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“Don’t laugh at me, Ford. I did.” She fanned her face with her purse. “All I could picture was that little muffin all alone in your house and—I can’t.”
“It’s all good. Don’t worry.”
She glanced toward the ground.
Since she was no longer looking at me, I took my time, taking her in. The dress was one I hadn’t seen her wear before, fitting her the same as the night we had met at the bar. The top hugged her tits, revealing a sexy amount of cleavage, the sides showing those achingly beautiful curves. The bottom landed far above her knees, her gorgeous, long, lean legs ending in a pair of sky-high heels.
I wasn’t just hard.
I was fucking throbbing.
“Except I think I just lost years of my life.” She patted her chest, like she was pushing air back into her lungs. “Anyway, I’m sorry I’m coming home so late. Gabby and I were at a bar, and”—she shrugged—“I don’t know … having too much fun, I guess.”
At a bar.
Where every motherfucker in there had been staring at her body in that sexy dress.
My fucking body.
Jesus, Ford, what the hell is wrong with you?
I shoved my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t reach for her and said, “Are you really apologizing for going out and coming home late? This is your home. You can come and go at whatever time you want. You never have to explain yourself.”
“I’m just not used to that. When I worked for the Turners, I never went out.”
“You deserve it. Go out. Have fun with your best friend.”
Her hands went to her hips. “Looks like you went out too. With your brothers or …”
“My brothers and a few friends.”
She closed her eyes for just a second. “I can smell the tequila.”
“Those boys and their fucking shots,” I groaned. “They’re relentless when it comes to celebrating.”
She shifted her stance. “Oh yeah?”
The movement made her wobble.
I was worried that she was going to fall, so I grabbed her, holding her steady. Once she gained her balance, my arms stayed around her, locking her in place.
She didn’t leave my grip.
She remained close.
Far too fucking close.
In fact, she even leaned into me.
And then she slowly gazed up at me. “Thank you … for not letting me fall.” A beat passed, her lips drawing an even bigger smile. “I have a favor-ish to ask.”
The light from the front door showed me her eyes and how they were focused on my lips.
“Anything, Sydney.”
“Good. Then, will you hopefully not kill me if another car shows up here tonight?”
Another car?
That meant someone was coming over.
At this hour, that could only mean one thing …
A fucking dude.
My stomach dropped.
I’d lost her.
I’d lost her before I even had her.
And it was my fucking fault—I’d waited too long; I’d pushed her away.
I’d sent her right into the arms of someone else.
My body stung at the thought.
At the goddamn realization.
I hated myself for it.
My hands dropped to my sides, and I added space between us. “Your house, remember? You can do anything you want.”
She smiled. “Thank God because I’m starving, and I’m going to order some food to be delivered.” She laughed. “My fridge is so empty.”
That’s what this is about?
Food?
Relief flooded my chest, and I practically fucking growled, “You don’t have to order anything. You can raid my fridge.”
Her face tilted up as she studied me, positioned perfectly for me to kiss her. “Does that mean you’re going to cook for me?” Her hand pressed against my chest. I wasn’t sure if she was holding herself up or if she needed the feel of me against her fingertips. “Or are you just giving me access to your food?”
My fucking God, she was hot.
“Sydney … it means I’m going to feed you.”
“Mmm,” she moaned, biting that lip I loved. “Hurry, I’m about to eat my arm.”
That sound.
