Read Online This Man Confessed by Jodi Ellen Malpas - Free Book Online Page B

flashbacks. I left my bra when I ran, and he stored it there all this time?
    He chucks it on the top of the drawers and shrugs sheepishly, then paces over to the bed and slips in beside me. I immediately crawl onto his chest and settle myself all over him, my face nuzzling straight into his neck.
    “Comfy?”
    “Hmmm,” I hum, my hands wandering all over the place, needing to feel him and relish in the flesh-on-flesh contact. He sat in here quietly and thought of me. He kept my bra. No one has been in here, except me. And he’s replaced the bed.
    “How do you feel?” he asks, letting me smother him.
    “I’m fine.” I sigh.
    He matches my sigh. “She’s fine.” I’m held tighter, his heartbeat thumping against my breastbone. “Go to sleep, my beautiful girl.”
    And I do. My eyes slowly close and I’m gone.

Chapter Six
    I open my eyes and stretch. It’s an over-the-top, completely contented extension of my body all over the bed. Then I smile to myself, listening to him in the bathroom—the sound of the tap jetting out streams of hot water, him collecting all of the cosmetics he’ll need, and then the unmistakable sound of him swishing the water to instigate some bubbles. My self-professed bath man is keeping to his word. We’re going to have a long soak in the bath and undoubtedly some tub-talk while we’re there. Do I want tub-talk today?
    Shuffling myself to the edge of the gigantic bed, I take my naked form over to the suite’s bathroom and lean up against the door frame. He’s sitting on a chair by the window, elbows resting on his knees, looking out across The Manor’s grounds. He’s naked too, every finely tuned muscle protruding from his back and his dark blond hair damp from the condensation filling the vast space. I could stand all day and watch him, but even from here and with his back to me, I can see the cogs of his mind racing at a hundred miles per hour. He’s probably thinking about my denial, and he’s undoubtedly thinking about how he can keep me at home. It’s Monday tomorrow.
    My unreasonable, challenging, neurotic control freak.
    My ex-playboy.
    And now my husband.
    I need to touch him.
    I approach quietly, my eyes getting more delighted the closer I get, my skin starting to prickle with the usual sparks that simmer between our bodies. “I know when you’re near, beautiful girl.” He doesn’t look around. “You’ll never get away with that.”
    Moving in front of him, I climb onto his lap, planting my cheek on his chest.
    His arms engulf me and his face plummets into my hair. “How are you feeling?”
    I smile into his chest. “Fine.”
    “Fine,” he replies, pulling me in closer. “Don’t go to work tomorrow.”
    I sag in his lap slightly. I had agreed to marry him quickly if he accepted that there would be no honeymoon, and if he agreed to chill out on the overprotectiveness and unreasonableness. My instincts told me he’d fail on all counts.
    I pull myself up and face him. “I need to work.”
    He shakes his head. “You don’t need to work at all. We need to be together.”
    “We are together.”
    “You know what I mean,” he grumbles.
    I’m going to get nowhere with this, so I remove myself from his lap and head for the bath.
    “What are you doing?”
    I don’t need to turn around to confirm the scowl that I know will be on his face. “Having a bath.” I climb in and settle back, but almost instantly move forward to give him space.
    He climbs in and settles behind me, pulling me back to rest on his chest and homing straight in on my ear, giving a little growl and a nibble. “I’ve told you before, don’t fight me off.”
    “Then stop making unreasonable demands.”
    He bites down harder on my lobe. “And I’ve also told you that before. There is nothing unreasonable about wanting to keep you safe.”
    “You mean keep me to yourself.” I close my eyes and let my head relax against him, my palms sliding onto his strong, wet thighs.
    “No.” His