There’s a quiet intimacy, the kind that makes me feel completely at ease. I shift slightly, and for a heartbeat, I feel him … aroused, pressed against my back. The realisation sends heat rushing to my cheeks, but before I can react, he clears his throat, once, then again. Then, almost imperceptibly, he adjusts his position, easing himself back just enough to create space where there had been none.
The sudden distance unsettles me. The warmth of him, the steadiness, it’s gone, and I feel exposed in the space he’s left behind. My hand drifts back, searching for him, fingers brushing his thigh again, then curling lightly around his wrist now loose around my front.
“Stormy …” His voice is low, rougher than before, like he’s trying to keep it steady and failing just a little.
I glance back at him, cheeks burning. “Oh. Uhh … I was just … trying to relax.”
He exhales a quiet huff that’s almost a laugh.
“Yeah, well … you followed that a little too well.”
I smile, but it’s tentative.
“Sorry. I just … felt safer when you were holding me.”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t speak.
I shift forward, just slightly and I feel him tense, then his fingers brush my waist, light and deliberate. Not pulling me closer. Just letting me know he’s still there.
“You’re safe, Stormy.”
I don’t say anything. I just stay there, letting the silence stretch, letting his hand rest where it is.
When we reach the cottage, Ford guides Raven as close to the door as he can and with practised ease, he jumps off the back of the horse and adjusts his jeans before holding his hand up to me.
"Let me help you down," he says.
I nod, leaning to grasp his shoulders as his hands find my waist once again. His grip is steady, warm, but as he lifts me off Raven, I feel the slightest tensing of his fingers against my skin, fleeting, but unmistakable. By the time my boots touch the damp ground, his hands have alreadyloosened, slipping away as if he’s suddenly conscious that the moment is over.
I barely have time to think about it before his eyes lower. First to my lips, then lower, down to my dress.
His eyes go wide.
And before I even process his reaction, he abruptly spins on his heels, turning his back to me.
Confused, I laugh, until I glance down at myself.
My white summer dress. White. And with the relentless rain soaking through every inch of fabric, it’s now completely sheer.
Oh.Oh.
A rush of mortification crashes over me. I don’t wear bras at the best of times, least of all with a strappy dress like this. When dry, it had been perfectly modest. Now? Not so much. I hastily wrap my arms over my chest, wanting to disappear into the ground.
Ford runs his hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at me.
I clear my throat, trying to sound normal.
"I … I think I should go inside now. Thanks for the ride."
Ford nods quickly, too quickly.
"Yeah. Right. Inside. That’s … uh … that’s probably best."
I step around Raven, pressing a grateful kiss to her damp muzzle before making a beeline for the door. As I push it shut, I can’t resist glancing through the gap, just once.
Ford is still standing there, rigid, staring at nothing, looking utterly lost in the chaos of his own thoughts.
Just as he glances back to check if I’ve gone, his gaze snags on mine. Dark, heated and charged.
