All I Am

Book 0: This Man

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

A new novella featuring Drew from the Sunday Times and New York Times bestselling This Man trilogy.

From bestselling author Jodi Ellen Malpas comes a new novella in the This Man series. You don't need to read the series to enjoy this story, but if you're already a Jesse Ward fan, just wait till you see the advice he gives Drew about falling in love.

I thought I had control. I was so, so wrong...

I don't need a relationship. I have Hux, a decadent club where I quench whatever raw desire I choose. I take pleasure and I give it — no strings attached. So when Raya Rivers comes in asking for someone cold, emotionless, and filthy... well, no man ever takes his wicked pleasure quite the way I do.

Only Raya is different. Vulnerable. And carrying some deep sorrow that gets past all my carefully constructed walls and inexplicably makes me care. Now craving controls me. Ice has given way to red-hot need.

But Raya has no idea about my other life — my real life. That I'm daddy to an adorable little girl. My two worlds are about to collide with the force of a supernova. Once Raya knows the truth, will she be able to accept all I am?

Release date: June 18, 2017

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 128

Sample

Chapter 1

There’s something seedy about this club. Something that was always absent at my previous club, The Manor. My old haunt in the Surrey Hills felt like home. The lavish grounds, the refined décor, the social environment. It felt like an extension of my life, and it was. Hux is just somewhere I come to fuck.

It’s always basked in dim, erotic lighting, and the fog of moans that follow you everywhere cement themselves in your head, lingering long after you’ve left the building. Everything always happens in slow motion here. People walking, people talking, mouths moving so slowly you can pretty much lip-read every word being said. Talk of fantasies, of intentions, and of deepest, darkest desires. Nothing is sacred around here. There’s no mystery or intrigue. You walk through those doors off a London back street and you know exactly what you are going to get. Sex. Sex of the filthy kind. The emotionless scene suits me down to the ground. I don’t have time for the complications of a relationship.

Standing behind her kneeling form, I curl the chains around her neck and squeeze, just a fraction, until her breath is even shallower than her orgasm has left her. I dip, getting my face close to hers. “Thanks for playing.” I whisper in her ear, before moving my mouth south and biting down on her cheek. She turns her head and stares at me with eyes that still harbor endless hunger. Hunger for me.

Releasing her, leaving her on her knees, I stride into the adjoining bathroom and take a shower, washing away the potent scent of sex. Once I’ve dried off, I stare at myself in the mirror, my blue eyes tired, my dark hair limp and falling across my forehead, covering the few creases that have formed in recent years. Though I’ve avoided the dreaded gray. “Not bad for thirty-nine, Drew.”

I get back into my suit and make my way through the club as I scroll through my phone to see where the lads are. Now I’ve let off some steam, it’s time for a beer.

“Hey, Drew.”

I slow and turn, seeing the owner of this decadent pleasure pit, Cole Hux, zipping up the fly of his trousers, his vast chest bare, the swell of his biceps shimmering with sweat under the dim lights. “What’s up, Cole?”

“Here.” His six-foot seven-inch frame is before me in a few long paces, his huge hand holding out a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” I ask, tentatively taking it.

“Newbie.” He turns and wanders off to his office. “She said she wants someone cold, emotionless, and filthy.”

“So you thought of me.” I say to myself, looking down at the name and mobile number. “Raya.” I muse, stuffing the note in my pocket and heading for my car. I can do cold, emotionless, and filthy. With little effort. Actually, with no effort.

*  *  *

I’m rolling my shoulder as I wander into the bar, working out some of the stiffness on a slight wince. It’s been a long week in the office, but with eight sales made, one of which was an overpriced, under-par penthouse in Chelsea that’s been on the market for over a year, you could say it’s been a great week for business.

I find Sam, one of my oldest friends, at the bar alone and join him, a beer ready and waiting for me. “Where’s Jesse?” I ask as I take up the stool beside him. The three of us have kept our weekly man-time date for as long as we’ve known each other, and only on a few rare occasions over the decades have any of us missed it. So where is he?

The look Sam flashes me is full of amusement that’s trying to be hidden by sympathy.

“Who’s upset him?” I swipe my beer up and clink it against Sam’s.

“I’ll give you two guesses.” He tips his bottle to his lips, his eyes dancing with enjoyment.

“Maddie.” I don’t need two guesses. “How can a man get so worked up over a seven-year-old?”

Sam chuckles, ever relishing in our poor mate’s despair. “She’s not like your Georgia.”

I smile at the mention of my girl. My placid, sweet little girl. She looks like me. Has my reserved, quiet nature. I’m so glad, since I hate her fucking mother. I’ve got her back from Coral on Saturday, thank God. The three days a week she’s away from me are long and lonely. “How’s Kate?”

“Baking her arse off. It’s wedding season.” He reaches up to his shoulder and brushes off a smudge of flour. “You had a good week?”

“Great week.”

Sam gives me the once-over, his eyes landing on my crotch. “Been to the club?”

I look down and find my fly undone. On a roll of my eyes, I hold my bottle in my mouth by the neck as I fasten myself up. “Jealous?”

“Nope. I’m quite happy with my girl, thank you very much.” He dismisses me in an instant.

I smile on the inside. “I’m available if you need me.” That soon wins back his attention, and it’s not positive attention. “Just saying.” I hold up my hands, a show of surrender.

“Well don’t.” My cheerful mate, whose eyes are constantly sparkling happily, is on the verge of snarling. “It was a one-off eight years ago.”

I turn to the bar, getting hold of my amusement quickly before he slugs me one. One time eight years ago, Sam’s now-girlfriend decided she wanted to dabble in all things kinky. We gave her what she wanted. Boy, did we give her what she wanted. I didn’t get attached, never do. But Sam did.

He taps my knee, and I look toward the door where he’s staring, finding Jesse striding toward us with a face like thunder. I quickly signal to the barman for a beer. “My man!” Sam sings, smacking the surface of the bar.

“Fuck off,” Jesse grunts, and I laugh under my breath, bracing myself for a rant about all things concerning his daughter. Maddie is spirited. Jesse’s word, not mine. He slams his arse on the stool and practically snatches the beer out of the barman’s hand. We pipe down, facing the bar, and I peek out of the corner of my eye to find Sam grinning around the lip of his bottle. He’s asking for it.

I clear my throat and swoop in for some man-talk to distract Jesse from his daddy stress, at the same time distracting Sam from pushing him over the edge. “I have—”

I’m cut off when Jesse’s phone rings, and silence falls as we all stare down at his screen, where Ava’s name is flashing up like the warning light it is.

“Oh dear.” I sigh as Jesse snatches it up from the bar. My shoulders rise, a lame attempt to cover my ears, and I wince with the deep ache it spikes. Motherfucker. I reach up and rub into my muscles. I need to get this bad shoulder sorted.

“It’s not up for discussion, Ava,” Jesse answers in greeting, clean and to the point. Sam’s lips compress with contained laughter, earning a kick under the bar from me and a lethal glare from Jesse. He shrinks on his stool, though his laughter is warranted: we all know Ava’s feistiness drives Jesse to distraction, but displaying any amusement or offering advice is a fatal mistake. I’ve been friends with Jesse long enough to know that my opinion counts for shit when he’s dealing with his wife and kids. Even if he’s wrong, which most of the time he is. My eyes close when I hear Ava.

Clear. As. Day.

“It’s hair, Jesse,” she tells him, voice raised. “You’re being fucking dramatic as always.”

Sam and I wince, both waiting for it.

He slams his fist down on the bar, rocking the joint. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

“It’ll grow back.” Ava’s tone is quickly pacifying. It’s a waste of her time.

“You didn’t even consult me, for fuck’s sake,” he barks. “You and that little minx conspired against me, and now my baby girl is virtually bald!”

My lips press together, but Sam is past the point of help, his whole body out of control from laughing.

“It’s past her shoulders, Jesse. Stop being so damn unreasonable.” She may as well be waving a red flag to a fucking bull. “We’ll discuss it when you get home.”

“When I get home, Ava,” he breathes, strung out, his tone threatening to a point I’m even worried for Ava. “You better be hiding because there’s a retribution fuck on the horizon for you, lady.” He slams his phone down and sinks half his beer, heaving and bristling like a grizzly bear.

“So Maddie’s had her hair cut, then?” Sam asks. The man has a death wish.

“Butchered, more like.” Jesse swings toward us on his stool and points his beer across my chest to Sam. I retreat, out of the firing line. “And that woman of yours was in on the gig, too. A spa day, they said. Girl time, they said. They neglected to mention that my baby girl would come back with half a head of hair and pink fucking nails. She’s seven, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hey.” Sam backs off. “Kate’s her own woman. Nothing to do with me.”

Jesse scoffs, and I resort to taking matters into my own hands before he explodes. “So I have someone who requires my services.” I slap the piece of paper that Cole gave me on the bar.

Jesse and Sam immediately lean forward, distracted as planned, and peer at the paper. “Raya,” Sam muses.

“How’d she get hold of you?” Jesse asks.

“Through the club.” My answer prompts the usual curled lip from Jesse when I make reference to Hux. I laugh to myself. “Well, if you hadn’t sold The Manor, I wouldn’t be forced to find somewhere else to play.”

“You need to lay off that lifestyle,” Jesse tells me for the thousandth time.

“How else am I supposed to let off steam in between work and Georgia?” I retort indignantly.

“Date.”

I scoff. “I haven’t got time for that shit.”

“You’re pushing forty. Time to settle down.”

“Fuck you,” I spit. “You’re pushing fifty, and the only reason you got out was because, by som. . .