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“My court schedule doesn’t allow for flying to Florida for drinks and a good fuck.”
“It’s a shame you thought that.”
“Smart ass.” His voice gets low like he’s picturing my ass.
In his hands. On his lap. My legs wrapped around his hips. Or his face.
“Fine,” I choke out. “I’m sorry, Ford. I’m sorry, I fell for a guy who wanted more than I could give. And that I ran into the arms of a man who only wanted to fuck.”
What a colossal mistake that was.
“Kind of half-ass, but I’ll take it.” He sips his champagne so elegantly for an ex-warrior.
“Unlike how you took my ass,full and hard.”
Ford chokes on his drink and needs a moment to marshal a straight face. Rare for the always-composed Ford Montgomery.
“That brings me to reason number two.”
“You want to fill my ass with your cock.” All I can think is,yes, please,as my will to resist him crumbles before my eyes.
“Yes. But... Not just you.”
I felt this coming and there’s no point denying it, or playing dumb.
“You mean Bernadette.”
“That was the sticking point last time. I wanted a woman with us, and you didn’t.”
“You think you’re such hot shit.” I sit back and throw my napkin down. “You think you’re so overwhelming and that I couldn’t handle another person in the relationship.”
“I am hot shit.” Ford drills me with a stare.
“Okay, we agree there,” I laugh. “But I didn’t want thewholepackage. I could handle youanda woman. I loved that idea. In theory. I just didn’t want to be open about it the way you did. I knew I wouldn’t have followed through, and I’d break your heart. I couldn’t bear hurtingtwopeople.”
His jaw jumps, and he looks away briefly.
“I guess that makes me an asshole for not considering your feelings, Ash.”
It’s tempting to let him take the blame, but I handled things badly. I didn’t give him a chance.
“Maybe if we’d met someone back then...”
“We have a woman in our laps right now.” Ford’s voice drops to a dangerous, possessive octave. “It’s not hypothetical anymore. Bernadette isexactlywhat we need.”
He sounds so controlling, and it gets me hard. Hard enough to stay silent and let him finish.
“I say we sit her down and tell her how we feel about her. As far as what we want in a relationship. Her with us. Be a part of us. The missing piece.”
“You know how I feel about her?”
Did Bernie give him a play-by-play of our conversations? Gossip isn’t her style.
This maniac is playing me like we’re in court. He’s watching to see what I agree to.
“I know everything about her,” he boasts. “You think I’d let someone live under my roof without checking her out?”
That sounds like him, all right.
