Even in heels, he stood a good eight inches taller than me. With my height, or lack of it, I was used to feeling small. I’d grown to like it for the unexpected advantage it gave me. With Ford, I felt something else. Petite. Sheltered. Almost cherished, which was ridiculous because emotions had no place in this thing we were doing.
With his other hand, he cupped my face for a moment, his fingertips resting against my cheek. Pinning my gaze with his, watching me as if I were a collection of ingredients he was working his way through, he slid his hand into my hair and tightened his grip, anchoring me in place and making me gasp at the perfect bite of pleasure and pain.
“That’s it, beautiful,” he said when I gasped. “Open for me.” Moving slowly enough for me to stop him, he bent and caught my mouth with his, tugging gently on my bottom lip with his teeth.
I wanted to crash into him. To wrap my legs around him and ride him until we both got what we needed, but his hand in my hair kept me from doing anything but taking what he gave me. The firm press of his lips against mine, teasing licks with his tongue along my bottom lip, the delicious bite of pain as he nipped at my sensitive skin stoked the need without ever quite satisfying it. By the time he eased his hold on me, I felt soft, pliant, and almost unbearably eager.
“Take me into your home, Charlotte,” he said, his voice a warm rasp in the dimly lit street. “I want so much more of you than I can have out here.”
I nodded, not completely trusting my voice not to shake and very sure I didn’t want to give this man any more power than I already had. He shouldn’t be able to make me this out of control with just a kiss. I needed to be very careful or I’d give him more than I could afford.
He kept his arm around my waist as we walked to the front door. The gesture was intimate but not in theget me sweaty and nakedway—more in ayou’re dear to mekind of way. The way couples in love walked together. I debated stepping out of his grip, but considering the filthy things I was hoping we’d do to each other on the other side of my door, putting distance between us seemed silly. And if I was being honest, which Iwas at least with myself, I liked the way it felt to have him holding me, even in a limited way.
I opened the door and motioned him inside, half expecting him to pull me back into his arms as soon as the door closed behind us. Instead, he took a step away from me, and I watched his chest rise as he inhaled the remnant scent of the rose and vanilla candles I loved. Elena chose most of the things in my home. With my work schedule, I hadn’t had time. She’d just started her design firm, and I was happy to send her my business. I’d added a few things over the years—like the candles—but the majority of my furniture and accessories were her doing, not choices I’d made.
It never mattered to me before, but watching the focus and attention Ford paid to my home made me wish I’d had more of a hand in the things I surrounded myself with.
“You have a lovely home.” It felt like more than just an offhand comment. Like he was trying to learn about me from the things around us, adding one more unexpected thing to the night.
“Thank you. My friend Elena actually is an interior designer. Most of this is her doing.” There was that feeling again. The simultaneous wanting to be seen and wanting to stay hidden at the same time.
He nodded as if I’d solved something he’d been puzzling through and walked over to my bookcase. I fought the impulse to push ahead of him and close the doors Elena insisted I have custom built to cover the shelves crammed with books. I loved my e-reader, but I loved paper books too. I wanted both. The doors were a compromise that kept my house tidy and let me surround myself with my favorites.
“I’d offer you something to drink, but I’m afraid I don’t have much in the house.” I moved in closer to Ford, letting my hand rest on his waist, eager to move us back to the more comfortable one-night-stand territory. Having him scrutinize my things kept me on edge. That wasn’t what he was doing, exactly. I didn’t feel any judgment from him. It was more that he was trying to see everything, and I couldn’t help but feel the urge to hide.
“I’m not thirsty.” Without taking his gaze from the bookcase, he took my free hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of my palm. “You like romance novels. Jamie and Claire. Eve and Rourke. Stephanie and Ranger.”
My gaze followed his fingertips tracing the spines of my books, my pulse kicking up a notch with each pass.
“Wait. What about Morelli?” I said as his words finally made it through the haze of lust to my brain.
“She belongs with Ranger.”
“You’re unexpected.” I said the words without thinking, my temporary lack of filter emphasizing their truth. He’d shown he knew my preferences in food and cocktails, and now he was naming my favorite characters as if he knew them too. Everything about Ford was more than I’d planned on and the combination was intoxicating.
He spun around, turning his full attention on me. I forced myself to meet his gaze, needing to give him back some of the attention he’d paid to me. Wanting to know him.
“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me since we met.”
He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body along the length of mine. Pinning me with his too-perceptive gaze, he cupped my face with one hand before running his knuckles over my cheek in a gesture that managed to be tender and wake up my nerves at the same time. Taking so much time it would have been infuriating if I could manage to catch my breath, he closed the distance between us until his lips were just a breath away. When he ran his tongue along my bottom lip, I opened for him like I was some kind of lock and he held the magic key.
It was bullshit. He was a man who wanted the same thing I did—orgasms with no strings attached. It would be better if I remembered that instead of getting seduced by all the tender bits. Stretching up on my toes—even in heels, the man was so tall—I wrapped my arm around his neck, pulling him closer. Fitting my mouth to his, I deepened the kiss, urging us closer to the finish line and away from teasing that felt much too intimate for a one-night stand.
He tightened his grip in my hair, using his strength to show me how little control I had over how fast we went. Before I could protest, he bit my bottom lip, drawing it gently into his mouth, and I sighed into him. My mind might be racing toward the orgasm, but my body loved the way he teased me.
He licked along my parted lips without delving inside while I stood balanced on my toes, practically trembling in anticipation. He kissed the corner of my mouth and bit gently along my jaw, the scrape of his teeth combining with the brush of his beard to call awake every nerve ending I had. When he doubled back, it took everything I had not to groan in frustration, but I didn’t want to risk him stopping the delicious teasing. It was like some kind of fucked-up, no-man-left-behind foreplay nerve thing. He seemed determined to pay attention to every single one.
When he tugged my earlobe between his teeth, his breath warm against my skin, my calves gave out. It was the closest I’d ever come to a knee-melting moment. And then hislips found the column of my throat, and I lost the last few inches, sagging against him. His hand in my hair pulled my head to the side, baring my throat to him in a movement that felt animalistic and deliciously possessive at the same time. He wrapped his other arm around my waist, hauling me up tight against him, lifting me the last few inches until the hard ridge of his erection pressed against my sex. I reached up on my toes, feeling the stretch in my calves, every sensation adding to the heat he was building with his mouth against my throat.
He wasn’t gentle. His teeth scraped against my delicate skin, and I knew I’d feel his beard burn in the morning as a delicious reminder, but his touch was perfect, escalating my desire with something as seemingly innocuous as kisses that would barely tip the PDA scale. It didn’t matter. Everything he did worked for me. I ached to get closer to him and stopped fighting the urge, parting my legs so I could hook his thigh with my calf and pull him closer. So I could try to maneuver him to where I needed him most.
“Easy, cher.” He murmured the words with his lips pressed behind my ear, his breath hot against my sensitive skin, his voice a rumble for me to lean into. “I want time to savor you. I need it.”
If his words struck me as odd, I didn’t have time to consider it before his tongue traced a teasing trail down my neck to my collarbone. He sucked gently, enough to make me ache but not enough to leave a mark. I had the sudden irrational urge to pull him closer to demand he suck harder, that he mark me as his. It was ridiculous. I’d be furious if he gave me a hickey in a spot I’d have to cover, like we were undisciplined teenagers. It didn’t stop me from wanting it, which was one more thing I was adding to the list of things I wasn’t going to look at until much later. If ever.
––––––––
THIS WOMAN SLAYED me. She raced toward the end like orgasms were the goal, and the last one in didn’t get one. But spend just the tiniest bit of time teasing her away from her focus-driven mindset and she bloomed like a fucking flower. I was going to need somuch more than one night to figure out what she liked and how to give it to her. The hard part would be convincing her to extend our arrangement past the limit of the one-night stand she’d insisted on. I had some ideas, but the very last thing in the world I’d do was underestimate Charlotte or her iron-hard control. It had taken everything I had to figure out how to walk the line between slowing us down so I could enjoy her and pissing her off so that she decided it was too much work and retreated back to what she knew.
