With This Man, Page 32

  Right on cue, we hear the sleepy call of Jacob from the kitchen.

  ‘They’re snogging in the utility room,’ Maddie informs him tiredly. ‘Looks like we’re back to normal.’

  Back to normal. Not quite. But knowing the kids get reassurance from seeing me and Ava up to our old tricks does something sweet to me. Is it that simple for them? Just to have their mum and dad here together, loving each other, being their normal selves, even if we’re not? I was starting to feel guilty about sending them away. Now, I’m more sure than ever that I did the right thing by them. Those first few days after I brought Ava home were hell. The emotions, the screaming, the distress. I wouldn’t want them to see their mum so lost and their dad so hopeless. That time with us alone was precious. It was needed. For Ava to discover who I am and what I stand for, and for her to accept it. And she does. Thankfully, she does.

  I’m pulled from my thoughts by a gentle tap on my shoulder and I breathe in, looking into the eyes that have ruled me from day one. I spend a few moments rearranging her dark waves over her shoulders before picking her up off the counter and setting her on her feet. ‘You are relieved of duty.’ I swat her arse and send her on her way, her coy look over her shoulder doing nothing to help the situation behind my shorts. I flash her a warning look, but she just grins in the way she does. As soon as she’s gone, I give the washing machine a good whack, and nod, satisfied, when I hear water rushing into the drum.

  ‘Morning, Mum,’ I hear Jacob chime when Ava enters the kitchen, me following behind. He’s scanning the boxes of cereal on the island, all six of them. Ava must have got every type we have from the pantry, covering all angles, I guess. ‘Where’s my favourite?’ he asks.

  All angles, except Jacob’s favourite. Ava’s face falls, along with my heart, and Maddie gives her brother a quick kick in the shin. ‘Stupid,’ she snipes.

  I die a little on the inside when Ava looks across at me, her eyes watering. ‘It’s nothing.’ I shoot to the cupboard and snatch down Jacob’s Pop-Tarts, quickly shoving two in the toaster. ‘See? Done.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’ My boy’s face is so remorseful, and I’m torn between comforting him or going to Ava. My decision is made for me when Ava hastily escapes the kitchen. My shoulders drop, and I look to the kids as they watch their mum rush away, her hands wiping at her face. Fucking hell. After a quick, reassuring rub of their heads, I go after Ava, finding her in the downstairs bathroom snatching tissue from the roll.

  ‘Ava, baby.’ I step in and close the door behind me. ‘It’s no big deal.’ My heart cracks clean in two when she turns to face me, her bottom lip quivering, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  ‘I don’t even know what my son’s favourite breakfast is.’ Her voice cracks and her chin drops. ‘What kind of mother am I?’

  That right there sends me into the realms of crazy mad before I can stop it, my hand reaching forward and snatching away the tissue that’s on its way to her face. ‘You stop that now,’ I order, more harshly than I meant. Her wide eyes watch me warily, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. Crowding her, I grab her face and push my forehead to hers, drilling into her with pissed-off eyes. ‘Never, ever, doubt your abilities as a mother, do you hear me?’ She nods. ‘Good.’ I push my lips to hers and kiss her hard. ‘Now wipe those eyes and get your arse back in that kitchen.’

  ‘Okay.’ She doesn’t argue or protest, sniffing back her emotion and pulling herself together. ‘Can I have the tissue back?’

  ‘No.’ I take my thumbs and drag them across her cheeks, clearing up the evidence of her tears. ‘Off you go.’ Turning her by her shoulders, I walk her back to the kitchen, only releasing her after I’ve squeezed a little reassurance into her with a flex of my hands.

  She nods in understanding and goes to the cupboard to get a plate for Jacob, taking his Pop-Tarts from the toaster and sliding them across the island to him. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ He bites his lip, flicking his eyes to me nervously.

  ‘What?’ Ava asks, looking to me, too.

  ‘Nothing.’ I scoot over to the fridge and grab the peanut butter, handing it to Jacob, who proceeds to smother it over his Pop-Tarts.

  ‘Oh.’ Ava’s shoulders sag as she watches, a grimace growing across her face. ‘Of course he smothers his breakfast in peanut butter.’

  ‘You’re disgusting,’ Maddie snorts as she leaves the kitchen. ‘I’m going to get showered.’

  ‘And I’m going to make lunchboxes.’ Ava swirls around and scans the cupboards.

  ‘Top left,’ I remind her, going about finishing the coffee I started. When I’m done, I take a seat next to my boy and open my mouth for him to share, smiling as he pushes the last bit of his breakfast into my mouth. ‘Go get a shower,’ I tell him, and he’s off quickly, leaving me and Ava alone in the kitchen.

  I look across to my wife, thoughtful as I devour the jar of peanut butter. I’ve been so transfixed on all the major things she needs to learn that the simple things, such as the kids’ favourite breakfast, never crossed my mind as something to get upset about. So trivial. Yet so eye-opening. One minute I’m high on hope, feeling the love and feelings pouring out of my wife, the next I’m being brought back down to earth by something stupid like Pop-Tarts. But, as I keep reminding myself, this is a marathon. Not a sprint.

  I take a sip of my coffee as I watch Ava standing before the open fridge. She’s still. Staring ahead. I frown and set my mug down, watching her shoulders begin to jump up and down discreetly. Concerned, I get up and go to her, turning her around until I have her face. Tears are gushing from her eyes, streaking down her cheeks and splashing her T-shirt. ‘I don’t know what they like in their lunchboxes, either,’ she sobs, each word a helpless croak.

  ‘Hey.’ I lower my face to hers, nuzzling, coating my cheeks in her tears, too. We’re in this together, stress, love, despair . . . and tears. Even if I’m not crying them, they’re mine, too. I don’t get the chance to pick her up; she grabs me first, throwing her arms around my neck and practically crawling up my front. What can I do? There’s no easy fix. It’s just a matter of time and that fucking thing called patience.

  I carry her to a stool and get her comfortable on my lap, her legs straddling me, her face hiding in my chest, her tears soaking into my skin. With my face in her hair, I sigh, cuddling her close. Just giving her the time she needs to get this out of her system. It’s just another part of this excruciating process. One more bump in this rocky road. How many more bumps, knock-backs, and cries are to come is daunting. But I need to be strong.

  The man she married.

  ‘Maddie loves Marmite in her sandwiches,’ I say into her hair. ‘And Jacob likes—’

  ‘Peanut butter,’ she sniffles, dragging her heavy head up until she has my eyes.

  I smile, taking her hands and holding them between our chests. ‘I’m with you all the way, baby. High and lows, good and bad, I’m here by your side. To help you, to wipe your tears, to love you. I love you so fucking much, lady.’ I kiss her cheek, hovering there for a few seconds, inhaling her into me. ‘Never give up, do you hear me? We have too much to fight for.’

  Her little sob is one full of emotion and relief. ‘Falling in love with you again was easy,’ she murmurs, so quietly. ‘This, though. The children. I love them. I didn’t need to fall, I just looked at them and knew. But part of being a good mother isn’t just loving them unconditionally. It’s knowing them inside out. What they like, what they hate.’ Her eyes close, her reality too much to bear, and I clasp the back of her head gently and tug her into my embrace. ‘I feel more lost now than ever. Just the look on their faces when I get something wrong.’

  ‘Stop it,’ I order. ‘Right this minute.’

  ‘I just hate disappointing them.’

  ‘You don’t disappoint them by forgetting what shit they like in their sandwich or what they have for breakfast. The only way you could disappoint
them is by not loving them. By giving up. Am I going to have to take you upstairs and give you a Reminder Fuck?’ I’m deadly serious, too, so she better not question my threat.

  ‘A reminder?’ Looking up at me, she sniffles through a little laugh.

  ‘Yes, a reminder.’ I stand and she slides down my front to her feet. Slowly. Her palms on my bare chest. Her gaze there, too. Lust-filled. I smile on the inside, because no matter how shit the timing is, I’ve distracted her from her downheartedness, and for that I will never apologise. Distracting her has always been my area of expertise. I’m so thankful that’s not lost. Placing my hand between her thighs, I cup her, forcing her to breathe in deep.

  ‘Jesse.’ Her voice cracks with the fiery passion displayed in her brown eyes, though she makes no attempt to escape me. I drag my hand up to her hip on a smile and clamp lightly down on her tickle spot. That breath she was holding spills free, though she doesn’t move a muscle.

  ‘Tell me you’ll never question your capabilities as a mother again,’ I command, flexing my hand just a fraction to give her a hint of the torture she’s about to endure should she deny me. ‘Go on, baby.’

  ‘I’ll never question it again.’ The words pour from her mouth fast, hardly audible.

  I pinch down and she bucks on a sharp squeal. ‘What was that?’ My smiling face gets close to her scowling face. ‘Say it again. Slowly so I can hear you.’

  ‘I’ll. Never. Doubt. Myself. Again.’ The second she’s spelled out my demand, she sucks in more air and holds it, waiting, bracing herself.

  I hold her on the cusp of anticipation for a few moments, before shifting my hand to her thighs again and going in for the kill, slamming my mouth to hers and walking us to the nearest wall. This weapon, my ability to bring her back around, to distract her from some of her misery, is all I have, and I’ll use it with no remorse or hesitation. The feel of her soft boobs squished against my hard chest, every curve she has melding into every sharp muscle on me, ramps up my need.

  Not great when the kids are within screaming distance. Not great at all. It doesn’t stop me attacking her lips with force, though, exploring her mouth as keenly as she’s exploring mine, her fingernails ravaging my shoulders and back, her whimpers of pleasure sinking into my brain and making my head spin with want rather than frustration.

  ‘Later.’ I bite on her lip and tug back, until it pops free of my teeth. ‘You are at my mercy, lady.’

  ‘Aren’t I always?’ Firm fists grab my hair and yank, pulling me back onto her mouth.

  ‘And don’t you forget it.’ We’re all clashing lips and teeth, rushed and clumsy. She thrusts her hips forward, catching my tented shorts.

  ‘Dad!’ Maddie’s shrill shriek lands in the kitchen with a bang and bats down my throbbing cock. Just like that. ‘Dad!’

  I fold, unimpressed, though Ava laughs, taking the edge off my annoyance. Having her to myself, albeit traumatic at times, was a rare treat. Being able to indulge her when I wanted was a blessing, especially given the circumstances. That connection was key. Not having to worry about being caught by the kids was a weight off my mind. A light wave of guilt passes over me for being so selfish.

  Growling, I yank myself away from Ava and push her hair off her sticky cheek. ‘No more tears,’ I order, heading to the kitchen door. ‘What’s up?’ I call to Maddie.

  ‘I can’t find my school uniform.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Jacob chimes in, appearing at the top of the stairs in his boxers.

  I wouldn’t have a fucking clue where to start looking for school uniforms. And I just know Ava won’t now, either. When she joins me at the bottom of the stairs, I half expect her to break down once more, and so do the twins, judging by their wary expressions. But instead, she breathes in and starts making her way up to them. ‘If we can’t find them, you’ll just have to go naked.’

  ‘Urghhhhh, gross!’ Maddie laughs, watching as Ava passes, her eyes sparkling in happiness.

  ‘Wouldn’t bother me.’ Jacob shrugs and looks down at me, like What’s the problem?

  ‘He clearly gets his confidence from you,’ Ava calls, sending me a pointed look.

  And I grin, so fucking proud of my wife. And of my kids. Of all of them. We’re a team. We can get through anything.

  Chapter 45

  Ava

  I wake this morning like I’ve woken every other morning for the past six weeks since the kids got home: with Jesse pressed into my back, his lips kissing down my spine slowly and lazily. It’s blissful, mind-blanking. And, as always, I melt under the warmth of his mouth rousing me from my dreams. I close my eyes again and let him take me to paradise, let my body soften, and let my senses take over. The friction of our skin rubbing together takes me from warm to blazing. The feel of his morning arousal brushing my thighs and arse takes me from wanting to silently begging. The feel of his breath layering every part of my skin it touches takes me from hungry to starving. I reach back, pushing my fingers through his morning mess of hair, sighing my contentment, bowing my body into his.

  ‘Morning, lady,’ he murmurs between nibbles of my shoulder, rolling his hips into my arse. ‘You ready for me?’

  ‘Always.’ It’s the truth. My body responds to him instinctively. My need for him is unrelenting.

  One sharp thrust puts him inside me, deep and high, my fingers gripping his hair as I cry out, his teeth nipping my flesh as he grunts. I’m floating. I feel like I’m on cloud nine, just seconds after waking, and I know that’s Jesse’s intention each morning. To start my day being reminded of how wonderful we are. It really isn’t necessary.

  I look at this man and sizzle inside. I listen to him, no matter what he’s saying, and take huge comfort from the deep baritone of his rough voice. I feel him touch me and just know we were always incomplete without each other. We are one.

  Our bodies move in perfect sync, flowing together softly and carefully, like they’re so familiar with each other. Because they are. I could never question the sense of right when we’re intimate like this, even on my bad days, when frustration gets the better of me, when a whole day passes without so much as a speck of a memory to encourage me on.

  Those days have turned into weeks. It’s been six weeks without anything, no memory, no flashbacks, leaving me with only the scraps of what I have, of what I built before my brain decided to grind to a halt where my past is concerned. Like a cork has been wedged in the hole, stopping the flow. It hasn’t escaped Jesse’s notice. His keen eyes are always watching me, his ears always listening. I’ve given him nothing for weeks. I can see the disappointment on his face no matter how hard he tries to disguise it with love.

  I feel under pressure. The only relief I’m getting is when we’re making love, when he manages to blank my mind completely, or when I go to yoga with Zara. She’s still unaware of my accident and condition, and that’s great, because she’s my other source of escape. I never feel like I’m disappointing her. I never feel like she’s looking at me as if I should know something. My new friend is respite that I so need.

  I know Jesse and I are building new memories, wonderful memories, but every day I still stare at that huge wall of photographs in the family room and wonder where the hell it’s all gone.

  ‘Stop it,’ he whispers, pulling out sharply and flipping me onto my back. My heavy gaze lifts to his green eyes, eyes that scream a thousand emotions each time I look into them, reflecting worry back at me this morning. ‘We’re still us. We still have the children. I still love you, and you still love me. That’s all that matters.’ On a swivel of his tight hips, he enters me again, falling to his forearms. The weight of him calms me, reminding me that I may have lost many memories of this man, but at least I still have him in the flesh. The unrelenting pain that strikes me when I think of being without him is enough to tell me that where I am is where I’m supposed to be. Not that I need a reminder. Not when ever
y fibre of my being is telling me so.

  I reach for his back and run my palms across the tight planes, feeling him. ‘That’s all I need,’ I affirm, swallowing when he withdraws slowly, purposely slowly, his eyes on mine as he drives forward again, exact and smooth.

  ‘Nothing can break us.’ He sweeps in and takes my mouth gently, and my legs come up to his waist to hold him everywhere I can. ‘That’s it, baby. Hold tight.’ The change in pace, from grinds to deep drives, has me struggling to maintain our kiss, my tongue becoming erratic in its movements, almost frenzied.

  ‘You nearly there?’ He pulls back, not needing an answer, but wanting to see my face when I tip the edge. Wedging his fists into the mattress, he ups the ante, mixing plunges with swivels, flexing sharply and then slowly. I’m lost in him, amazed through my pleasure of the heights he takes me to. To the places where I can forget. Where nothing exists except him and me and the passion we share.

  The sweat on his brow sparkles in the dusky light, his face beginning to strain as my release surges forward and detonates, instantly making me shake with the force, the tingling sensations too much, my flesh too sensitive. And he knows, because his movements stop and he puts pressure where I need it, stemming the sensitivity, as he comes hard, his roar suppressed, his face red with the pressure of blood rushing to his head. My internal walls grab him greedily and milk him dry, the heat of his essence pouring deeply into me.

  Jesse drops onto me in a heap of exhausted male, crowding me, still buried deep, where he will be for the next ten minutes while he snoozes on me, sporadically nuzzling and kissing my wet neck, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. And I hold him and savour the moment I cherish each morning before I have to get up and face my day.

  I breathe into his shoulder as we settle, constricting him, getting him as close as I possibly can. In my own silent way, I’m telling him that I’m happy to remain where I am. It’s not like I have much else to do. Work isn’t on the cards for me just yet.