Beneath This Man (This Man 2)

I watch his wet beaded shoulders leave the bathroom and me to finish my shower.

Chapter 20

I’m standing in front of the floor length mirror gazing at myself, my stomach in absolute knots. My hair has been blow dried into glossy, tumbling waves, my make-up is delicate and natural, and I’m in the dress. It feels incredible, but my nerves are all over the place. I’m not sure if it’s because of where I’m going, or if it’s because I’m having an unreasonable pang of anxiety that Jesse won’t like the dress.

I turn in the mirror to see the plunging back, which seems so much more revealing than it did in the store. Will he go mad? He nearly had heart failure over a cut out panel in a summer dress.

Blowing my hair out of my face, I spray some extra deodorant. I’m roasting hot – nerves, no doubt. I put my simple white gold studs in – the lace won’t allow for anything more – and transfer my gloss and powder into my clutch with my phone. The door knocks and my heart joins my stomach in the knots department.

‘Ava? Baby, we need to go.’ he says quietly through the door. He makes no attempt to come in and that small little gesture, accompanied by his soft, unsure voice tells me he might be nervous too. Why? Normally he would barge in, no knock and no gentle coaxing.

‘Two minutes.’ I call. My voice is high and shaky as I spritz myself with my favourite Calvin Klein scent. There is no growling or impatient voice demanding I should get my arse in gear. He just leaves me to sort my nervousness out.

I take a few calming breaths, grab my clutch and roll my shoulders back. It’s no good. I’m stupidly nervous. I’ve got to face all the members of The Manor, and I’m really not looking forward to it. Those women have made it clear that I’m a gatecrasher. I can’t imagine their opinion will change just because I’m wearing a couture gown or because I’m officially Jesse’s girlfriend. Girlfriend? Well, that just sounds stupid, but what else would he call me? And he seems a bit mature to be labeled my boyfriend. It just doesn’t sound right.

Okay. I gather the bottom of my gown up a little and admire my shoes before I make my way to the bedroom door and to the top of the stairs.

As the huge open plan area comes into view, I hear the low mesmerising tones of The Moody Blues, Nights in White Satin falling over me from all of the integrated speakers. I smile to myself, and then I see him.

I halt in my tracks at the top step and try to catch my breath. It’s like seeing him for the first time all over again. He looks devastating in his black suit, crisp white shirt and black tie. He’s freshly shaved so I can see him in all of his loveliness and his hair has been persuaded to the side with some wax. Oh God, I’m going to be doing some serious trampling tonight.

He hasn’t seen me yet. He’s pacing slowly, hands in his trouser pockets, watching his feet. He’s nervous. My confident, cocky, conceited ex-playboy is nervous?

I watch in silence as he sits down, clasping his hands together, circling his thumbs briefly, before getting up and commencing pacing. I smile to myself and like he has sensed I’m nearby, his head snaps up to me and I get a full frontal impact of my stunning man in all of his glory. My breath hitches and I clasp the handrail on the stairs to steady myself.

His eyes widen a touch. ‘Oh, Jesus.’ he mouths, and I shift on my heels under his intense gaze. Our eyes lock and he starts walking slowly towards the stairs. I would start down to meet him, but my stupid legs are frozen firmly in place and no amount of mental encouragement is convincing them to move. He might need to carry me down the stairs.

He takes the steps, all the time keeping his eyes firmly set on mine, and when he reaches me, he holds his hand out on a small smile. I take a deep breath and grasp my dress, placing my hand in his and letting him lead me down the stairs, my legs more solid now that he has hold of me.

When we reach the bottom, he stops and turns to face me, running his eyes up and down my lace clad body. He takes a slow walk around to my back, and I clench my eyes shut, praying that I’ve not made a mammoth error with my brave choice of a plunged back. I hear him inhale sharply, and then his warm fingertip meeting with the nape of my neck. He trails a slow, languid path down the centre on my spine, setting off a flurry of pins and needles all over my bare flesh. He finishes at the base of my spine and then there is the unmistakable heat of his mouth on my skin as he drops a kiss on the centre of my back. I physically relax under the warmth of his lips. He would have disintegrated by now if he was going to.

He slowly makes his way back around to my front and locates my eyes. ‘I can’t find my breath.’ he murmurs, snaking his hand around my waist and pulling me into him, taking my mouth tenderly, like I’ve become as delicate as the lace encasing me.

I’m so relieved, and all knots and nerves have been chased away. All I have to worry about now are the endless women who’ll be humiliating themselves at his feet. He pulls away and pushes his hips into my lower stomach, the evidence of a raging erection clear and present. He would never make me undress – not now, surely?

‘I really like your dress.’ he says on a small smile. ‘You didn’t try this one. I would have remembered this one.’ He looks down at the dress in awe.

‘Always in lace.’ I repeat his words, and his eyes fly back up to mine.

‘You chose this dress for me?’ he asks softly.

I nod mildly as he steps back and puts his hands back in his pockets. He starts chewing that lip, the cogs whirling around as he nods knowingly…approvingly.

His eyes climb back up my body to reach mine. ‘Like I chose this for you?’ He pulls his hand from his pocket and I see a delicate, platinum layered chain hanging from his finger.