Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
One hand plucked my nipple, the other had two fingers inside me as he sucked and licked and tasted. I slapped my palm over my own mouth as a scream rose inside me. It was so much, so fast, and it felt so good. I came in a rush, gasping his name and then just gasping as I melted into the sheets.
“Ford,” I murmured. I cracked an eye open and met his smug, satisfied smile. I was pretty sure the one on my face was a match. I was feeling pretty smug myself. Propping up on an elbow, I reached for him. “What about—”
“Not tonight,” he said. “Tonight, this is what I wanted.” The side of his mouth curved. “No, that’s a lie. Tonight, I wanted to tell you all the reasons this couldn’t happen.”
“And now?”
He just shook his head. Sliding an arm under my back, he turned me on the mattress, tucking the sheets and blanket around me.
I reached up to grab his wrist. “Stay,” I said softly. “Just for a little. Stay.” My head was still spinning, my body aglow. I wasn’t ready to be alone, wasn’t ready for him to leave.
Fabric rustled and he slid in beside me—not naked, in boxers, I guessed—and hooked an arm around my waist, turning me onto my side exactly as I usually slept, though he couldn’t have known that. His body fit against mine, his skin a little damp, his breath warm against my ear. I stretched, rolling my ass against the tempting bar of his erection.
He let out a low groan and pressed his mouth to the side of my neck. “Next time.” Ford let out a long breath and sat up just enough to look into my eyes. “I want you to promise me something.”
“Maybe,” I breathed, sleep creeping up on me.
“Stay at Heartstone until this guy takes the bait. Don’t leave the Manor grounds. He saw you with me. I don’t want you to be a target.”
“What if it takes a long time?” I asked.
“How about just for now? Can you promise me that?”
“I have to talk to Griffen and Hope first. Part of my job is driving the kids around.” I heard what I’d said and hated the thought that sprang into my mind. “Do you think the kids are safe with me?”
“I’ll talk to Griffen,” he said. “We’ll figure something out.”
“If he thinks it’s safer, I’ll stay on the Manor grounds. But I need a promise too.”
“Hmm?” he asked, his breath warm on my ear, sounding as if he too teetered on the edge of sleep.
“We don’t tell anyone about this, okay? It’s just between us,” I said, my words starting to slur with fatigue and the release from a truly amazing orgasm. “It’s our secret. I don’t want things to get complicated.”
“Our secret.” His lips brushed the shell of my ear. “Promise.”
Chapter Eleven
FORD
Ishould have had my eyes on the road and my mind on driving home after yet another closing shift at Sawyers Bend Brewing. Instead, all I could think about was Paige and what had happened between us the previous night.
I wasn’t coming home to her after a long day of work, because that was way too domestic for whatever was going on between us. But I couldn’t deny that was what it felt like.
I liked tending bar in the taproom at Sawyers Bend Brewing, and I didn’t mind the closing shift. Avery didn’t keep the taproom open late, and while she did a steady business, it was never jammed. But these last few days waiting for Haywood’s assassin to strike were wearing on me. I wasn’t used to the stress of being the bait in a sting operation. I’d been an executive. I wasn’t in law enforcement. The closest I’d come was my brief stint as a felon.
I just wanted to catch the guy and maybe think about what came next, after we found my father’s killer. After this was over.
A doubting whisper in my heart asked if it would ever be over, or if I was due for a lifetime of purgatory. I hadn’t felt hope in a long time—not since Finn had barely escaped the kidnapping with his life, and I’d faced the man I’d become. Since then, I’d been trying to make amends, but I was aware it was too little, too late.
And then last night, Paige listening as I laid it out. I had expected her face to twist in disgust, that she’d throw me out of her room, and that would be the end—and it would have been right if she did. I’d convinced myself it was what I deserved, and that she deserved so much better than the washed-up, morally bankrupt, underemployed black sheep of the Sawyer family.
Instead, she’d listened without judgment, had understood when I spoke about my father. She’d given me empathy but not pity, been kind, but hadn’t let me wallow. It was exactly what I’d needed.