He huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no humour in his eyes, just awe.
“Who’d have thought,” he says, watching me as I turn away. “This sweet girl I met, with pretty little eyes and a soft voice … has a side like this.”
I cross the room, and the sheets rustle softly as I sit on the edge of the bed. I meet his eyes.
“What can I say?” I shrug unapologetically. “I know what I want.”
Ford hesitates at the edge of the room, almost like he’s holding himself back.
“I want you to stay with me,” I say, voice a little quieter now. “Tonight, I mean. I … I want you here.”
His eyes soften, and he nods, walking over. He stops in front of me and leans down until our eyes are level. “
I’ll stay,” he says, voice low and steady. “As long as you need me.”
His fingers lift my chin, and he presses a soft kiss to my lips as if it’s a promise. I smile up at him, then ease myself back, settling against the pillows. My hand finds the towel knot at his waist, and my fingers curl around it as I tug him onto the bed.
My need for him is unparalleled, and it pulses through me like a second heartbeat. It’s consuming and quietly terrifying, but in the best way.
I undo the knot and let the towel fall loose in my hands before dropping it to the floor. He leans over me, his weight held steady on his arms, and I take him in again, every inch of him. I don’t think I’ll ever get over seeing him like this.
He's already hard, the tip glistening with a bead of anticipation, and my hand slips between us, fingers barely brushing over him. The touch is featherlight, but his whole body stiffens, a sharp inhale catching in his throat.
He leans in closer, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along the curve of my breast, then up the line of my neck, and then his teeth are tugging gently at my ear, just enough to make me shiver.
“You sure?” he whispers, voice rough now, but careful.
I nod, and my fingers tighten slightly against his skin. But he doesn’t move. His mouth is still at my ear, warm and teasing, and his voice comes low, almost a plea.
“I need to hear you say it, Stormy.”
I’ve never wanted anything so clearly. But saying it out loud makes my heart race, like I’m handing him something fragile.
Earlier, I showed him my boldness. The part of me that knows how to tease, how to take control, and how to ask for what I want with a smile and a lingering touch.
But now … I want him to see this side too.
The part that’s soft and trembles a little. That wants, just as fiercely, but isn’t afraid to be vulnerable in the wanting.
Just because I’m shy in this moment doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.
It means I trust him enough to let him see me like this.
I turn my head slightly, just enough for my lips to graze his cheek, my breath brushing his skin.
“I’m sure,” I whisper, the words trembling, thick and needy.
I can feel the heat radiating from his skin as he presses closer, his body moulding to mine like we were made to fit this way. The sensation lingers, igniting a slow-burning fire beneath my skin.
His lips grow hungrier against my neck, then claim my mouth with urgency. I tangle my fingers in his hair, anchoring myself as he sucks gently on my bottom lip, drawing a soft moan from deep in my throat.
There’s no space between us now, just warmth and want and the steady thrum of need.
His hand slides up my thigh, and the fabric of my nightdress bunches higher with every inch. His fingers ghost over my entrance, already slick, and I gasp at the contact.
Then suddenly, he pulls back.
“I need to see all of you,” he says, voice thick and low.
