Page 151 of A Sweet Destruction

Maybe something to do with the black market, someone getting a little trigger happy over goods.

Whatever it was, I didn’t really care. As long as the story ended with Esme fucking alive, I was fine with it.

I was admittedly a little nervous about her scar, having suffered the same fate five years ago. People couldn’t help but look at you with pity, and I was already clenching up at the idea of people doing that to do her.

Enough so that Esme’s hand swept down my chest in a light stroke. “Ford, honey.” It was only then that I realized my grip on her hip had tightened, holding her flush to my side. Maybe even on top of me.

“Yes?” I asked distantly, mind still hazy with thoughts of people staring at her like she was going to break.

“Is everything okay?” Esme asked, briefly interrupted by a small giggle as I pulled her entirely on top of me.

When I turned my face into her neck, dropping a kiss right on the edge of her scar, she seemed to understand my meaning. “People might be concerned. It’s my first major injury.”

I felt a shiver run through her body when I kissed her again—my mouth had never really left her skin in the first place, just an increase of pressure—and it made me feel like the Emperor himself.

Esme must have been deep in thought, because a second later, she said, “They did the same thing with you.” Another pause, then, “Actually, you’re right. Not a big fan.”

I laughed against the side of her throat, earning another shiver.

Esme was on her back and I was halfway inside her when the knocking started.

“How does this keep happening?” I groaned against her mouth, my arms starting to shake with restraint.

“Ignore it,” Esme said, slapping her hands over my lower back and ass, trying to get me to move.

I would never deny her anything.

My brain went blissfully quiet, that low buzz I’d learned to expect from the Bond when you indulged in each other.

I was glad for it. I didn’t think I wanted its commentary as I hitched Esme’s leg higher up my hip to better the angle. I was the only one who was allowed to hear her answering gasp, caught high in the back of her throat.

The knocking, unfortunately, only got louder.

This time, I was the one to tell Esme to ignore it, finding no reason to stop kissing the curve between her neck and shoulder.

“Ford, I’m going to knock down this fucking door!” Oh, well that was Soren’s serious yell.

“One second!” I called back, before dropping my head back down to Esme’s shoulder with a groan.

Her laugh only made matters worse, then doubled down when her fingernails raked over my scalp.

“FORD!”

“Coming!” Good God, that motherfucker was needy.

“I wish we were,” Esme grumbled, making me laugh so hard I almost fell out of the bed. My chest felt too small for my heart.

It took a good amount of rearranging to make myself presentable. Esme was lounging on the bed, the sheets draping loosely over her body, which certainly didn’t help matters.

By the time I made it to the door, Soren seemed moments away from breaking it down.

“What do you—what happened?” His face was so devoid of color, it was nearly the same shade as his hair.

“Have you seen Freya?” Soren asked very, very carefully.

“What?” Esme asked desperately, suddenly appearing at my side in my sweatshirt and sweatpants.

Soren swallowed, wincing so forcefully you’d think he was trying to choke down glass. “No one can find her.”