Chest tightening, I take in what he’s saying…and the silent question weaved in between that he doesn’t seem to want to ask. My mouth dries, my pulse kicking up. “I’m not either,” I reply honestly.
“Good.” Ford nods. “And I got tested after Trent and I split up. All clear.”
The air between us feels thick, making my heart thud against my ribs. It’s different… Like his admission, and mine, means so much more than either of us are saying. Swallowing down the uncomfortable vulnerability I feel, I breathe out a small chuckle and say, “This your way of tellin’ me that you wanna fuck me raw next time, Cap?”
He huffs, raising his brows suggestively. “Maybe.”
“Such a dirty man you are.” I click my tongue to my teeth and flash him a flirty smirk. “But I’m all good too. I get tested regularly.”
Humor flashes in his gaze. “Is this your way of tellin’ me that you want me to fuck you raw next time?” he asks, throwing my words back at me and making me chuckle.
“Do I want to feel your cock in my ass without any barrier and let you fill me with your cum?” I ask huskily, my body heating. “Yeah, actually, I do. I want you to breed me, daddy… I want you to make this ass yours.”
Ford’s eyes dilate, and he sucks in a sharp breath before crashing his mouth to mine for one last, heated kiss that ends too quickly.
“Thanks for lettin’ me stay the night,” he says, the words spoken barely above a whisper. He doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he walks out of the room. A moment later, I hear the front door close, and I’m still standing here…dazed and really…really fucking confused.
And a little horny, too.
Twenty-Two
Ford
Grabbing the twelve-pack of beer off the passenger seat, I climb out of my truck and head inside. It’s been an…eventful day, and all I want is to relax, get drunk, and do whatever I can to take my mind off everything. Once inside, I kick off my shoes, set the beer on the counter, then head to my room, where I strip out of my work clothes and get into something more comfortable. I should’ve taken a personal day, but I figured work would occupy my mind. It did, in fact,notoccupy my mind.
After I’m dressed, I crack open a cold one and stare into my fridge, wondering what the hell I’m going to make for dinner. Before I can settle on anything, a knock sounds at the front door. Taking a pull from my beer, I set it down before strolling toward the front of the cabin. When I pull open the door, my heart stutters as I come face-to-face with the last person I expected to see tonight.
“Hollis.” I clear my throat and rub my hand across the back of my neck. “What’re you doin’ here?”
Holding up a large brown paper bag, he flashes me a grin. “Thought you could use a little distraction.”
“What…do you mean?”
He shrugs, a soft, boyish look in his eyes that hits me right in the chest. Before he says anything, I already know the answer. “Remi told me,” is all he says, confirming my suspicions.
I step to the side and gesture for Hollis to come in. “Of course, he did,” I murmur under my breath. I don’t know whether to be mad at Remi for opening his big mouth, or grateful because, the truth is, Icoulduse the distraction. And even though I’ll never admit it out loud, I don’t want to be alone tonight.
Hollis sets the paper bag beside my beer on the counter before fetching one for himself from the fridge, making himself right at home.
Confusion furrows my brows as I quickly glance inside the bag. “What’s all this?”
Twisting off the cap, he takes a long pull while watching me over the top of the bottle. It sends an icy-hot chill down my spine and causes my stomach to flip. “Listen, I realize this might sound ridiculous,” he drawls, tossing the bottle cap in the trashcan, “but just trust me, okay?”
I huff. “Yeah, that’s such a reassuring way to begin.”
He chuckles, coming to a stop in front of the counter beside me. “Fair point,” he says before reaching into the bag, removing various items, none of which make a lick of sense to me. There’re a couple white packets of…something, I’m not sure what, two long-stem wineglasses, a bottle of pink wine, a bag of popcorn, fuzzy socks, and finally a couple of…towels? Robes, maybe?
“What the hell is all this?” I ask again.
“Remember when we first matched on the app, I told you my ultimate guilty pleasure was watchingThe Real Housewives?”
“Wearing a face mask,” I add, then nod tersely. “I remember.”
I also remember what an amusing, and oddly satisfying, visual that was too.
“Yup, with the face mask.” He chuckles. “Don’t laugh, but there’s more to that guilty pleasure that I left off.”
Clenching my jaw to avoid smiling, I gesture for him to continue. “I’m listening.”
