With This Man Read Online Jodi Ellen Malpas (This Man #4)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: This Man Series by Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
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‘Good little children.’ I smirk as they both give me the death stare before they disappear. Ava’s phone rings, and I swipe it up from the side table, looking at the screen as I make my way upstairs to my check up on my wife.

‘Zara,’ I muse, connecting the call. Time for me to introduce myself to this new friend. ‘Hi.’ I hear a few rustles, and then the phone goes dead. I frown down at the screen as a text message lands.

Call me when you’re free. Just checking how you’re feeling.

I take the liberty of answering for Ava.

It’s Jesse. Ava’s husband. We’re on our way to a wedding. I’ll get her to call you tomorrow.

Ah! The famous husband. I’ve heard lots about you ;-)

Did she just fucking wink at me? I give the phone a dubious glare, wondering what exactly Ava’s been telling her that warrants a wink. I don’t know, but I make a mental note to ask.

I’m surprised when I find Ava sitting in front of the mirror, straightening her hair. ‘You look perkier.’ I chuck her phone on the bed and lower to the floor behind her, framing her with my knees, shifting in close until my groin is wedged up close to her lower back. ‘Your yoga friend just texted you. I told her you’d call her tomorrow.’

‘You read and answered my message?’ she asks in shock.

‘Yes.’ I show no remorse, because I have none. ‘So what have you been telling this Zara about me?’

Ava’s eyes narrow playfully as she sweeps her cheeks with a make-up brush, adding a glow to her cheekbones. ‘That you’re a god. That you’re possessive, unreasonable and controlling, but it’s all because you love me with every bone in your body.’

‘And every drop of blood in my veins,’ I add, giving her a devilish smirk, but it falls when I notice she doesn’t return it. She’s looking pensive. ‘Hey, what’s up?’ Is she worried about the wedding? The public appearance in front of so many people? I don’t think it could be that. She’s seemed okay this past week, her bug aside. Sometimes quiet, but that’s to be expected. I’ve got used to her losing herself in her thoughts every now and then, concluding that she’s trying to recall something. There have been no monumental breakthroughs in her memories. We’ve just kind of fallen back into life. And it’s been good. Relatively normal, aside from the odd thing she forgets every now and then. According to her doctor, that’s normal, too.

I can’t deny, though, I still feel so uncertain about so many things. Yet one thing I’m sure of is our beautiful, unrelenting love. But love isn’t always beautiful. Sometimes it’s tragic. Most of the time it’s tragic. It cuts you up, tears you apart, fucking suffocates you, but it’s the only thing that can put you back together again. It’s a sadistic bastard as well as the most enriching, comforting thing in this world. And that’s what I’ve survived on – my love, our love, because if I’ve learned anything, it’s that time stops for no one. Life continues no matter if you’re happy with where yours has been or where it is heading. You can’t stop it. You just have to tilt the scale and make it the best it can be. Change the direction towards somewhere you want to go.

And that’s exactly what I’ve done. And I thought I’d done a good job. So why is she looking so unsure all of a sudden?

Placing her make-up brush on the floor, she stares at me in the mirror, biting her lip, thinking. ‘Is it your head?’ I ask. ‘Do you still feel off?’ Oh shit, has she had a breakthrough and not told me, maybe because she’s shocked? Horrified? Or, worse still, questioning why she’s in this marriage? Piles and piles of reasons for her despondency all land on me at once, and I filter through the barrage, trying to narrow it down to anything obvious.

‘I’m pregnant.’

Everything except that.

There’s some kind of blockage happening between my brain and mouth, rendering me unable to speak. Pregnant? How? The blockage suddenly dislodges, and I immediately start shaking like a motherfucker, my body cold. ‘I’m sorry, what?’

Her eyes, sharp but cautious, study me in the reflection. ‘I . . . am . . . pregnant.’ This time, she spells it out, as if I didn’t catch the bombshell the first time.

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.

‘Pregnant,’ I finally manage, swallowing hard. ‘How?’

She shrugs, looking a little timid. ‘The antibiotics, I think. Sometimes they interfere with the pill.’

‘Fucking hell,’ I all but breathe, slapping the ball of my fist into my forehead. The irony doesn’t escape me. It doesn’t escape Ava either, going by the slight twist of her lips. When we met and she turned my world upside down, I spent weeks sneakily stealing her pills in a wild and reckless mission to get her pregnant to ensure I could keep her for ever. It was no accidental pregnancy, not on my part, anyway. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing, either. I adore my kids, wouldn’t be without them. But it doesn’t mean I want more.


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