Ford leans down to delicately kiss my inner knee. “So damn beautiful.”
The feeling of my cheeks blushing doesn’t faze me; I’m far too familiar that this man electrifies my body.
In a swift movement, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of my panties without moving my skirt up, and it wouldn’t matter, as his eyes stay fixed on me. Ford yanks the wet material down my legs, and my feet move to slide them off easily. He throws the wet fabric to the side.
My heart races for what comes next.
Ford holds his finger up, indicating for me to wait a second.
“Now you want to wait?” I tease.
He ruefully shakes his head and walks to his closet on the side, leaving me splayed out on his bed. I can’t see from my angle, but he disappears into the closet and remerges with clothes.
Coming to the bed, he throws a hoodie and boxers at me.
“We need to get you warm.”
My jaw drops, completely shocked by this change. “W-what?” I stutter.
Ford crawls onto the bed and cages me underneath him. I hate when he has a look that informs the world that he won.
“Oh, trust me, I’m ready to break this mattress and rip every sheet in this house for the way we need to seal this reunion.”
“Then what’s the damn problem?” I’m stunned.
He leans down to breathe near my ear before placing a kiss in that sensitive spot above my neck. “I have to wine and dine you first.”
“No. No, you don’t,” I answer blankly. “I volunteer as tribute. Take me. Now. Here. Any way you want.”
Ford blows out a breath, clearly trying to contain himself. “Good to know for future reference.” He propels himself off the bed, and he has a glimmer in his eye, that victorious smirk never fading. “Babe, get dressed,” he orders before he disappears again into his closet. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
I prop myself up on my elbows. “What?”
He ducks out of the door mid shirt coming on. “Trust me.”
I fall back on the bed, defeated.
He leaves me there, completely frustrated yet curious and amused as to what the hell wine and dine means.
9
FORD
Glancing up from pouring white wine into a glass that rests on the kitchen counter, I notice Brielle walking into the room in only my hoodie and nothing else. I have to do a double take for many reasons—one, how magnificent she looks in my clothes, especially with a sexy look gracing her face. Mostly, I’m watching her stride into my kitchen because I’m amazed that I kept restraint upstairs, and now too, as the sweater hits her knees but leaves enough for the imagination.
But we are a long game, and I need to take my time with her.
Everything is now happening, one domino after another.
“I’ve poured you a glass.” I slide the drink to the edge of the counter where Brielle parks her cute behind on a stool. She’s already curling the fabric over her hands because my hoodie drowns her.
Brielle looks at me skeptically. “Right, wining and dining me, because suddenly you have an inkling to go old-fashioned.”
I grin to myself before I lean over to capture her mouth for a kiss, one that she willingly gives.
“Quick, hard, and to the point wouldn’t have sufficed, baby. And once we get naked later, then we are not leaving my bed,” I warn her.
She takes the glass between her fingers, leans back, and hums a sound. “You mention later. I’m not so sure you should assume,” she taunts.
