Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(109)

I drag my head from his chest and find his lips as he slowly circles his hips, wheedling every last bit of pleasure from us. Now, I could go to sleep right here on his wet chest.

‘Take me to bed.’ I mumble around his mouth. There is not a chance of getting out of tonight, I know this.

‘I’m ignoring you.’ he replies sternly.

I clamp my palms on his cheeks to hold him in place while I smother his face with my lips in a desperate attempt to convince him that we should stay. ‘Let me love you.’ I whisper, moving my hands to the back of his head to grasp his hair. I just want to stay.

‘Baby, don’t. I hate saying no to you. Off you get.’ He pushes me away from him so he slides out, and I grumble moodily as he lifts himself from the bath.

He hates saying no to me? Yes, only when I’m offering my body to him.

‘Wear your hair down tonight.’ he says, grabbing a towel.

I get myself out of the bath and turn the shower on. ‘I might want to wear it up.’ I retort, getting under the water to start shampooing my hair. As it happens, I am wearing it down, but I’m being insolent for the sake of it.

I yelp when his palm connects with my bum on a harsh sting. I rinse the shampoo from my hair and open my eyes to be confronted with a glowering, extremely displeased man. ‘Shut up,’ It’s that tone that dares me to object. ‘You will wear your hair down.’ He skims his lips over mine. ‘Won’t you?’

‘I will.’ I breathe.

‘I know you will.’ He removes himself from the shower. ‘You get ready in here, I’ll use another room.’

‘Not the cream room!’ I shout in a panic. ‘Don’t go in the cream room!’

‘Unravel your knickers, lady.’

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.