This Woman Forever (This Man – The Story from Jesse #3) Read Online Jodi Ellen Malpas

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Contemporary, Drama, Erotic Tags Authors: Series: This Man - The Story from Jesse Series by Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
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But first, I need to do something.

It’s been a roller coaster, and I feel like it’s just slowed down long enough for me to take a breath and brace myself for the loops on the horizon. I lift Ava onto the counter and peck her lips. “Stay there.”

“Where are you going?” she calls, her frown following me out of the room.

“Just wait.” I shudder, chills catching my wet skin as I hurry across the bedroom and enter the dressing room. I scratch around in drawers and behind clothes. Nothing. Where the hell are they? I moved them to here a couple of weeks ago. Definitely. Cathy found them in the laundry room, so I moved them to a cupboard in the kitchen, then moved them to the dressing room. “Ah.” I go to the end wardrobe where my suits hang and get on my knees, feeling at the back. “Bingo.” I pull out the paper bag and go back to the bathroom.

“What’s that?” Ava asks, eyeing the bag cautiously. I’m nervous. How can I explain what I need her to do?

I gnaw on my lip, opening the bag and holding it out for her to look, and she reluctantly peeks inside. “You don’t believe me?” she blurts, injured, holding her towel closer protectively.

I knew she’d draw the most negative conclusion. It’s a habit of hers. “Of course I do.” But she’s done one test. Just one. And I didn’t see it. Forgive me, but the past few weeks have been a seesaw of is she? isn’t she? and after everything, I’m feeling like I want to see it for myself. Need to.

“Then why do you have a paper bag with . . .” She takes it and upends it, sending the boxes falling into the sink. She then proceeds to count them while I watch on. I could have told her how many are there. Sixteen. “Why do you have eight pregnancy tests?” she asks.

I lift my shoulders on a half-hearted shrug and push the box she’s holding aside. “There are two in a box.”

“Sixteen?”

“Sometimes they don’t work properly.” I’ve heard stories before, women who have had false positives and false negatives. Again, I’m taking no chances. I’ll also be arranging a scan tomorrow. “They’re just backups.” I get one out and hold it up. “You have to pee on this bit here,” I say, pointing to the end. “Look.”

“I did one at the doctor’s, Jesse,” she moans, exasperated. “I know how they work. Why won’t you take my word for it?”

“I do take your word for it,” I assure her. The pregnancy test’s word, however, I don’t trust, which is ironic because my wife is the one in this situation who’s been misleading.

And you haven’t?

I still, holding back my scowl. I should have known Jake would have something to say during this conversation.

Fuck off.

No.

“I need to see it for myself,” I say to Ava’s indignant face. She can’t protest and she knows it, but rather than tell her what she knows and risk her sass coming out to play, I give her a cute smile and wide, hopeful eyes.

“How long have you had these?” she asks, softening.

Yeah, not telling her that. Her open palm hovers between us, and I grin at it.

“Give,” she orders.

I’m thrilled. Delighted. The dynamics are going exactly the right way already. She huffs and puffs about it, but she slips off the vanity unit and goes to the toilet. I throw a towel around my waist.

“Some privacy, please?” she says.

Absolutely not. I know her body on the deepest level. It’s about to go deeper, so she’d better get used to it. “I’m staying.”

“I’m not peeing on a stick in front of you. No way, Ward.”

Yes, way, and to demonstrate how passionate I am about her peeing on the stick while I’m in the room, I sit myself on the floor. “Move me.” I cock a cocky brow and don’t bother covering myself when the towel slips open.

“I’ll use another bathroom.” She moves past me, and I reach for her ankle, stopping her. “Jesse,” she yelps, trying and failing to walk on, my impressive, heavy frame hanging on to her.

“Humor me, baby,” I plead. “Please.”

Ava looks back, sighs, and sags. “Can you at least turn around?”

Is she shy? “No.” I stand and pull my towel away. Ava blinks, her attention captured and, hopefully, she’s distracted from her issue, which isn’t even an issue. I fucked her up the arse the second time I fucked her, for the love of God, which happened to be on the same day I fucked her for the very first time. And now she’s shy?

Let the battle commence. “Does this make you feel better?” I ask, arms out, showcasing myself for my wife to enjoy. And she really enjoys.

“No.” She sighs dreamily, head tilted. “That just distracts me.”


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