This Woman Forever (This Man – The Story from Jesse #3) Read Online Jodi Ellen Malpas

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Contemporary, Drama, Erotic Tags Authors: Series: This Man - The Story from Jesse Series by Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
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“Yes, wherever.”

She laughs, and it’s a light wispy sound of utter disbelief. But she moves in, removing the lid and lifting the pen to the wall, homing in on the first picture I ever took of her. She writes, stands back for a few moments, and then searches out another image, moving in on that. Curious, I get closer to the wall so I can read her words. I breathe in. She’s not signed it. It’s so much more than that.

* * *

Today I met you.

This day was the beginning of the rest of my life.

From this moment, I was your Ava x

* * *

Fuck. I swallow down the lump in my throat, reaching for my neck and rubbing there, as Ava finishes writing on her second picture. The one I took on the docks the night she stopped fighting it.

* * *

Today I realized how in deep I was.

* * *

Jesus, I don’t think I’ll ever truly comprehend how deep I’m in. It’s fucking bottomless. Every time I think I couldn’t love her more, I wake up, and . . . I do.

* * *

And I wanted to be so much deeper with you.

* * *

I sniff discreetly, smiling to myself. There it is in black and white. A confession. She wanted to be in deep. I won’t ask her why the fuck she resisted for so long. We’re here now. Married. Pregnant.

Ava moves onto another picture, and I move with her, reading the one she’s just written on. This is fun. Way more fun than I thought it was going to be and, thank God, my wife doesn’t think I’m a weirdo.

* * *

Today I learnt that you can dance.

* * *

Yeah, baby, I can dance.

* * *

I also admitted to myself that I was in love with you, and I think I might have told you too.

* * *

Yep, she did. It was one of the most frustrating times in our relationship, especially the days that followed. She was absolutely legless.

Next.

* * *

Today I found out that I’m just for your eyes.

* * *

I snort quietly. Where is that jumper? I haven’t seen it since I forced Ava into it. I hitch a brow. Did she cut it up? I move close to one of Ava’s naked back, inhaling. That day. Fuck, it was intense.

* * *

Today I learnt that I’m for your touch and for your pleasure only.

* * *

Correct.

* * *

But my favorite part of today was when you told me that you love me.

* * *

I liked that part too. But my favorite was when I fucked a confession of love from her. Ava moves onto a picture of her in the Ritz, and I read the words by the picture of her handcuffed to the bed. The Retribution Fuck. A firm favorite, although shelved for the foreseeable.

* * *

Today I found out how old you are . . .

* * *

I scowl at the back of her head. What a horrific day.

* * *

. . . and that you don’t like being handcuffed.

* * *

Positively hate it. Onto the next. I breathe in when she moves in on an image of her on the veranda in Paradise, and she’s there a while, thinking, lifting the pen away, taking it back to the wall. Then, eventually, she moves back, clicking the lid back on.

* * *

Today I decided that you’re right. We will be okay.

And yes, I do have a bump . . . ish, and I love you for giving it to me.

I’ll always love you.

End of.

* * *

This is like my therapy wall. Everything I need to keep me going, and a massively useful tool to support me through my withdrawals when she might not be around. I start reading them again, storing them to memory, our own small love story emblazoned across my office wall.

Small story?

Epic story.

“I’m done,” she says.

I come out of my daze and find her looking up at me, a small smile on her face as she holds up the pen. I eye it, thinking. Then take it and move in on the first picture.

* * *

Today my heart started beating again, I write, feeling it now, hammering in my chest. Today you became mine.

* * *

I move away, not looking at Ava. Can’t. This wall has gone from being a lovely, decorative—slightly obsession-taming—showpiece, to our life in pictures and words. I scan the photographs, wishing I could add more now, even though there are dozens. Maybe I’ll have the wall behind my desk done too. I spot another favorite of her in her wedding dress, sitting on the lawn. I smile and move in, my teeth sinking into my lip as I draw a perfect halo-shaped circle over her head.

I refrain from adding two horns too.

My girl is definitely a perfect blend of angelic and devilish, but somehow, I don’t think she’ll agree.



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