This Man Confessed Read Online Free PDF

over my shoulder and rearrange my diamond.
    “You’re being very reasonable,” he says quietly, swooping down and tackling my mouth. I grip his shoulder and soak up his attentive tongue and the warmth of his big palm secured at the base of my back. “Hmmm. You taste delicious, Mrs. Ward. Ready?”
    I shake myself back to life. “Yes.” I’m all breathy and hot.
    He goes quiet and his eyes drift down my body, his hand slowly lifting and resting on my stomach. I flinch, and he freezes, his fingers resting lightly on my belly. I don’t know why that happened. He doesn’t look up; he just waits a few silent moments before spreading his fingers, and then circling big, soft rings on my tummy. I wish he would stop doing this. Neither of us has spoken about it, but it can’t be avoided for much longer. He must sense my lack of enthusiasm. This is my biggest burden of all. I don’t want a baby.
    I pull back and his hand drops. “Come on, then.” I can’t look at him. I start toward the door, but I’m soon halted when Jesse doesn’t follow, the metal of the cuffs cutting into my flesh. I wince a little.
    “Are we going to talk about this, Ava?” he asks shortly.
    “Talk about what?” I can’t do this, not now—not on my wedding day. We’ve had weeks of skirting around this, and for once it’s me who’s evading all talk. I’m in complete denial, but it’s hitting me harder each day. I could be pregnant.
    “You know what.”
    I keep my eyes down, not knowing what else to say. Time seems to slow, enhancing the awkward silence between us, and as I hear him draw breath to speak when I’m clearly not going to, the door crashes open and Mum charges in. I’ve never been so pleased to see her.
    “Can I ask,” she starts, all stern, “why you didn’t just run off somewhere to get married? I’m thoroughly fed up of running around trying to control you.”
    “We’re coming.” I pull at the cuffs, but he doesn’t budge.
    “We’ll be a few minutes, Elizabeth,” Jesse counters shortly.
    “No, we’re coming,” I argue, silently begging him to leave this exactly where it is. I give him pleading eyes, and he shakes his head on a sigh. “Please,” I say quietly.
    His hand delves into his hair in frustration and his jaw tightens severely. He’s not happy, but he relents and lets me pull him from the room. I can’t believe he has chosen today of all days to push for a talk on this. It’s my wedding day.

Chapter Three
    T he summer room looks incredible. Hints of green foliage peek out from among the masses of calla lilies adorning every spare space. The chairs are draped in white organza with big green bows fastened to the back, and tall glass vases, full of crystal clear water and tall calla lilies, dominate the tables.
    Simple, understated elegance.
    I’ve picked my way through a three-course meal with no wine and indulged anyone who’s approached in conversation. I’ve done anything to avoid looking at Jesse. John has given a short, sweet speech as Jesse’s best man, but there was no talk of their history as friends, or mention of Uncle Carmichael and the early days. John doesn’t do humor, although he seems to find Jesse’s way with me quite amusing.
    And my dad. I’m close to tears as I watch him battle his way through his notes, reminiscing on my youth and advising everyone of my feisty streak.
    He raises his glass and turns toward us. “Jesse, good luck,” he says seriously, prompting a chorus of laughter from our guests and a huge smile from Jesse, who raises his glass, too, then stands himself, keeping his arm down so he doesn’t yank at my wrist. My dad is applauded as he sits and downs a whiskey, my mum rubbing his shoulder on a smile.
    Jesse places his water on the table and turns toward me, dropping to his knees and taking my hands in his. My back straightens, and my eyes make a quick scan of the room, noting all attention is pointed right at us. Why can’t he just play by the