But then reality crashes into me like a bucket of ice water: I had sex with Asher’s best friend last night. Ford stirs awake beside me, his warm breath fanning against my skin before his lips press against the sensitive spot just below my ear. The sensation ripples through my body like electricity, making my toes curl and my breath catch. A familiar ache pools low in my belly, my skin suddenly hypersensitive where it touches his.
God, will it always be this way now that I’ve had a taste of him? I thought I wanted him before, when it was just fantasy, but now? Now the need pulses through me like a second heartbeat, almost unbearable in its intensity. But I can’t. I shouldn’t.
“It’s okay, Harper,” Ford murmurs, his voice husky and laced with sleep. “You’re not betraying him.” Of course, Ford can read my mind; he has this uncanny ability to be completely in tune with me.
I turn in his embrace and run my fingers over his beard. “I know I’m not betraying him, but it feels like I crossed a line.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear—his way of touching me without it feeling overly sexual—and rubs his nose against mine. “What line are you crossing that he hasn’t already?”
“I want to be better than him,” I whisper. It’s the truth. Whether I’m betraying Asher or not, I refuse to do to him what he did to me. I don’t want to be vindictive, even if I’ve never desired anyone the way I do Crawford Stokes.
He chuckles softly and trails his fingers along my bare arm. “Just existing makes you better than he could ever be.”
Just then, Gina walks into the room, and I quickly cover my head with the blanket. “Oh! Sorry!”
Ford laughs. “Good morning, Gina.”
“Good morning,” she replies, and I can sense her nodding in approval. Ford and Gina exchange a look that confirms what happened last night.
“How did you get in here? I locked the door,” I say from beneath the covers.
“There’s a master key. I figured I’d need to wake you, but it looks like someone else took that into his own hands. Along with other parts of you. When you’re… decent… can you come to my room?”
“Define decent,” Ford teases, and they both laugh.
The door clicks shut, and I leap out of bed. Red marks from Ford’s beard decorate my inner thighs, and I recall how he proved my theory that he’s exceptional with his tongue in more ways than just kissing.
“I could stare at you like this all day,” he says, his gaze filled with admiration. “You’re so damn gorgeous, Harper.”
I’m completely bare, my skin prickling with goosebumps in the cool morning air. His hungry gaze travels over me, lingering on the curves of my hips, the swell of my breasts. The white cotton sheet tents dramatically over his obvious arousal, and my mouth goes dry at the sight.
If only he knew how desperately I yearn to feel that connection again. To have his calloused hands gripping my thighs, to discover all the ways our bodies could meld together in countless positions. I imagine straddling him, watching his eyes darken as I take control.
With reluctance burning in my veins, I reach for my scattered clothes and dress quickly, the fabric a poor substitute for his touch.
“I should see what she needs. It’s…”
“Her party?” he suggests.
“Yeah, that.”
There was always a chance this would happen. That’s why I chose the room farthest from everyone else, except for the master suite. I dreamed of this moment in vivid flashes: Ford’s hands on my skin, his weight pressing me into the mattress, the scratch of his beard between my thighs.
But now that it’s real, guilt washes over me like a cold shower, trickling down my spine and pooling in my stomach. Guilt mixed with happiness that makes my lips curve despite myself. Satisfaction that hums in my muscles, but not quite sated—an ember still glowing, waiting to be stoked again.
I hurry past the kitchen where Lance is making breakfast, the rich aroma of coffee and sizzling bacon filling the air, and don’t bother knocking before entering Gina’s room. I close the door behind me with a soft click and take a deep breath that fills my lungs with the familiar scent of her vanilla perfume.
“Tell me everything!” she exclaims, bouncing on the bed like an excited child. “Hot dog or bratwurst?”
“Totally bratwurst. But I kind of suspected that before I even saw it.”
She squeals and kicks her feet in delight. “Ford looks like he knows what he’s doing in bed. Am I right?”
I hit the back of my head against the door and groan. “He really, really does.”
“That good?”
“Absolutely amazing.”
“Was it going to happen again when I interrupted? I’m so sorry, Harper. Go back in there and give him the ride of his life!”
