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Back This Woman Save as PDF
Chapters (44)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise For Jodi Ellen Malpas
  3. Dedication
  4. Prologue
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. About Jodi Ellen Malpas
  44. Also by Jodi Ellen Malpas

“You’re right; it’s not acceptable.” All of this is not acceptable. She needs the truth. She needs to know the real me. I hug her into my side and walk us back to the car, showering her head with kisses.

I’m no longer a man I recognize.

What I can’t fathom is whether that’s a good thing or not.

33

I’m awash with purpose, although it’s purpose of another kind. My plan has been shattered. All I can think about is getting her into my bed. Getting her under me. Worshipping every inch of her and more. My confessions are forgotten, my urgency growing the closer we get to the penthouse. She’s fidgety. Flushed. Begging for me.

I’m about to blow her world apart. Sate her need. I don’t think my heart has ever pounded so hard.

By the time we’re in the elevator, I’m set to explode, and yet I don’t get the chance to pounce. Ava beats me to it, pushing into my chest, catching me off guard. I stagger, my back slamming into the wall, and she’s on me, her mouth and hands everywhere, leading the way. And, of course, I’m with her, my fingers gripping her neck, securing her, my mouth working hers with equal energy. It’s crazy, clumsy passion, desperation embodied. This. I’ve never had this before. It’s empowering. It’s terrifying. Empowering because it gives me hope. Terrifying because I’ve lost the only people I’ve ever loved this fiercely.

“The doors,” I mumble jaggedly as her tongue swirls and stabs with mine, her hands holding my face, her whimpers and moans endless. I push my back from the wall and start moving blindly forward, as Ava steps back, unwilling to detach herself. I fumble and feel my way to the door, struggling to unlock it. “Easy,” I say, pushing at the handle. The door releases, and we fall over the threshold, a chaotic mess of bodies. It’ll take too long to get upstairs at this rate, so I pick her up, win back some control, and walk us to the kitchen.

Music. I need music. I find the control and flick on the system, then make fast work of getting her to my bedroom as Placebo’s Running up that Hill gradually builds.