Katie Price reveals all about her turbulent love life and nerves before birth to baby Bunny in shocking new book Reborn

KATIE Price bares all in her amazing new autobiography Reborn, which is serialised in this weekend’s Sun on Sunday.

Now a mum of five and married to third husband Kieran, her life has changed beyond recognition from her early fame as Page Three glamour model Jordan 20 years ago.

Now 38, Katie admits struggling to go over everything that has happened to her in recent years. She says, “It’s raw, heartbreaking and true.”

Here, in our first extract, she tells of the hard lessons she learned during an affair with married Mr X . . .

Mr X got in touch with Katie after seeing a snap of her with trainer Rhino

THERE’S one relationship I’ve never spoken about openly.

At the end of 2011, I flew to LA for a round of business meetings with managers and film executives.

I was determined to stay in shape so I asked my PA to hook me up with a trainer.

Mark Smith, aka Rhino in the ITV series Gladiators, was a real blast from the past.

During our final workout, Mark tweeted a picture of us. One of his high-profile friends texted him, saying he had seen the snap and was dying to meet me.

I didn’t know much about the guy other than he was a media personality, and asked Mark to bring his picture up on Google.

I recoiled immediately. “Ooh, he’s definitely not my type!” I said.

He wasn’t the dark, tanned sort I usually fall head over heels for. Still, he could be a laugh, and he’s interested in me, I thought.

This guy had his own money and his own success. “Was he single?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Mark. “Perfect! Give him my number.” Well, there’s no harm in texting . . .

By now you’re probably wondering why I haven’t given this man a name. The truth is, I’ve decided not to. Let’s call him Mr X.

After all that happened later on, he deserves to be exposed but I’m not a kiss-and-tell person and there’s a family involved.

But if this man has any balls he’ll admit the affair. He was very direct, which I like in a man.

“We’ve got to meet,” he kept texting, and no sooner had one message arrived than it felt like another had landed.

Somehow, I found myself agreeing to see him only hours after I got back in the UK.

I recall thinking it was strange he insisted on coming to my house. “He’s keen!” I thought and sure enough, as I was slapping concealer around my jet-lagged eyes, his sports car was pulling up in the drive.

In the flesh I instinctively knew I wasn’t deeply attracted to Mr X but there was something intriguing about him.

And I’m a sucker for a fit pair of legs and a muscular chest, and he had those in spades.

Even so, I caught myself thinking, “Kate, why are you letting this man through your front door and into your life so quickly?”

We talked and ended up kissing on my silver sofa. On that occasion he left disappointed, but those texts kept on coming.

He said everything to make me think he was into me. His low, soft voice was hypnotic, and he knew how to make me feel special. But our first kiss? Hmmm.

The sparks didn’t fly. I couldn’t put my finger on it. There was something clinical about it. Maybe he’s a dark horse, I decided.

Sadly, I was soon to discover that he wasn’t hiding anything. That same emotional detachment continued when we eventually ended up falling into bed together.

Put it this way: If I’d needed a shelving unit erected, he’d have been perfect. Instead of handling me gently and passionately like most women want, he was like a cordless drill on a multi-speed setting!

He reminded me of a red Bosch that I have in my garage.

Bang . . . bang . . . bang, bang, bang. At one point I panicked, thinking, “S***, if he doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to be permanently attached to the bed!”

My heart sank. Mr X wasn’t having sex with me, he was having sex at me.

As proceedings ended abruptly I questioned silently: “What about my pleasure?” We cuddled briefly but I felt confused.

After all that build up, didn’t he fancy me? Didn’t he want to make me happy? Or did he want the sex to be over and done with as quickly as possible?

Almost straight away, I discovered why he was so — how can I describe it? — efficient.

He couldn’t stay. He had a wife he claimed to be divorcing but they had three kids together. Inside I was squirming.

“Oh, f****** hell, Kate, what have you got yourself into?” I thought. I could’ve kicked myself, and Mark for that matter, for playing up Mr X’s “single” status.

Mr X was in the throes of a divorce, but there was a large part of me that was convinced he would have played away even if he’d been in the perfect relationship.

During the four months or so that we saw each other he was friendly and we had fun together, but in the bedroom he was nothing more than businesslike.

Unnervingly, he seemed able to separate the physical from the emotional in a single heartbeat.

It didn’t take long for our meetings to become predictable.

We’d get together. I’d listen patiently while Mr X moaned about his marriage. We’d have detached sex. Then he’d come up with some bulls*** excuse that usually involved his family.

“Hang on,” I started to think, “I’m basically your f****** agony aunt, helping you through your marriage break-up, giving you all the love and attention you need. And what do I get? Screwed! Literally.”

It’s probably why, when Leo reappeared in the UK, I took him up on his offer to meet again.

I was caught between two men. A boost for any girl’s ego, sure.

Katie had had an on-off relationship with Leo — Argentinian model Leandro Penna — from early 2011 until October 2012.

I decided I wouldn’t be hurting anyone if I carried on dating both, to see what happened. Then Mr X did something to make me realise how little he cared about me.

One night we stayed with each other at a London hotel. A bit later, I got a text from my manager who was in a meeting in a Mayfair hotel. “You’re not going to like this, but guess who I’ve seen walking in?” he wrote.

It was Mr X. He’d sauntered in draped around another woman.

Suddenly, all trust I’d put in Mr X melted away. If he can do that to me, I thought, maybe he isn’t divorcing his wife. Maybe he is just a player.

Sex to him seemed like a drug, something he couldn’t get enough of regardless of who he was with.

He just loved the chase. That was the end of me and Mr X.

However, Leo discovered emails on my computer and went into a jealous rage. I explained to Leo that the relationship with Mr X had fizzled out.

However, in a mad coincidence we all ended up in Paris together a couple of months later. It was a full-time job keeping a lid on Leo’s uncontrollable temper.

Paris is supposed to be the city of love but quite frankly, by the end of that trip, I would have loved it if Leo and Mr X had both stayed there — together!

A couple of nights into the trip all three of us were in the same restaurant. Leo kicked off when I gave a gent I’d been talking to a kiss on the cheek.

In front of everyone Leo grabbed me by the neck and slapped me. Mr X saw the drama unfold but didn’t rush to help.

The next day we were due to travel home but I wasn’t even sure I’d make the train. I did, by a whisker, and Mr X and I ended up sitting next to each other.

I’d like to say the conversation was scintillating, but I was so jittery that I was barely able to speak.

Then, before we reached London, he leaned over and whispered something in my ear that floored me. “I liked you, but I didn’t like you that much,” he said.

I said nothing but, seriously, I had to bite my lip. “You cocky f*****!” I thought.

“You were happy to tell me how much you liked me before you f***** me. How dare you make me feel so s***!”

I quietly raged in the queue through Customs. As soon as I got in the taxi with my friends I fired off an angry text.

“You arrogant t***,” I wrote. Not only had he never bought me anything, but I reminded him he had never once satisfied me in all the times we’d slept together. “And, by the way, did he know I’d shagged one of his mates?”

Finding out about his friend must have been the final straw for Mr X.

Aha, so there’s one rule for you and one rule for everyone else, I figured.

The journey back from Paris was the last I ever heard from him, and I had absolutely no interest in contacting him.

When I heard he’d finally divorced and remarried, I thought “good luck” but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for his new wife.

Not long after, his ex-wife got in touch with me and asked if we’d been seeing each other. I held my hands up.

I felt horribly like “the other woman” even though, like his wife, I’d been taken in by Mr X. We actually ended up texting, like some first wives’ club.

But, unlike her, I thanked my lucky stars I could close the door on Mr X without any deep emotional or family ties.

Bumpy times

HERE Katie tells how she gave birth to Bunny in August 2014.

Kieran hadn’t been in theatre with me when Jett was born. The night before my C-section, we were kept awake by women screaming. ‘Is that for real?’ he asked.

‘Kieran, that’s the sound of real pain!’ I said, forcefully.

Apart from the noise I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about the needles they’d want to stick into me.

The next day I felt petrified but excited too. We had to wait an hour for another C-section so I got Kieran to take pics of me in my gown and stockings.

Extracted from REBORN by Katie Price, to be published by Century on September 22 at £20. Copyright © Katie Price 2016