With This Man

Book 4: This Man

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

Genres: Family Life; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Jesse Ward is back in the newest novel in the #1 New York Times bestselling This Man series!

Life is good for Jesse "the Lord" Ward-perfect, actually. He still has the charm, he's in great shape, and he still reduces his wife, Ava, to a pool of desire with a mere look. He's in full control, just how he likes it.

But Jesse's perfect world falls apart when a terrible accident lands Ava in the hospital with a life-threatening head injury. Devastated and angry, he feels like his entire existence hangs in the balance. He cannot survive without this woman's love. So when she finally comes around, his shaking world begins to level out. But his nightmare doesn't end there. It's only just begun. Because his wife can't remember the last sixteen years of her life. That's all of him. All of their time together. He is a stranger to her.

Now Jesse must do whatever it takes to help her find her memories ... and fall madly, passionately in love with him all over again.

Release date: March 20, 2018

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 496

Sample

Chapter 1

The pounding of my feet on the treadmill is rhythmic and comforting. The sound of Imagine Dragons’ “Believer” on my iPhone is muffled by the pulse throbbing in my ears. The hammering of my heart tells me I’m alive. Not that I need to run until I can’t feel my legs to achieve that anymore.

My pace increases, my breath beginning to become labored as my run turns into a sprint. Sweat is pouring down my bare chest as I watch the clock across the gym, eyeing the second hand slowly roll around the dial. Two more minutes. Keep the pace for two more minutes.

Yet when the time has ticked down and the machine automatically starts to slow, my legs do not. I smack my hand on the plus button to increase the pace again, my ego refusing to let me stop just yet. One more mile. I crank up the volume and sprint on for a while longer, pushing air steadily through my nose, roughly wiping away the sweat rolling down my forehead. Glancing down at the screen on the treadmill, I note my distance. Fifteen miles. Done.

I slam my fist on the button and let the machine work me down to a gentle jog, yanking the buds out of my ears and grabbing my T-shirt to wipe my wet face.

“You did it faster yesterday, you stubborn motherfucker.”

My feet slow to a stop and I brace my hands on the handles, dropping my head while I work to level out my breathing. “Fuck you,” I manage to wheeze, turning to face one of my oldest friends. John’s shit-eating grin, the one that displays his gold tooth to its fullest, makes me want to knock it out.

He chuckles, low and rumbling, throwing a towel at my chest. “Still not come to terms with it, then?”

Stepping down off the treadmill, I wipe my soaked chest before shoving the towel back at him. “No idea what you’re on about.” I’m lying. I know exactly what the bastard is on about, and I’m sick to fucking death of being wound up about it. I’m not even sure how it’s happened—where the time has gone. Because, Lord help me, I’m fifty this weekend. Fifty fucking years old. My ego is dented more each time I think about it.

I make my way over to the water cooler, John following behind.

“Fifty suits you.”

I roll my eyes as I grab a cup and shove it under the tap. “Did you want something?”

Another mild chuckle sounds from behind me as I glug down the water and turn to face the smug bastard. I don’t know what he’s so tickled pink about. John’s knocking on sixty, though you’d never know it. He’s still in prime shape, not that I’d ever tell him so.

“The new weight machines are arriving later.”

“You good to take care of that?” I ask, refilling my cup.

“No problem.”

“Thanks.” I glance around the gym floor of the health club I own, the space alive with music, sweat, and pounding hearts. Disciples’ “Daylight” is booming, adrenaline pumping, shouts of encouragement ringing out. Turns out I missed owning a club after all. Not the sex and the indulgence of The Manor, but the community, the social aspect, and the day-to-day running of a business. So I opened a new business, this one not so secret but still pretty exclusive. JW’s Fitness & Spa has gone from strength to strength since opening its doors six years ago.

“Where’s Ava?”

John takes my empty cup from my hand and tosses it in the bin before wandering away. “In the office.”

In the office? A smile spreads across my face as I take off across the gym, the thrumming of my pulse building again, except this time it’s dropped into my shorts.

My pace quickens, and I bowl into the office, my plan mastered…and screech to a halt when I find no Ava. I scowl at the empty space and pull my phone from my pocket, dialing her as I stalk toward the desk.

“Hey,” she answers, sounding a bit exasperated.

I don’t ask why. At this moment in time, I’m really not interested. “Where are you?” I drop down into the chair at her desk.

“In the spa.”

“You have three seconds to get your arse to your office,” I tell her, smirking a little when I hear her gasp.

“I’m all the way across the club.”

I shrug to myself. “Three,” I whisper, kicking my feet up onto her desk and relaxing back.

“Jesse, I’m trying to sort out a disagreement between staff.”

“Don’t care. Two.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

My jaw rolls with irritation. “You’ll pay for that. One.” The sound of her rushed steps seeps down the line, and I smile, victorious. “Ticktock,” I say casually, reaching down to rearrange my jutting cock.

“We’re at work.”

I scoff. “Wherever, whenever.” She knows that.

“You’re very demanding, Jesse Ward.” The huskiness of her voice forces me to inhale, deeply and controlled. Yes, she sometimes still runs away from me, but sometimes she runs to me. Like now. When she knows I’m charged and waiting in the office.

My eyes fall to the door, energy surging through me. Come on, baby. I hear her hustling down the corridor toward the office, and then the door swings open.

And there she is. My gorgeous wife. She looks no different from the day I met her. Sexy. Beautiful. The perfect mix of elegance and sass. “Zero, baby,” I murmur, cutting our call and tossing my phone on her desk.

A familiar shiver bumps its way up my spine, and I smile, taking in every fucking perfect inch of her. She places a hand on the door frame, leaning into it as she chews her lip, eyes full of delight. Delight at seeing me. Her husband. The man she loves. “Good day?” she asks.

“It’s better now,” I admit. “Are you going to make it even better?”

Her greedy stare drinks me in. I love it. I love how she can’t control her need to ogle me constantly, either. Yeah, so I’m fifty this weekend. So fucking what. I’ve still got it. I suddenly feel like the god she thinks I am. The god I know I am. “Well?” I prompt. She knows that there’s only one right answer to this question.

She shrugs, playing it cool. Such a waste of her time. And mine.

“Don’t play games with me, lady.”

“You love our games.”

“Not as much as I love being buried to the hilt inside you.” I drop my feet from the desk and stand. “You’re wasting valuable time. Come here.”

“Come get me.” She shuts the door behind her and flips the lock as I stalk forward, her eyes shining harder with each step I take. Her body tenses, preparing for my attack. Every nerve ending I have is alive and screaming for her. A swift dip and grab has her over my shoulder, and I’m on my way back to the desk.

She’s laughing, her palms sliding under the waistband of my shorts onto my arse. She squeezes, digging her nails into the flesh. “You’re all sweaty.”

I lay her on the desk and spread myself all over her, pinning her in place with one hand while sliding her dress up her body as she wriggles defiantly. Pointlessly. “Stop fighting me, baby,” I warn, pulling it up over her head and tossing the material aside before going for the knickers. I smile at the lace concealing her from me, reaching down with my mouth and taking the side between my teeth.

“Jesse!” she yells, head tossing back and forth, her body writhing.

I laugh under my breath. The play for power never gets old. “Who has the power?” I ask, ripping the material from her waist and spitting it out.

“You, you fucking control freak!”

“Watch your mouth!” I pull the cups of her bra down and shove my shorts down my thighs, freeing my raging hard-on.

Heavy eyes lift to mine as she sits up, takes hold of my cock, and executes a deadly stroke down the shaft. My torso folds, the sensation of her warm palm surrounding my flesh overwhelming. “Fuck, Ava,” I choke out, resting my hands on her shoulders, my chin dropped to my chest. “I’m sure I could chase the moon and catch it when you’re touching me.” I’m pretty sure I could do anything. I’m invincible, indestructible. Yet I’m so utterly vulnerable, too.

She lowers back down to the desk and arches, her breathing shallow, her face damp and flushed. The sight is out of this world, the sounds magic. “Fuck me,” she demands, impatient and eager. “Please, fuck me.”

“Watch your mouth, Ava,” I warn, taking her behind the knees and yanking her forward. “I have every intention of fucking you, wife. Hard. Fast.”

The wonderful heat of her pussy is pulling me in like a magnet. The burning need in me intensifies. “Oh, Jesus, baby.” I bend and kiss each nipple in turn before standing and ramming forward unforgivingly, panting like a motherfucker as she screams through the shock. It’s always as good as the first time.

Her hands fly up over her head to cling onto the side of the desk. “Oh God!”

I grit my teeth, withdrawing and driving forward. Hard.

“Jesse!”

“You like that, lady?”

“Harder,” she demands, her eyes wild. “Remind me.”

“Of what?”

“Anything.” She flexes her hips, egging me on. “Show me who has the power.”

My smile is wide and satisfied as I watch her waiting for me to do as she’s ordered. But I won’t. Not until she says those three magic words. I abruptly stop and hold still, buried deep in her warmth, waiting. “Say it,” I breathe, dropping my torso to hers and kissing the side of her mouth. “Give me what I want and I’ll give you want you want.”

Her face turns into mine, catching my lips sweetly. “I love you,” she mumbles around our rolling tongues. “So much.”

I smile against her lips and slowly push myself back up. “Hold on, baby.”

Her entire body goes rigid, bracing herself for it. I don’t hold back. Never will. I smash into her with brutal force over and over, spiking constant screams of ecstasy. It’s like music to my ears. But I want to see how much she wants me, so I withdraw and place my palms on her knees, pushing her legs back, completely exposing her glistening pussy. She’s throbbing. “Fucking beautiful,” I whisper in awe. I slowly reenter her, dropping my head back and finding my pace, driving forward, plunging deep, rolling hard. “Come on, baby,” I breathe, starting to sweat. “Find it.”

More yells. More panting. My senses are in chaos. The blood that charges into my cock nearly knocks me to my knees, my grip of Ava’s legs increasing as I thrust on. The signs of her impending orgasm are all there: wide, bright eyes and her fingers clawing into the wood. She’s going, and one look down at her amazing breasts has me going with her. My torso tenses and convulses, a shock wave of pleasure chasing through my body. It’s powerful. So fucking powerful. I come hard, shaking like a fucking leaf while Ava moans through her release, my fingers flexing on her knees. Good. Fucking. Lord.

“Shit,” she breathes, going lax, her head falling to the side, her eyes closing. “Fucking hell, Jesse.”

I release her knees and collapse onto her, making sure I remain tucked inside her, relishing in the consistent pulls of her walls around my surging dick. “Watch,” I pant. “Your.” Kissing her sweaty cheek, I relax all of my weight atop of her. “Mouth.”

“You’re good.”

“I know.”

“You’re a pighead.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

I snuggle into her neck and sigh. “I know.”

Her arms come around my back and hug me tightly to her. I’m home. Contentment flourishes within me. “I need to go pick the kids up from school.”

“Hmmm…” I’m unable to muster any more strength to talk, let alone move. And then there’s a knock at the door, and I grumble, lazily pushing myself up from her desk. “Same time tomorrow?”

She grins as she wriggles off the desk and starts putting herself back together, my pout growing with every piece of her skin that she’s slowly covering. “Coming,” she calls to the door, slipping her dress over her head.

I tuck myself into my shorts and sit on the couch across the room. “You already came.”

She rolls her eyes at my cheeky grin and rushes to the door, having a quick faff with her hair before taking the handle. She’s wasting her time. Her cheeks are glowing, her whole being looking freshly fucked. She swings the door open, and I know immediately who’s on the other side when I see my wife’s shoulders rise and tense.

“Cherry,” Ava says flatly, turning on her heel and making her way back to her desk. She flashes me a look on her way, one that confirms what I already know. She doesn’t like Cherry.

According to my wife, the woman has the hots for me. I don’t know why this is news to Ava. Every woman has the hots for me. “I’m just going to get the twins.” Ava sweeps up her bag and throws it onto her shoulder. “What’s up?”

Cherry struts into the office and places a file on Ava’s desk. Her blond hair is twisted tightly into a bun high on her head, and her white shirt has a few too many buttons open, in my opinion. I’m not purposely looking. You just can’t help but notice.

“The membership reports you asked for.”

“Perfect. I’ll look at them tomorrow.” Ava makes her way to the door, casting her eyes over to me where I’m sprawled on the couch. “Walk me out.” It’s not a question.

I grin. My wife’s feeling all possessive. Getting up from the couch, I fetch my T-shirt from Ava’s desk and throw it on as I stride to the door. I don’t miss Cherry’s admiring stare as I pull the shirt down my torso, and neither does my wife.

“Let’s go.” I collect Ava and get us on our way before her claws come out.

“She fancies you,” she grumbles, wrapping an arm around my waist. “If she wasn’t so good at her job and I didn’t need her so much, she’d be gone.”

I laugh. “She’s not done anything wrong.”

“Yeah, she has. She looks at you.”

I tug my wife more firmly into my side. “You can’t trample staff for looking at me.”

“What would you do if a male employee looked at me like that?”

Heat. It’s instant in my veins, and it’s not the satisfying kind. My growl is automatic, and she laughs, breaking away from me when we make it to the bottom of the stairs in the reception area.

“I don’t think so, lady.” I yank her back and crowd her with my arms. “Don’t say shit that will make me crazy mad.” I slam my lips on hers and devour her for a few mind-spinning moments. “See you at home.” I bite her lip and pull away, smiling as I back up at her obvious daze. She’s forgotten where she was heading. “Go pick up the kids,” I remind her.

She shakes herself back to life and glances around the reception space. No one’s paying any attention. They all know how we operate. This isn’t just our normal anymore, it’s our staff’s normal. Has to be if they want to keep their jobs.

Off my wife goes, and I start counting down the minutes until I can go home and see my babies.

Chapter 2

As I ride my Ducati up the long driveway of our little manor, peace settles over me. Ava’s car is in its usual place, the boot open. Coming to a stop next to her Mini, I pull off my helmet and scan the filthy vehicle. The black paintwork looks dusty, dull, and old. “You don’t see dust on white,” I mutter to myself. “And you can get more shopping bags into a Range Rover.”

I may have forced the biggest, sturdiest vehicle on her one time, but she finally talked me around and got her faithful Mini back.

Ava appears at the front door, her steps faltering when she spots me by my bike. Holding her dark chocolate gaze, I rest my arse on the seat and my helmet on my lap, crossing my legs at the ankles. Well, isn’t this the best welcome home a man could ask for? I take my time to admire her. She still looks freshly fucked. “My lady,” I say, my tone automatically gravelly.

She brushes her hair over her shoulder. “My Lord.”

I find myself shifting to adjust my growing hard-on behind the fly of my leathers. Her restrained grin tells me she knows of the activity she’s spiked down there, and for a moment I consider once again how my wife must feel to know that she still, twelve years after we met, has this profound effect on me. I can’t get enough of her.

She sashays slowly down the steps, watching me closely until she gets to the rear of her car. Then she reaches in, accentuating the swell of her curvy arse, and pulls out a Tesco bag. “Put the bag down,” I tell her.

“Stop being so demanding.” She feigns a sigh and swivels on her heels, swaying her arse as she saunters up the steps with the shopping bag hanging from her fingers. “I have your children to feed.”

“And I have needs, lady,” I call, dumping my helmet on the seat of my bike and going in pursuit of her. “Ava!”

I hear her laugh as she disappears through the doorway, and when I land in the kitchen, I find her standing with the bag at her feet. I pull to a stop and watch as she bends down slowly, seductively, and pulls some items from the bag. I grin when she waggles a cheeky eyebrow at me and flashes two jars of peanut butter. “I might let you lick it off me.”

“Might let me?” I laugh, amused by her coyness. “Ava, you’ve been married to me for over a decade. Haven’t you learned yet?”

“I have the power,” she whispers, sliding the jars onto the worktop and pouting her full lips.

I find myself doubling over to stop my cock from breaking free of my leathers. “Ava, unless now is a good time to bend you over the worktop and fuck you blind, don’t be teasing me.” Jesus, I’ve had to control where I can take her since the twins were born. My willpower is wearing thin. Maybe it’s my age. I shake that thought quickly away before it has a chance to ruin my mood.

“You need to talk to Maddie.” Ava’s statement comes from nowhere.

I scoff. Nope. No way, because I know exactly what my eleven-year-old daughter wants to talk about. “I’m not going over it again, Ava. End of.”

“You need to learn how to deal with her before she divorces us.”

“I know how to deal with her.” I cough indignantly.

“Locking her in her room isn’t dealing with her.”

I scowl. “Don’t exaggerate.”

Ava laughs. It’s condescending. She better wind her neck in or she’ll be heading for a Retribution Fuck. “You threatened it just the other day.”

I can’t believe that I have to explain myself for the hundredth time. “Ava, she had on a pair of denim shorts that would have fit a Barbie doll. And she plans on going to the school party in them?” I laugh at the thought. “It isn’t happening. Not while I’m alive.”

My wife rolls her eyes. “They weren’t that bad.”

“She’s eleven!”

“She’s becoming a young lady.”

“She’s becoming a pain in my fucking arse, that’s what she’s becoming.” Or a bigger one.

“You’re being way over the top, Jesse.”

Over the top? I don’t think I am at all. “Ava, last week when I picked her up, some dirty little pervert was practically drooling over her as she walked from the school gates to my car.” I feel the blood begin to boil in my veins, just recalling the incident. Had a fucking traffic warden not moved me from the restricted parking zone, I would have been out of my car and across the street faster than a roadrunner.

She smirks at me. “A dirty little pervert?”

“Yes. He’s lucky I didn’t shove his head down his pants so he couldn’t ogle my daughter.”

“And how old was this dirty little pervert?”

“I don’t know.” I brush her question aside, knowing exactly where we’re heading here.

“I do.” Ava laughs again, half-amused, half-exasperated. “He’s eleven, Jesse. Just like Maddie. His name is Kyle and he’s in Maddie’s class. He has a crush, that’s all.”

I snort and head for the fridge. “He’s a pervert,” I state with utter finality, daring her to continue the discussion as I rummage through the top shelf looking for my Sun-Pat peanut butter. But I should know my defiant little temptress by now. And she dares to continue.

“Jacob has a crush on a girl,” Ava says casually. I turn away from the fridge, seeing her collecting the jars of peanut butter off the counter and moving over to the cupboard. My boy has a crush? The only crush he has that I know of is a crush on football. The kid’s mad for it. “Does that make your boy a pervert?”

My lips twist as I return to the fridge and continue searching for my comfort food. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because our children are growing up and you need to let them do that. Maddie’s going to the school party, and you are not chaperoning her. It isn’t cool to take your dad.”

“She isn’t damn well going without me,” I snap, slamming the fridge door. “Where’s my fucking Sun-Pat?” I swing around and find my wife holding out a new jar, her eyebrows high and knowing.

I swipe it from her grasp without so much as a thank-you and whip off the lid. My finger goes in, sweeps around the edge, and I plunge the big dollop into my mouth, still scowling at my wife, who is now shaking her head in dismay. She can shake her head all she likes. My daughter isn’t going to the school party without me, and she definitely isn’t going in those denim shorts.

“Where is Maddie, anyway?” I ask Ava’s back, not missing the opportunity to relish the sight of her arse. That arse. I want to bite it.

“She’s waiting for her daddy to get home so she can butter him up.”

“Butter me up how?”

“Daddy!” Maddie’s squeal of delight—a totally fake squeal, it should be noted—stops my questioning in its tracks. Oh no. She called me Daddy. Not Dad. I just know the puppy-dog eyes are coming.

I do the wisest thing I can. I put down my peanut butter and edge out of the kitchen without making eye contact. I’ll be fucked. Screwed.

“I need to get changed.” I bomb out of the door, hearing Maddie in pursuit.

“Daddy, wait!”

“I have things to do,” I call behind me as I race up the stairs, catching a glimpse of her long chocolate hair bouncing over her shoulders as she chases after me. “Speak to Mum.”

“Mum said I needed to speak to you!”

I just make it to the top when I feel something around my ankle. “Fuck!” I lose my footing and trip up the top step, crashing down to the carpet in a heap.

“Daddy, watch your mouth!”

“Maddie, for crying out loud!”

“Then don’t run away from me, and face up to your responsibilities.”

“Excuse me?” I roll over to my back and sit up, finding my girl lying across the final few steps of the staircase, her small hand still wrapped around my ankle, her head tilted far back to look up at me. She’s already fluttering her lashes, the little minx. “My responsibilities?”

“Yes.” She releases my foot and pushes herself to her feet, and I only mildly register that she has on jeans and a jumper. Long jeans and a long-sleeved jumper. This should please me, yet it doesn’t. Because this is my little live wire of a daughter, and she’s a little fucker when she wants to be. Like, all the time. And like now when I know she’s only covered from top to toe because, in the words of her mother, she’s trying to butter me up. It won’t work.

Maddie sighs, shaking her head at me. “Dad—”

“Oh, so it’s Dad now, is it?”

Her jaw tightens, and she looks at me in a way that only her mother can rival. Like she could cut off my dick with her glare. “It’s not fair! All my friends are going, and their parents are okay with it. Why do you have to be the one to ruin all the fun?”

“Because I love you,” I mutter, getting to my feet. “Because I know there are some idiot boys out there who will want to kiss you.” What the fuck am I saying? The fact that my girl would probably rip off the balls of any potential kisser, probably better than even I could, is beside the point. It’s my job to protect her.

“And stalk me,” she retorts, making me recoil.

“What do you mean?” I don’t like the smug look on her face. The look that suggests she has dirt on me. I narrow my eyes on her, waiting for it.

“Like you stalked Mum.”

I gasp. “I didn’t stalk your mother. I pursued her.”

“She said it’s the same thing, especially when the pursuing is done at Jesse Ward’s level of pursuing.”

“It’s…no…she…” I huff and turn, marching to the master suite. I’m not arguing with a eleven-year-old. “Your mother loved me stalking her,” I snap over my shoulder.

“You said you pursued her.”

“Same thing.” I slam the door to our dressing room behind me and yank my T-shirt over my head. “The girl will be the death of me,” I mumble, chucking it in the wash basket.

Maddie barges in, forcing my hands to pause on the fly of my leathers. “I’m going to the party without you, and I will wear what I like.”

“You are not going.” I just manage to hold back my bad language. “End of.”

“You’re so mean!” she yells, her cheeks flushed with anger.

“I know!” I shove my hands into the waistband of my leathers, ready to push them down. “Are you scramming? Because I’m about to get naked.”

Her pretty little face screws up in utter disgust. “Ewwww.” She makes a hasty exit, leaving me looking down at my torso. Ewwww? The fucking cheek. I might be fifty soon, but I’m still fucking prime. Ask my wife. And every other woman on the planet. Ewwww?

I kick off my leathers and drop to the floor, smashing out fifty press-ups, muttering and cursing as I do. I should have stayed at the health club.

After yanking on some clean shorts, I turn to head downstairs, noticing a pile of clean laundry on the bed. I do what any decent husband would do: I gather it up and go back to the dressing room to put it away. I place my socks and boxers in the designated drawers, leaving me with a pile of Ava’s knickers in my palm. I grin at the stacks of lace, unable to stop myself from bringing them to my nose and inhaling the clean smell of laundry mixed with Ava’s lingering scent. I hum and close my eyes, planning tonight’s intimate time. I see a Sense Fuck in the not too distant future. I’ll make my wife see that it would be most unwise for us to let Maddie go to the school party without a chaperone.

“Dad?”

I swing around and find Jacob hovering at the doorway. His handsome face is quite alarmed. “Oh, hey.” I quickly pull the lace away from my nose and smile awkwardly.

“Are you smelling Mum’s knickers?”

I laugh like a twat, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. My kids do fuck all for my ego. “Just checking they’ve been washed,” I say, turning my back on him and opening Ava’s knicker drawer.

“You’re weird sometimes, Dad.” Jacob sighs from behind me, and I cringe, but my cringe turns into a frown when I spot something in the corner of Ava’s drawer. It’s not the something that’s the problem. It’s the fact that it’s in a different corner from this morning. I snarl at the diamond-embellished vibrator, or the Weapon of Mass Destruction, as my wife likes to call it, and slowly push the drawer closed. She isn’t wrong. It does destroy. It destroys my fucking ego. Has she been using it without me? Giving her pleasure to a fucking machine?

Casting my grievance aside, just for now, I turn toward my boy. “What’s up, mate?” I ask, wandering over to him and throwing my arm around his shoulders, walking us out of the dressing room.

“One of my friends from school, Sonny, has invited me to Old Trafford with his parents to watch United. They’re playing Arsenal. Can I go?”

I smile to myself, looking down at Jacob as he looks up at me, all hopeful and with a little worry. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking that football is our thing, and I might not like him doing it with someone else. I take him training, I watch every match, I make a monthly point during the football season of a boys’ day out, just me and him. All boys’ stuff, where there are no women driving us nuts. “Sure you can.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

I lean down and sink my face into his mop of dirty blond hair. My boy. My beautiful, laid-back boy. “Hey,” I say, releasing him from my clinch when something comes to me. “Mum mentioned something about a crush.” I raise my eyebrows in question.

Jacob rolls his eyes and makes his way to his bedroom. “I don’t have a crush, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell Mum.”

I grin. “Playing it cool, eh?” That’s my boy.

“What, like you did with Mum?” He turns and catches me scowling. And another head shake. “I’m going to polish my trophies.” He disappears into his bedroom, leaving me on the landing.

I zoom back to the dressing room, grab her vibrator, and head back out. A quick check of Maddie’s room tells me she’s sulking on her bed and will be lost in her mood for a good hour. A quick check of Jacob’s room tells me he’s already lined up his football trophies and will be lost in polishing those for at least two hours.

I hurry downstairs, brandishing Ava’s vibrator like a sword in front of me. “How many times do we need to go over this?” I ask, entering the kitchen. “All of your pleasure comes from me.”

I come to a screaming halt when I find that my wife isn’t alone. Oh shit.

“Elizabeth!” I yelp, my hand frozen in midair.

“Oh…my…God,” she breathes, looking at Ava in question. My wife’s face is a picture of horror.

“Oh…” The vibrator glows at me, and I rush to hide it behind my back. “Always nice to see you, Mum.”

Elizabeth sighs, turning to her daughter and kissing her cheek. “I’ll call before I drop by next time, darling.”

“Good idea,” Ava mutters, her horrified face turni