ROSIE
“H ERE?” FORD ASKS AS I DRAG HIS INFURIATING ASS OUT OF THE EVENT .
“No. I don’t want some asshole snapping a photo of me reaming you out and running a headline about you being the World’s Most In Trouble Billionaire.”
He smirks at my response. “At least that title has a little character to it.”
Do I want to tear his head off? Yes.
Do I want to protect him at all costs? Also yes. I swear, if that blond reporter writes something mean about him, I’ll pull her extensions out.
I ignore him, hail our town car, and scoot to the opposite side.
Of course this charming idiot does what he did before and slides into the middle. I’ve always known Ford to be unapologetic and firm in his beliefs, and the way he’s reacting now is proof of that.
We ride in silence, hands on each other’s knees, the view out the window blurred by the dark night whipping past on the mostly empty roads. The minute the town car comes to a stop in front of the opulent boutique hotel, which sits on a cliff overlooking the lake, I fly out the door. The driver is flustered by not being able to open it for me, but I barge past him, the swish of silk accompanying the tapping of my heels against the brick walkway that leads to the front doors.
I hear the low mumble of Ford thanking the man, who I’m sure will go home and tell his partner about the strange couple he drove tonight. I head straight for our room without a glance back. Ford’s low chuckle as he takes long strides to catch up with me rumbles across the back of my neck. Just the sound of him makes my hair stand on end.
I’m mad at him right now, but my nipples pebble all the same.
Fucking Ford Grant.
I stop at our door, and he’s already caught up, thanks to his fitness and obnoxious height. He swaggered up while I stormed out, and he still caught me.
It’s annoying.
The veins on the top of his tanned hand catch my eye, highlighted by the midnight blue of his tuxedo jacket. He swipes the card, opens the door, and follows me in.
As soon as the door clicks shut, I spin on him. “Explain yourself.”
His tongue presses against his cheek, and he props a shoulder against the wall, unperturbed by my agitation. “What part? I told you I was going to ruin them. You told me you wanted to forget about them. All I did was follow through and respect your wishes.”
I suck in a breath, transported back to that night on the dock when all those truths spilled from my lips while tears spilled from my eyes.
He absorbed every last one.
“I thought you were just…” My hands wave around as I search for the words I want to use. “I thought you were just talking a big game.”
His head tilts in that signature Ford way, making heat pool low in my body. “That’s the problem, Rosie. You’ve spent too much time around men who talk a big game but don’t possess the will to follow through.”
I swallow and everything inside me clenches.
“Stan has been learning a very valuable lesson of late.” He takes a brief peek down at his Rolex. “In fact, your friend was right—he learned another one just a few hours ago.”
“What’s the lesson?” I ask in a hushed voice, taken aback by Ford’s brazenness. By his brutality.
“That he has no power. No pull. That everything he has is easily taken away. He’s getting a little taste of the way he made you feel.”
I’m shocked. And I wonder why. I’ve always known Ford was like this —cutting and vicious and good down to the marrow of his bones.
This vengefulness is new to me. It should upset me, but… I find myself in awe of a man who would go to such lengths for me.
He looks like a predator. With his nonchalant voice and shy demeanor, he’s one you’d never see coming. And yet here he is, a cat playing with the mouse as he kills it slowly. And I’m strong enough not to blink away.
I feel stronger than I ever have before. Even in my frustration with him I’m finding myself. Drawing lines in the sand for how I will and will not live my life. Good girl Rosie has been replaced with a version of Rosie who knows that life isn’t black and white. That people grow and change and recreate themselves.
There’s no title for this Rosie. It’s just me, stepping into a version of myself that makes me happy.
I finally have a grip on those tendrils of control I lost somewhere along the way. I can feel them weaving themselves back into my bones. I stand a little taller as the realization works its way through my body.
“How are you doing it?”
I feel good as I stare back at Ford. I feel equal to him in a way I never have. Talking about this openly makes me feel like we’re really a team. A great one.
“You really want to know?”
I roll my lips together, considering his question. Maybe it’s better if I don’t know every dirty detail. “Give me the abbreviated version. One that doesn’t implicate me.”
He nods firmly and slides his hands into his pockets. I don’t think he even realizes how beautiful he looks right now in the darkened room. The light filtering in from the window gives him an iridescent sort of glow. “I’ve recently started investing heavily in Vancouver real estate.”
My eyes bug out and my chin juts forward. “You’re buying the buildings?”
“It’s a good investment.”
My voice rises in time with my disbelief. “No, it’s not! Those high-rises have got to be worth millions! That’s ridiculous.”
I shout and he just smirks. “Tens of millions. Per building.”
All the blood drains from my face. Tens of millions.
“Ford. All this because… You can’t… you can’t spend that kind of money on me! You can’t spend that kind of money on playing games, period. It’s irresponsible. I’m not worth—” I scream at him only to cover for how nauseous I am over the thought of all those zeroes.
“You are worth every fucking penny!” he shouts, arms flung wide. “I’m careful with my money. I’m downright philanthropic. But this? This isn’t a game. I’m in love with you. This is pocket change compared to what I’d be happy to spend on you. There is no price too high to watch this asshole pay for every moment of misery and self-doubt he caused you.”
With two long strides, he’s standing in front of me, body vibrating with rage. His hands land on either side of my neck, forcing me to look at him as his thumbs trace reverently over my jaw.
His eyes glow with intensity as mine fill with tears. “Hear this, Rosie. You are worth every penny. Every fortune. Every investment. Every risk. You are priceless to me.”
One stray teardrop rolls down my cheek when I blink, and Ford watches its slow descent with a sort of fury I’ve seen on his face before. One I’m realizing I’ve misplaced over the years.
I misread Ford’s expressions when I thought I infuriated him.
He was infuriated. But for me. Not with me.
“Do you understand?” He practically growls the words and I dip my chin in agreement, sniffling once.
“I think so.”
I spent a lot of time wondering why the boys in my life never felt an inclination to stand up for me, and now I’m face-to-face with a man who’s made it his mission to do it. Even in the throes of passionate argument he makes me feel more secure than I ever have before.
It’s… overwhelming. It’s heart-rending. It’s safety.
Our gazes collide, and with one hitched breath, I crash into him. Kissing him. Clutching at the lapels of his jacket with such intense need that it almost hurts.
My chest aches as his lips claim mine, his big hand cradling my head like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
We cling to each other, but it’s not enough. It’s not close enough. Raw enough. I don’t know what to say to him, can’t find the words. All I know is I want to be cocooned in him. In his protection.
It feels like after so many years of going it on my own, working so hard to make something of myself, to stay out of trouble, I have somewhere soft to land. Somewhere I can let the worst, bitchiest, most unlikable, sock-and-sandal-wearing version of myself show and still be loved.
It’s a kind of devotion I’ve never known.
It’s a refuge I never let myself dream of.
The sandalwood in Ford’s cologne is heady and intoxicating, the expert stroke of his tongue against mine a wildfire through my veins.
“Take this off. Now,” I bite out between kisses, unwilling to pull back enough to talk.
Ford groans into my mouth as I work at his shirt buttons while he shrugs off his jacket. I rip the last few, not caring. If he can spend millions playing games, he can buy a new shirt.
I’m struck dumb all over again when I see what’s around his neck. The silver chain and that goddamn key. Pale blue speckles of paint mar the metal. And all the air leaves my lungs.
“You fished that out of the paint?”
“Of course. I plan to wear it forever.”
Then my hands are on his bare skin. My fingertips memorize every ridge as I count every ab. I move up to his pecs, moaning as I flick a finger over his nipple and it hardens. Just like mine.
I pull back to admire him, the silvery light highlighting his toned body.
“Fuck. I’m going to keep pushing you into that lake for years to come just so you keep swimming.” He breathes out a soft laugh. “Lose the pants.”
He keeps his eyes on me while he undoes his belt casually, making me wet in the process. His slacks fall and I swiftly remove his boxers and wrap my hand around his steely length.
Ford hisses through his teeth as I twist my palm around his girth and dust the pads of my fingers over the straight line of his collarbone. I marvel at how angular everything on this man’s body is. His nose. His jaw. His brow.
He’s a painful sort of handsome. Not pretty or soft. There’s no boy-next-door appeal with Ford. There’s a wickedness to him. Sharp jaw, wide shapely lips, cunning eyes.
“I’m sorry I never noticed,” I murmur, thinking back to all those summers we spent at each other’s throats. How different it all must have looked through his eyes.
He was just my brother’s dickish best friend who always had some snide remark to make. But he was there for me at every turn.
I was oblivious.
“I’m sorry I never told you,” he murmurs, reaching between us with deft fingers to pull away the sash at my waist. Once loose, all it takes is a simple shrug of my shoulders for the plunging neckline to give way and the stunning silk garment to tumble into a soft pool of dreamy pink fabric at my feet.
The rush of cool air has every fine hair on my body rising. Like every fiber of me is reaching for him.
“Ford, I —”
“Rosie,” he cuts me off, but his voice is gentle. It holds a tremor as his gaze sizzles over my skin, and he delicately removes the daisy-shaped pasties that cover my nipples. “I think we should take a break from talking with our mouths. There are more important things I’d like to do with mine.”
His head drops to my chest, and he sucks my nipple into his mouth with a guttural groan. My head tips back, my hair tickling my spine, as I’m plunged into the sensation of being worshiped by Ford Grant.
The tug of the sticker on my right breast sends a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to my groin as he continues to work the opposite nipple.
When his dark mahogany hair moves over to the other one, I stumble, my heels tipping me back until I’m pressed against the wall.
I grip his strong shoulders as his lips drag torturously over my body Then he drops to his knees before me. With his hands splayed over my rib cage, he trails his tongue between my breasts, skims his teeth over my stomach, and nips at the soft spot just beneath my hip. I shiver and lift my body to meet him.
He leans back slightly and stares at me. My core. My stomach. My legs.
He uses one thumb against one side of my pussy and spreads me.
“Ford…”
“Rosie, shut up and let me admire you.”
My breaths come sharp and choppy as he swipes through me, spreading the wetness up and over my clit. A shiver racks me every time, but I can’t peel my eyes from the look of intense focus on his face. It’s the same one he gets when I see him listening to a demo with big noise-canceling headphones on.
His forest-green eyes slice up to my face. “I like seeing how wet you are for me. Proof that this is real.”
Then he drops his head between my legs, turning the attention he just gave my rock-hard nipples to my pussy.
My head tilts back against the wall as his tongue works me. His stubble scrapes against my inner thighs. He sets my body ablaze with every stroke, every firm press of his lips. I rock against his face, but he doesn’t pull away —he takes it one step further. Lifting each of my thighs over his shoulders, spreading me and diving in deeper with a hungry snarl.
I feel out of my body. Like I’ve exploded into a cloud of bliss and could float away if it weren’t for the man between my legs, gripping my thighs and feasting on me like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted.
The coiling sensation at the base of my spine takes hold.
A tugging between my hips.
“Oh god. Oh fuck,” I murmur, fingers raking through his hair. Toes curling tight against the base of the stilettos still strapped around my ankles.
I see my release shimmering before me, like heat waves on a hot day. So real I could reach out and touch it.
But Ford pulls back, and it ebbs away. I groan and thump a fist on the wall beside me before peering down at him.
At his smirk and glowing, almost otherworldly eyes. “What are you doing?” I whine the words.
“Watching you.” His focus flashes down to my spread pussy and back up to my face.
“Less watching. More of what you were doing before.”
He lowers one leg off his shoulder and then the other as he leans back on his haunches, looking altogether too pleased with himself.
“Not yet.”
My eyes widen, a flash of frustration streaking through me. “You’re torturing me.”
Ford chuckles, low and deep, and it makes me sway on already unsteady legs. He stands and stares down at me. “You’ve been torturing me for years.”
He gives me a quick kiss and I can taste my essence on his lips. It brings me a base sort of satisfaction to know that he tastes like me.
He reaches down and lifts me like I weigh nothing. I imagine for a man his size, that’s probably true. He man-handles me with ease, carrying me farther into the dim suite.
“If you learn anything tonight, it should be that I get off on playing with my food before I finish it,” he whispers against my ear.
When he drops me on the bed, stepping up so that his knees bump against the edge of the mattress, my legs come together.
“Spread your legs, Rosie.”
My chest heaves with heavy, excited breaths and I let my legs fall apart for him. I feel like I could combust under the weight of his gaze.
“Too dark to see.” I glimpse his profile, the outline of his body as he rounds the bed and flicks on the bedside lamp. A golden glow fills the space, accentuating every shadowed dip on his body. I glance up at where he stands near my head and watch as he takes a moment to let his eyes roam me. Spread out for him. An appreciative groan rumbles in his throat and my entire body clenches in anticipation.
Then he tugs two pillows from against the headboard and steps down the side of the bed so he towers over my splayed body.
“Flip over, Rosie. Get on all fours.”
I’m too mind-numbingly turned on to bark back at him. I’m pliable. Needy. I do exactly as he tells me.
“Yeah, baby. Just like that,” he mutters as I turn onto my knees and lift my ass in the air. One big hand caresses the closest globe appreciatively while the other slides the cool pillows beneath my stomach.
Then his attention moves lower, a teasing swipe across my clit before two fingers push inside me, scissoring and stretching me. I turn to glance back over my shoulder. To catch sight of his solid body looming over mine as he plays with me.
I pant, mouth popping open as I soak up the view, as he keeps working me relentlessly. Then I feel a slap against my cheek. I look back up at him and he’s fisting his cock.
“Open up, Rosie. Put that mouth to use.”
There’s no hesitation. My lips are already parted and he takes full advantage by sliding himself into my mouth while he fucks me with his fingers. I rock back and forth on my hands and knees, pushing toward him at both ends. Surrounded by him.
I moan shamelessly, overwhelmed by sensation. He plays me like a maestro, standing beside me, filling me in so many ways.
I suck eagerly at his length, arching my back and clenching around him when he adds a third finger and growls, “Such a tight, needy little pussy.”
My head bobs. Because, yes, I am so needy right now.
He smooths a hand over my hair. “If your mouth wasn’t stuffed full of cock right now, would you be asking for more?”
I hum and nod, still working at his length. But he pulls away all the same and presses my back. It’s a light pressure, but my arms buckle beneath me so I’m down on my elbows.
“Hips up, baby,” he directs and I’m immediately lifting my hips, knees digging into the soft mattress as I melt into the pillows beneath me and feel my heel-clad feet dangle on the edge. I let Ford position me exactly as he wants me. His hands gentle and domineering all at once.
I whimper when he steps back and moves to the end of the bed, his knees bumping against my ankles as he steps close.
The Egyptian cotton sheets are silky between my fingers when I grip them. Cool and soft and too damn nice for the ways we’re about to deface them.
“Stop pretending to be shy and spread your legs, Rosie. I want to see that tight little pussy drip for me.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper, but there’s no venom; in fact, it comes out more like a plea. And there’s no fight. I let my knees slide across the sheets, feeling my wetness seep out as I do.
His satisfied groan does nothing but confirm it.
“That’s what you need. To get fucked. I can see that much.” His words rumble over my spine, and I feel his heat as he comes to stand behind me. “It’s what I need too,” he adds as he runs the bare head of his cock through my folds. “What I’ve always wanted.”
He carries on teasing me, his words slow and measured.
Totally unhurried.
“So, I’m going to enjoy this. Watching you make a mess for me. Fucking you. Making you come until your legs give out and the only thing keeping this ass up for me are those pillows.”
He slides in fast and hard. Palms on my ass, cock shoved snug inside me.
“Yes,” I moan, arching my back and pushing into him.
His fingers flex.
“Wish you could see the way you look stuffed full of me, baby. So fucking right.”
“Yes.” I move my hips against him again. “So fucking right,” is my hushed response, repeating his words.
His movements start out exacting and measured. Every thrust in just as painstakingly even as each glide out. I know he’s watching me take him. And that turns me on. Knowing he can’t look away, knowing he’s getting off on the view of me stretched around his cock.
I turn my head to meet his emerald gaze. I bite my bottom lip and clench around his overwhelming thickness. An unspoken challenge that he recognizes with a growl. With fingertips that dig into my ass and measured strokes that border on punishing.
A smile touches my lips as he fucks me into the bed. Our skin slaps as he pounds me hard enough that I lose purchase. I give in and let the pillows take my weight while Ford forces me to see stars.
I get lost in him.
His hands.
His body.
The way he plays mine with such mastery.
It’s a blur, a high I’ll never be able to re-create.
I shatter, screaming his name, and my legs give out as he showers me with kisses. He works his way up my spine, thrusting once, hard, and then follows. Erupting before draping himself over me. Our damp bodies pressed together, heaving through sharp, ragged breaths. He brushes his nose against the shell of my ear. A touch that somehow overflows with tenderness.
A touch that makes me turn my head and whisper what I’ve known for some time.
“I love you, Ford.”
He just nuzzles against me again and responds with a quiet, “I’ve always loved you, Rosie.”