This Man Confessed (Page 58)
He sits down on the floor in front of me, his towel gaping open and revealing… everything. ‘Move me.’ He’s fighting a smug grin from his lush lips.
‘I’ll use another bathroom.’ I retort haughtily as I sidestep him to exit the bathroom.
I yelp as my ankle is grasped and I’m suddenly trying to pull a dead weight to escape. ‘Jesse!’ I tug my leg, but it’s completely hopeless. I turn to find him lying on his stomach, now with both palms wrapped around my one ankle. He’s looking up at me with adorable, shimmering eyes, and he’s pouting. ‘Humour me, baby. Please.’ He actually bats his long lashes at me.
I try my hardest to restrain my smile, but when he’s looking at me like this, it’s just impossible. ‘Can you at least turn around?’
‘No,’ He jumps up and whips his towel off, his beauty hitting me like a sledgehammer. ‘Does this make you feel better?’ He holds his arms to the sides, and I can’t stop my appreciative gaze dragging down his solid loveliness.
I sigh happily. ‘No, that just distracts me.’ I muse, continuing to drink him in, all of the way down before casually and slowly back up again—all of him. Every wondrous, magnificent, sickeningly perfect inch of him. I reach his face. His eyes have smoked out, and I know mine have, too. ‘You wield that physique unfairly.’
‘Of course I do. It’s one of my best assets.’ He reaches forward and yanks my towel off. ‘It comes a close second to this one.’ His eyes leisurely skate down my nakedness, and he sighs to himself. ‘Just perfect.’
‘You won’t say that when I’m fat and swollen.’ I grumble, suddenly realising that I will, in fact, get fat and swollen. ‘And if you say there will be more of me to love, then I might divorce you.’ I snatch the towel up and re-wrap myself, ignoring his obvious annoyance.
‘Don’t say the word divorce.’ he threatens, taking my hand and leading me to the toilet. ‘If it makes you feel better, I’ll eat for two, too.’ He’s looking down at me with a smirk.
‘Promise you won’t leave me when I’m unable to reach your c**k with my mouth because my belly is in the way.’
He throws his head back on a laugh. ‘I promise, baby.’ I’m turned around and positioned in front of the toilet. ‘Now, let’s pee on some sticks.’
I hitch up my towel and reluctantly lower myself to the toilet, while Jesse crouches in front of me. ‘Do you want to stick your hand in the loo again?’ I grin as I watch his lips twitch at the memory of me sitting on his arm in the hospital. ‘I could mark you officially.’
He’s trying his hardest, but failing miserably. He collapses onto his arse and laughs. It makes me feel so much better. While my hysterical husband rolls around on the floor, I hold the stick between my thighs and release my bladder. ‘Ava, baby, I love you so f**king much.’ He pulls himself up and kneels again, resting his palms on my thighs, and leans up to kiss me hard on the lips… while I’m peeing on a stick.
‘There.’ I pull my hand out and hand him the test, and he takes it, immediately giving me another. ‘What?’ I ask, frowning at the new stick.
‘I told you, sometimes they don’t work. Quick.’ He thrusts it forward.
My head rolls back in complete exasperation, but I take the stupid stick and repeat the same routine, only to finish and have another one shoved at me. ‘Jesse, come on!’
‘One more.’ He removes the lid.
‘For God’s sake.’ I snatch it on a scowl and shove it between my thighs. ‘That’s it!’ I drain the rest of my bladder, making sure it’s completely empty so I physically can’t pee on any more sticks. ‘There.’ I yank some tissue from the roll and sort myself out while he takes all three tests to the unit and places them neatly in a row.
Despite my irritation, I can’t help smiling as I watch him standing there, naked and bent slightly, bracing his hands on his knees and getting his face up close and personal with the tests.
‘Are you okay there?’ I ask, joining him and copying his position in front of the unit. ‘I think they’re broken. We should do some more.’ He makes to shift, but I grab his arm.
‘It’s been thirty seconds.’ I laugh, ‘Here, wash your hands.’ I take his hands and hold them under the tap while he keeps his eyes on the test, not paying a bit of attention to what I’m doing.
‘It’s been longer than that.’ he scoffs. ‘Much longer.’
‘No it hasn’t. Stop being neurotic.’ I resume knee brace in front of the unit, as does he.
Glancing out the corner of my eye, I meet his sideway glance, my lips curving at the corner. He raises defensive eyebrows at me. ‘I’m not neurotic.’
‘Of course you’re not.’ I tease.
‘Are you taking the piss out of me, lady?’
‘Not at all, My Lord.’
The silence falls again, and we both remain motionless, braced and waiting—waiting for the confirmation of what I already know. And then some faint letters start to appear on the first test, and I find myself holding my breath. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because I’m mimicking my challenging man, who’s suddenly gone rigid next to me. Time seems to slow slightly as the letters form and we both stare in silence. My heart picks up pace as my eyes drift over to the next test and find the slow development of the same letters. My heart is now trying to break free from my chest and our heads inch to the left a little to watch as the very same letters appear on the third and final test. It’s only now I realise that I’m still holding my breath, and I let it gush from my mouth as I sense Jesse next to me twitching. I turn my face to his, feeling completely overwhelmed with emotion. His head turns, too, until he’s facing me. We’re still bent over the unit, we’re still both bracing our arms of our knees and we’re both completely expressionless.