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My hand tightensin Ford’s as we make our way back inside. I hadn’t been lying when I said he has a presence, and it’s that overwhelming awareness of him that has my whole body feeling shivery as we walk back inside.
My dick can’t decide whether it wants to get hard or hide, but there’s no letting go now. I want to see this through. Whether something happens or we do end up sitting theresnuggling, I don’t fucking know.
But I want it. I want to see how things play out.
And when we reach the living room and Ford flicks off the lights and turns on the TV, the smile he gives me makes my heart give an extradu-dum. I inhale sharply, then try to shake my nerves as I flop back onto the couch. Ford joins me a moment later.
“What do you want to watch?” he asks.
“Don’t care. With any luck, we won’t be watching it anyway.”
His deep chuckle stirs my want. “Slow down, Romeo. We’ve got all night.”
“Put a series on, then. Something funny.”
“You know if we start a show together, we have to finish it, right?”
“Good with me.”
“Below Deck? It has nine seasons …”
I can hear his unasked question. Will I still be here after tonight? “Eh. We’ll find a longer one next time.”
Ford takes me at my word and switches it on before sitting back against the couch. He shuffles around so he has one leg running along the back of it, other foot still planted on the floor, and opens his arms to me. “I’m super comfy.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” I slide over the cushion to lean back against him, and Ford’s arms immediately close around me.
It’s so foreign to be hugged like this, to be held close and … surrounded. It’s like he’s holding me together, and as I sink back against his large, hard body, all my muscles let go of their tension.
“There we go,” he murmurs, squeezing me tighter for a second. “I like when you’re relaxed.”
“Me too.”
“Shh … you’re interrupting.”
I smile and wriggle against him until I’ve found a position that works, and he’s right. He is comfy. We lie there watching the show. Thankfully, Ford wasn’t serious when he told me to shut up because we’re both vocal throughout. The ridiculousness of reality TV is apparently something I’ve been missing in my life. It’s fun. So fun, I don’t notice at first how Ford’s hand has started to roam. His fingers trail up and down my side, flirting with the bottom of my T-shirt and the small amount of exposed skin there. It’s light, seemingly innocent, not pushing my comfort levels but making mewantto push my comfort levels.
My hand rests on Ford’s thigh, and I run it up and down, loving the feel of all that strength beneath my palm. It’s new and exciting.
I let out a long, pent-up breath.
Lips press against the side of my head. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah … this is nice.”
His hum has a roughness to it. “I agree.”
“Do you wish we were fucking?”
Ford lets out a noise like he’s choking. “What?”
“Well, this is ridiculously G-rated compared to what you’re used to.”
“There’s nothing G-rated about what’s going on in my pants.” He shifts slightly, and his hardness digs into my back. “But no. I meant it when I said I was okay with nothing more than this happening.”
“Maybe I’m not.”
“What?”
