Page 67 of Renegade Rift
I shake my head. “You’re such a nerd.”
“You learn to love it,” he says with a shrug of indifference.
He’s right. It’s one of the things I appreciate about Ford. Unlike when he was young and a cocky know it all, now he’s just unapologetically himself. It’s something I can only one day hope to be.
“If I may add my own rule?” he asks, and I nod for him to go on. “I’d like constant honesty between us. I can’t help if you hide your feelings from me.”
“Well, this is awkward, because I’m not sure if you know this”—I lean over and whisper behind my hand—“but I’m not great with letting people in.”
Ford’s laugh drifts over me and pools deep in my belly. “Oh, I’m aware. But it’s a hard rule for me.”
Scraping my teeth over my lip, I pretend to debate if I can abide even though I already know my answer. “Fine. Total honesty.”
“Anything else you want to add?” Ford asks. When I shake my head, he nods and continues. “Okay, then I have two more.”
“Go on.”
“Well, the first one is more of a clarification than a rule.”He presses his full lips together and his jaw ticks, though I’m not sure if it’s out of frustration or annoyance. “You said everything, but I want to clarify that touching is still on the table.”
His eyes fall to my cheeks, which are no doubt as red as the lips on my Rolling Stone shirt.
“Touching?” My anxiety spikes, and I twist my hands in my lap. No one has touched me since Tyler. I’m not even sure I still like being touched.
“Jesus, Juliet.” Ford reaches out to take my hands in his but halts his movement before his skin contacts mine. “May I?”
My gaze darts between our hands andrelief floods his eyes when I nod, giving him silent permission.
“I don’t mean any sort of intimate touching.” His fingers slip between mine, and he gives them a gentle squeeze. “And, to be clear, I won’t touch you anywhere you don’t want me to. You set the pace and the boundaries. This is about you and what you need.”
Air rushes from my lungs in a sigh that is two parts relief and one part appreciation for the man who somehow sees the parts of me I don’t want to be seen.
“I can’t exactly bolster your confidence if I’m not allowed to hold your hand, or guide you on a dance floor.” He tugs gently, coaxing me to sit beside him. Every part of me is touching him—knee to knee, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper, but really it’s more than. It’s everything. It’s okay, great, empowering. It’s me sitting next to a man and not feeling an ounce of the fear of where I should put my hand. Ford already is holding it. I don’t need to worry that I’m being too clingy, because he put me there. He wants me there.
The whiplash I’m giving myself might snap my neck if I’m not careful. Because while I am beautiful in my empowerment, I am broken in my heart, and I’m still trying to reconcile how both can be true. But I want to. I need to.
With his free hand, Ford brushes my hair from the shell of my ear and leans in, his lips dancing over my flesh as he whispers. “I want to be able to lean in and whisper what a good girl you are for granting me the absolute pleasure of being your date for the night.”
I suck in a breath, my heart racing a full formula one circuit in my chest. “And is that absolutely necessary?”
“Absolutely.” He pulls back only just enough for me to feel his eyes on mine and his breath on my cheek. “I promise to always ask if something is too much and always stop when you say to. But I’d like to set a high enough standard that you’llknow a red flag when you see one.” His thumb and forefinger grip my chin, and he turns my face so we’re inches from each other. “I need you to hear me when I tell you that you deserve to be the center of someone’s universe, Juliet. And I’m going to make sure you never settle for less.”
My mouth falls open, and I search his eyes for any hint of a lie. But I find none.
Who is this man to make these kinds of promises?
He’s the one who found you when no one else would. The man who paid your debts without question. He’s the one who held you in a cemetery and picked up the pieces when you fell apart after a failed date. He’s your friend. Your ally. And now he’s the guy you’re going to date for exactly three dates.
Ford’s mouth parts, pulling my attention to his full lips. And maybe it’s because we just were talking about touching, or maybe it’s the fact he’s so damn committed to helping me,but for a split second I consider saying screw it and finding out if kissing Ford McCoy would be as soul shattering as I imagine.
Shit.
Is that what I want?
Thank god I don’t have time to examine my fleeting moment of delirium before Ford pulls away. “Was that too much?”
“No.” The single syllable word comes out breathier than if I had uttered it after runninga full marathon.
