Page 81 of Renegade Rift
“Okay.”
He must sense my uncertainty because he’s quick to clarify. “It’s not because I don’t want to know. It’s so I’m left only to my imagination and won’t be tempted to come see for myself.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh is right.”
His sarcasm pulls a grin to my lips. I like that the thought of me naked leaves him a little off kilter. And I can’t help but wonder if he’s also shimmying out of his clothes as we speak.
Once I’m completely bare, I’m surprised to find my nerves have steadied themselves, and I’m excited for what comes next.
“Now I want you to pull the topsheet up over you.”
“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of being naked?” I scoff.
“From here on out, unless I ask you a question, I only want to hear one of four words come out of your mouth. Yes. More. Ford. Or stop. And to be clear, if it’s the last one, everything ceases.”
“But—”
“Juliet.” His voice is warm yet stern. “This is about getting out of that head of yours and rewriting this experience as one of your own, not laced in thelies that fuckface spouted.”
“Yes. Ford. More,” I tease.
“You’re going to be the death of me.” He exhales, and I can practically hear his eye roll at my teasing. “Now slide under the sheet and close your eyes.”
I do as he says, relaxing into the cool Egyptian cotton sheets like they are a fluffy cloud.
“Breathe,” he whispers. “In—and out.”
I follow Ford’s breaths like they’re a road map. With each one, the tension I’ve held onto for so long slowly releases. First in my shoulders. Then my back and hips, all the way down to my toes.
“Good,” he rumbles, his voice thick. “Now feel the weight of the fabric across your skin.”
I do. It’s light and airy, barely there.
“Notice the way it grazes your nipples and drapes over your thighs.”
At just the mere mention, my nipples tighten, and when I inhale a sharp breath, the sheet shifts over the tips, sending a spark straight through my abdomen and to my clit.
A gasp tears from my lips and my hips jerk, searching for friction that isn’t there.
Holy shit.
That’s never happened before.
Ever.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt something so visceral—so inherently sexy.
“Yes, love,” Ford breathes, but I can hear the smile in his voice. “I can only imagine how incredibly sexy you are laying there—fucking powerful—taking what belongs to you.”
“Yes,” I whisper, but it’s less an agreement and more a pledge to the woman I’m becoming.
“Now, I want you to touch yourself.”
My stomach clenches, but this time it originates from low in my belly, fueling the ache that is no doubt a precursor to the storm brewing.
“Yes.” I run my fingers over my hips, teasing my all of a sudden too sensitive flesh.
