil wife’s mercy. ‘Th-ree . . .’ I chatter, wondering what I can do when I get to zero. I don’t know, but it’ll be bad. So fucking bad. ‘T-t-two . . .’ I start to shake like a twat, unable to escape. Jesus, I feel like hypothermia is setting in. ‘A

va!’

‘Will you listen?’

I can’t even bring myself to get to zero. I’m too fucking cold. ‘Okay! For fuck’s sake, okay!’ The water shuts down in an instant, and I scramble from the bath and flop to my back on the floor, shivering. ‘Get me a towel, you evil witch.’ A soft bundle of cotton lands on my face, and I make quick work of scrubbing at my body. ‘Why would you do that?’ I snap, incensed. ‘If my legs weren’t frozen solid, you’d be getting the ultimate of all Retribution Fucks right now.’

‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she snipes, putting the hose back in the shower. Then she wanders over to me, until she has one foot on either side of my chest. She lowers and plants her arse on my stomach, her hands on my pecs, and starts rubbing over my goose-bumped skin. ‘Let me warm you up.’

‘How kind.’ I need an oven, a quick ten minutes at 180 degrees. I’m cold to the bone.

‘The surgeon said that a little—’

I choke on nothing. ‘You’ve seen a surgeon already?’ Please, God, tell me it wasn’t a man.

‘You said you’d listen.’

‘And I fucking hate what I’m hearing, Ava.’ I push her off me and get to my feet, stomping away. ‘I can’t even look at you.’ I head for the dressing room, where I rip down a clean T-shirt from a hanger. I don’t know why; I always sleep naked, but I need something to do with my hands or I’m likely to strangle her beautiful neck. ‘If it was a bloke, don’t tell me.’ I could throw up.

‘Okay.’

I swing around, outraged. ‘So it was a bloke you flashed my boobs to?’

She shrugs. ‘You just told me not to tell you.’

‘But you just bloody did! What the fuck, Ava?’ I pull my T-shirt over my head and wrestle my arms through the sleeves, getting myself all caught up. ‘Fuck!’

‘It’s just a boob job.’

I stop trying to get my T-shirt on, leaving me with my arms all bent and trapped somewhere around my neck area. Ava’s fighting to hold back her smirk. ‘Just get a knife and kill me, because it’ll hurt a lot fucking less than what you’re suggesting.’ I realise my stupidity the moment the words have left my mouth. Ava’s hint of a grin vanishes, and she recoils, her watery eyes dropping to my torso where two hefty scars mar my skin. I curse my idiotic arse to hell and back a thousand times over as I calmly untangle my arms and pull my T-shirt down my body, hiding my scars from my wife’s sad eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ I breathe, feeling nothing short of awful. Our story is epic, but I would rather it be missing that particular part.