Unable to resist, I reach forward and run my thumb down his stubbled cheek and onto his parted lips, smiling as he twitches a little, and then sighs and settles again, his hand on my belly unconsciously starting to circle. The flawlessness of his beautiful face will amaze me until the day I die—his lightly tanned skin, his almost girly long lashes, the faint crease across his brow. It would take me a lifetime to run through all his stunning features. My devastating man, in all of his challenging ways.

My wandering hand float across his face, my fingertip traces the taut flesh of his throat and my palm skims his solid chest. I sigh, all dreamy and content as I spend this quiet time exploring his body and face, almost wishing that he could stay like this for an eternity so I can watch him and feel him undisturbed. But then I’d never hear that voice, I would never see those eyes, and I would never experience his trampling or countdowns.

‘Have you finished feeling me up?’ His rough voice drags me from my daydreaming, my hand pausing on his scar. His eyes remain closed.

‘No, just be still and silent.’ I order quietly, carrying on with my fondling.

‘Anything you say, lady.’

I grin and lean forward, hovering my lips over his. ‘Good boy,’

His closed lids flicker and the corners of his mouth are blatantly restraining a smirk. ‘What if I want to be a bad boy?’ he asks.

‘You’re talking,’ I point out, and one of his eyes opens cheekily. Nothing will prevent me from smiling at that face, no matter how stern and serious I’m attempting to be. ‘Morning.’

He moves too fast. I’m on my back and pinned under his body in a nanosecond, my arms held over my head. I don’t even have time to register his attack or let out a squeal of shock. ‘Someone has sleepy sex on their mind.’ he muses, leaning down to nibble my nose.

‘No, I have Jesse Ward on my mind, which means I also have various degrees of fucking’s on my mind.’

His eyebrows rise slowly, thoughtfully. ‘You’re insatiable, my beautiful girl.’ He kisses me hard. ‘Watch your mouth.’

I quickly return his kiss, but he halts me by pulling away. I scowl. He smiles. It’s that smug smile. I scowl harder, but I’m ignored. ‘I’ve been thinking.’ he declares.

My scowl falls away immediately. Jesse thinking is almost as worrying as him trampling all over the place. ‘What about?’ I ask suspiciously.

‘About how dramatic our married life has been.’

I can’t argue with that ‘Okay,’ I drag the word out slowly, meaning I’m not sure it’s okay at all.

‘Let me take you away,’ He’s begging. His green eyes are pleading with me, and now he’s pouting, too. Is he beginning to realise that this face has just as much impact as a sense fuck? ‘Just us two on our own.’

‘We’ll never be alone ever again.’ I remind him.

He lifts and glances down at my stomach, and I see him smile and shift down to kiss my tummy before returning those puppy dog eyes to mine. ‘Let me love you. Let me have you to myself for a few days.’

‘What about my job?’ My commitment recently has been really questionable.

‘Ava, you were in a car accident yesterday.’

‘I know,’ I concede. ‘But I have appointments and Patrick is…’

‘I’ll sort Patrick.’ He cuts me straight off. ‘He’ll deal with your appointments.’

My eyes narrow. ‘Sort Patrick or trample Patrick?’ I ask. He pulls that hurt face. I’m not buying it.

‘I’ll speak to Patrick.’

‘Delicately.’

He grins. ‘-ish.’

‘No, Ward. No –ish about it. Delicately. End of!’

‘Is that a yes?’ he asks hopefully. I could cuddle him, the adorable pain in the arse that he is.

‘Yes,’ I agree. He needs the break just as much as I do, probably more. Yesterday’s events will not help his worrying. ‘Where are we going?’

He springs into action, jumping up from the bed like an excited child on Christmas morning. ‘Anywhere, I don’t care.’

‘I do! I’m not skiing!’ I sit bolt upright in bed at the very thought of being kitted out in padded ski wear with some giant planks of wood attached to my feet.

‘Don’t be stupid, woman.’ He rolls his eyes and disappears into the wardrobe—or rather, the room we call our wardrobe—appearing moments later with a suitcase. ‘You’re carrying my babies in there.’ He points to my stomach. ‘You’re lucky I’m not chaining you to the bed for the rest of this pregnancy.’

‘You can if you like.’ I hold my wrists against the headboard. ‘I won’t complain.’

‘You’re a temptress, Mrs Ward. Come pack.’ He goes back into the wardrobe, leaving me hanging on the bed. On a grumble loud enough for him to hear, I shuffle to the edge and follow him. He’s pulling down clothes haphazardly and chucking them into a pile by the case.

‘Where are we going?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll make a few calls.’ He’s happily packing his case, but then he looks up at me where I’m leaning on the door frame. ‘Aren’t you going to pack?’

‘Well, I don’t know where I’m going. Hot, cold? Car, plane?’

‘Car.’ he asserts firmly, turning to reach for more t-shirts. ‘You can’t fly.’

‘What do you mean, I can’t fly?’ I blurt to his back.

‘I don’t know. Cabin pressure.’ His naked shoulders shrug. ‘It might squish the babies.’

I laugh because if I don’t, I might bash him around the head instead. ‘Tell me you’re joking.’

He slowly turns to face me. He’s not impressed by my humour. It’s written all over that bloody perfect face. ‘I don’t joke when it comes to you, Ava. You should know that.’

He’s being ridiculous. ‘Cabin pressure won’t squish our babies, Jesse. If you’re taking me away, then you’re taking me on a plane.’ I very nearly stamp my foot to assert my order.

He looks a little shocked by my demand, and he slips into thought, munching his lip, the cogs slowly starting to kick into action. ‘It’s not safe for pregnant women to fly.’ he says quietly. ‘I’ve read about it.’

‘Where have you read about it?’ I ask on a laugh, fearing he’s about to produce some sort of Guide to Pregnancy manual. I stop laughing immediately when he reaches between his suits and produces a Guide to Pregnancy manual.

‘In here.’ He holds it up sheepishly. ‘You should also be taking folic acid.’

I gape at the book being dangled in front of me and watch with a mixture of astonishment and amusement as he starts flicking through the pages. There are pages folded over at the corners, and I think I even see a glimpse of a passage highlighted with a neon pen. He knows what he’s looking for, and I can do nothing more than stand and stare as my beautiful, neurotic control freak finds it.

‘Here, look.’ He shoves the book under my nose and points to the centre of the page, where a section has been highlighted in neon pink. ‘The Department of Health recommends that women should take a daily supplement of four hundred micrograms of folic acid while they are trying to conceive, and should continue taking this dose for the first twelve weeks of pregnancy when the baby’s spine is developing.’ He frowns. ‘But we have two babies, so maybe you should take eight hundred micrograms.’