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IVY
Ford’s message is loud and clear. He has no intention of letting me go. His kiss is intense, and the way he holds me so tightly, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, tells me everything I need to know.
I just hope he knows I’m not planning on leaving, even if he pushes me away.
It doesn’t take long for our kiss to deepen into something more. Quickly, my pajamas are discarded into a pink pile on the floor and his boxer briefs are tangled at his feet.
This is the moment things change between us. It’s not just about sex. It’s about the man constantly in the tabloids hiding his pain and grief.
Ford’s opening himself up to me, showing me what’s buried deep inside his heart. I’m not fucking a movie star; I’m making love to a man.
Ford clutches me tightly as he reaches his climax. Just before he explodes, he pulls out and lets the warm, sticky cum coat our bellies.
“You don’t have to keep doing that,” I whisper, brushing my lips against his cheek. “I’m on the pill.”
He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Now you tell me!” His fingers tease and tickle as they dance along my skin. “Let’s get cleaned up and finally order breakfast.”
I scramble off his lap and stretch out my body. “You mean lunch? Breakfast is practically over.”
“Semantics,” he says right before he lunges toward me, snagging me around the waist and slinging me across his shoulder like a sack of flour.
When I playfully protest, beating my fists against his back, he responds with a few light swats across my ass. He doesn’t set me back on my feet until we’re both standing under the hot spray of the shower.
“What do you want to do today?” His large hands work body wash across my skin, soaping up every inch until I must look like a giant bubble.
“I thought you had plans for me,” I tease, mocking his serious tone.
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I do, princess. Don’t worry about that.”
I pour a generous amount of body wash into my hands and run it across Ford’s broad chest. When I reach his shoulders, I stand on tiptoe to reach them.
“I should work on getting the prosthetics ready,” I murmur.
Most of my attention is on his midsection and the way my fingers glide over the ridges of his washboard abs. I hum appreciatively. The man is truly a work of art.
He groans softly. “Work. Don’t remind me. The only reason I’m here is because of Nolan. If he wasn’t the film’s director, I wouldn’t have even agreed to do it.”
“Oh.” My hands fall away from his body and my head drops slightly.
He tilts my face up to meet his hard stare. “You’re the reason I’m staying, Ivy. I would have bailed as soon as I saw the forecast.”
I smile in response, but it’s weak and unconvincing. Still, he lets me get away with it as he turns the water off. We step out into the bathroom; he wraps me up tightly and places a kiss on top of my head.
“I’ll order us something to eat,” he calls out as he walks into the bedroom.
“Actually, do you mind if I head downstairs to work for a little while? I’m new, and I want to make a good impression, but I don’t want to get behind before filming has even begun.”
“Sure. If that’s what you want.”
It’s not. What I want is some time to clear my head. I was confident moments ago, ready to hand over my heart to Ford, but what he said in the shower affected me more than I thought.
He’s one of the best actors in the entire world. How do I know he isn’t just acting with me?
I get dressed in a hurry and leave before Ford can stop me. My mind is at war with itself. Part of me believes everything Ford’s said. There’s no way the things he’s done are just a show. Nevertheless, the other half of me believes a man like Ford could never love a foster kid, essentially a nobody.
Frustrated, I board the elevator and try not to think about last night. But it’s no use. All I can picture is the way he feasted upon me, making a meal of my body.
Fuck.
