Jesse POV 

from This Man (Book #1)

THIS MAN SERIES

by

JODI ELLEN MALPAS

  

SYNOPSIS

Young interior designer Ava O’Shea has an appointment for a first consultation at The Manor with the

owner, Mr Jesse Ward. She is expecting nothing more than an overweight, cravat wearing, well-to-do

countryman, and on arrival, nothing would suggest otherwise. How wrong could she be? This Man is

devastatingly handsome, charming and confident. He is also a conceited, hedonistic playboy, who knows

no boundaries. Ava desperately does not want to be attracted to him, but she can’t control the

overwhelming affect he has on her. Every instinct is telling her to run, so she does, but Jesse Ward is not

so willing to let her go. He wants her and is determined to have her. She knows she is heading for

heartbreak, but how can she run when he won’t let her?

 

JESSE POV – When Jesse Met Ava 

I reach up and yank my tie loose. Shit, I need a drink. Glancing down at my Rolex, I grudgingly note it’s

only mid-day. Another hour, I can wait another hour. My office door knocks and the big guy strides in.

‘Jesse. Miss O’Shea, Rococo Union.’

‘Perfect. Thanks John.’ My voice is hoarse. I’ll get this meeting out of the way, and then I’m having a

drink. I should’ve got Sarah to deal with this.

I look up and watch as John slowly shifts. Then I nearly choke. What the fuck? I slowly rise from my chair,

fully aware that her gaze is rising with me. Is this her? Is this the woman who’s filled my new pad with

Italian shit?  Italian shit that inflated the place by another million quid? She’s young.

I start walking around my desk, her eyes still firmly set on me. Oh yes, she’s affected, but fuck me, so am

I. My legs are moving, my fucking legs are moving, but I can’t feel the damn things. I should’ve shaved.

Do I look older with stubble?

Jesus, she’s getting more beautiful the closer I get, her dark hair pinned up, her perfect little figure

screaming for me to run my hands all over it. Shit, I want to remove those pins and plunge my fingers into

those shiny locks. Her eyes. Holy shit, those fucking chocolate eyes.

Jesus, Ward, pull it together! I wonder how old she is – mid-twenties, perhaps. Too young for me? I look

good for my age – I know damn well I look good for my age. Will she think I look good? Every fucking

woman on the planet thinks I look good, so why would she be any different? She’s drinking me in,

assessing every part of me, those eyes running up and down my body. She’s mentally undressing me. I

should take my shirt off and confirm what she’s thinking. John said Miss O’Shea, didn’t he?  She isn’t

married then, not that it matters.

What the hell should I do? I know what I want to do – I want to spread her on my desk and take my sweet

time peeling that dress off, watch as those eyes smoke out and listen as her breathing falters.

Smile at her. I should smile at her. I can’t smile at her. My trusty smile is ignoring me. I’m being failed by

all of my magnet assets when I want them to work the most.

I finally convince my arm to lift, offering my hand. I’m giving her three seconds to take it before I’m moving

in.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero, baby.

I slowly lean forward and grasp her shoulders, my face going straight to the smooth, olive skin of her

cheek. Good Lord, she smells as good as she looks. I feel her tensing under my touch, and I laugh to

myself. I’ve got her. Thank the fucking Lord, I’ve got her.

‘It’s a pleasure.’ I whisper. It really fucking is, and I smile as I hear her moan. I ease up on my grip and

lower myself so I’m at her eye level. ‘Are you okay?’ I can feel my lips curving into a smile as she lifts

those stunning chocolate eyes to mine. She is so so affected.

She suddenly seems to snap out of her trance, and she steps back, my hands dropping to my side. Shit, I

need to hold her again. ‘Hi.’ She virtually coughs it out. ‘Ava, my name is Ava.’ She holds her hand out to

me.

I’ve broken out in a sweat and I’m shaking like a sad twat. I really need to stop drinking. I take her hand

and squeeze, but pull away when I’m attacked by a shocked buzz that flies up my arm and stabs at my

heart, making it suddenly buck wildly in my chest. What the fuck was that? Fuck! I have a fucking heart.

‘Ava.’ I repeat her name, it falling naturally from my lips. Oh Jesus, I need to be shouting that when I’m

hammering into her. I want to make her scream, claw at me, hold on to me.

She’s just staring at me – this painfully beautiful woman is staring at me, and damn, I think I

actually want this one more than once.

I smile on the inside. Oh yes. You are so mine, lady.

 

Jesse Ward – Lord of the Sex Manor

 

 

Totallybooked wishes to thank David Kimmerle for allowing us to use his photo in this post.

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