Emzee
Chapter 15
At two in the morning, we finally left the club. Ford and I slid into the back seat of the car he’d called to take us home, the plan being that I’d get dropped off first and then the driver would take Ford to his place.
I knew all our friends would assume we’d be going home together—that was the whole point of leaving in the same car, of course—which would keep up appearances and ensure this whole charade continued looking legit.
Friends.
I supposed I’d be seeing a lot more of them now. No doubt we’d all be getting together on the regular. Going out. Getting drunk. Having fun. It hadn’t exactly been fun for me personally, though I had enjoyed dancing with Ford…but then again, it hadn’t been as bad as I’d thought it would be. Hopefully it would all start to feel more natural as time went on. Maybe I’d actually feel like I was part of the group, instead of the awkward outsider that Ford was forcing his friends to be nice to.
Truthfully, it had taken me a while to warm up to Tori and Brooklyn, too. I’d never been the kind of person who opened up easily. Yet another residual scar from all the bullying I experienced at school.
I leaned back against the seat as Ford gave the driver our addresses. I was tired and more than a little drunk and after all that dancing, my feet were killing me. My boots were great to look at, but they were murder on my toes. I couldn’t wait to get home and take them off.
But I also knew that Ford and I had some unfinished business.
Ever since I’d overheard the tail end of that conversation Ford had been having with his friend at the VIP table earlier, I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was going on behind my back. So the second the driver rolled up the tinted glass partition, creating a quiet little cocoon in the back seat, I turned to Ford to confront him.
He was slouching, leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed. Obviously tired, and probably more than a little tipsy still—but maybe those things would help me get my answers.
“What was that thing you guys were talking about earlier?” I asked him.
“Hmm?” His eyes were still closed.
Part of me thought about just letting it go, letting the evening go down as a success without poking Ford to answer a question that maybe I didn’t even really want answered.
But I also knew that if we were going to do this (and it didn’t really seem like we had any other choice, now that everyone in our lives thought we were getting married), I needed Ford to know he couldn’t just hide stuff from me and get away with it.
“The conversation I overheard when I got back from the bathroom,” I said. “When your friend was like, ‘Does Emzee know?’ What was that all about?”
“My dick,” he said, looking at me now. “I told you that.”
There was a smile playing on the corner of his lips and it was impossible not to be a little charmed by the whole thing, but still, I pushed.
“That wasn’t it,” I said, though I was pretty sure it did have something to do with sex.
My suspicion was only reinforced when he grabbed my hand and gave me a wicked grin.
“You know I have to save a few secrets for the honeymoon, Em,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, but my heart was hammering in my chest at the thought of it. “We’re not a real couple, remember?” I reminded him. “The honeymoon is just for show.”
“That’s not what our friends think,” Ford said.
“Fair enough. But while we’re on the topic…” I shifted to face him, my knee up on the seat between us, the hem of my dress inching higher.
I saw Ford’s eyes dart to where all that skin was showing, and felt a little thrill at the heat I saw in his gaze. I cleared my throat and he looked back up at me.
“Why the hell do you keep making all those sex jokes?”
Ford shifted, a more serious expression crossing his face. “I think the real question is, why does me talking about sex make you so uncomfortable?” he said. “It’s an honest question.”
He put his hand on my knee, the heat from his palm, spreading through me like a fire.
“I don’t know,” I said, looking away.
“I think I know why. In fact, I’d bet money on it,” Ford said, his thumb drawing a slow, sexy circle on the inside of my knee.
