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“I was planning to discuss this at dinner, but now seems as good a time as any.”
A nagging stirs in my gut, warning signals sounding at the apprehension in her tone.
“Moving in means contributing financially.”
The nagging immediately turns to irritation. In a beat, she’s on her back and I’m looming over her. “Not fucking happening.”
“Ford, it’s only right. You just got rid of one freeloader—”
“Do not finish that sentence. Wipe that shit from your head. I can’t believe I even need to explain to you the difference.”
She jerks back at my bitterness. “I know the difference.”
“When we moved in, a lot of my parents’ stuff went to storage so we could do what we wanted. Specifically, in the bedrooms. For years, none of us had much because we didn’t need it. I bought what I needed. Bed, dresser, nightstands, sheets, pillows, towels—basic shit. You want to put your stamp on every inch of this place, go for it. But you even mention giving me money again, and I’ll lose my ever-fucking mind.”
“I was trying to be respectful!”
“Never again,” I grind out.
The fire flaming in her eyes ignites the possessive beast inside. “Had a shit week, but one look at you made it all disappear. Now you gotta get me back to that place after pissing me off.”
Understanding washes over her features. “You’re being bull-headed.”
At the term bull-headed, the irritation dies. I glance over her neck and chest, a sense of satisfaction racing through me at the little marks on her skin.
“What’s so amusing?” she huffs.
I thrust deep, her breath hitching.
“On second thought, I’ll do all the work.”
The waiter places the wine in front of Rowan, leering a little too closely at her.
He’s either seeking a death wish or the stupidest motherfucker on the planet. After a few seconds, I clear my throat. “You can go.” He snaps out of his trance and hurries away.
“That was rude,” she whisper-hisses.
“He was staring at your tits.”
“He was not. If anything, he was noticing the terrible attempt at concealing the marks you left behind.”
My eyes are drawn to the path from her collarbone to the skin that disappears under the neckline of her dress. I sip my whiskey, trying not to smile.
“You’re crowing.”
“Just admiring my work.”
She tries to keep a straight face but gives in, smiling brightly. She takes a sip of her wine, choking mid-swallow with wide eyes.
“Hello, Rowan, Ford.”
Tera steps close, bending to kiss my cheek. Ice hardens in my veins when I catch the man at her side. Instinctively, I stand, shielding Rowan from view.
“Tera,” I grate out, mentally working through the exits while reading him.
The shift in his stance, squaring his shoulders and taking me in. A flicker of recognition passes before his gaze goes blank.
“Ford, this is my friend, Kent.”
