Page 17

17

FORD

I really pissed her off.

Harper has been stomping around since I pulled her from the shower and tried to dry her off.

She swatted me away, trying to tug at the towel in my hand, her face turning red when I threatened to smack her ass if she didn’t behave.

She refused to listen, so I made good on my promise, smacking her ass and then rubbing the towel over her and drying her off.

Now she’s dressed, ripping her hair from the messy bun on top of her head, her eyes and mouth spitting fire at me.

“I’m not leaving.” She crosses her arms over her ample bosom, her hip cocked, tapping one foot against her floor.

I’d been sweeping the glass up, but now I pause, giving her a look that scares guys twice her size.

“The hell you aren’t. Pack some shit or I’ll do it for you.” I give her a leering look, my gaze sweeping her body from head to toe. “Unless you want to spend your time at Gram’s naked. Can’t say I’d mind. But if Connor sees you, I’ll gouge his eyes out.”

“I hate you.”

I smirk. “Pretty sure you don’t. Not after the way your pussy was gushing around my fingers.”

“Ahhh!” she screams, her hands tugging at the roots of her hair. “You’re so damn arrogant.”

I grin, not saying a word.

Her chest heaves from anger as she paces in front of her closet. “I’m not running away. I can handle?—”

“No, you can’t.” I’ve lost all fucking patience with her.

Now it’s time to resort to measures I never imagined I’d engage in.

“Have it your way.”

In three steps, I’m in front of her, tossing her down on the bed.

I grab her wrists, holding them together while I yank the pieces of rope I’d cut earlier from my hoodie.

I wind them around her wrist and have her tied up in no time, despite her screaming, bucking, and squirming like a fool.

I’m breathing heavily as I glare at her. “You brought this on yourself.”

I get up, then stomp over to the glass.

I finish cleaning it up, then grab her suitcase and a duffle bag. “You’re staying at Gram’s for the foreseeable future.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps.

Ignoring her, I go through her closet, plucking clothes from hangers and shoving them inside.

It’s a good thing I scoured her social media today.

The outfits she wore in the photos are what I’m using as a mental guide as I grab her clothes.

She’s sitting up when I finish with her closet.

I throw a couple pairs of shoes in the bottom of her duffle bag and then move to her dresser.

But I freeze when I see the navy sweatshirt.

My sweatshirt.

I gave it to her in college to wear.

She always liked stealing my t-shirts, sweatshirts, and jerseys to wear, and I sure as hell never minded.

I loved seeing her in my clothing.

I still do.

Squatting down, my hands shake as I gingerly lift it.

My jaw is clenched so tightly, it fucking aches as I stare at it.

My grip tightens on the sweatshirt, the fabric bunching in my hands.

My vision tunnels.

Deep breaths, Ford.

Deep fucking breaths.

I hear her intake of breath behind me as I unfold it, memories crashing through me.

The moment I gave it to her.

Her smile as she put it on.

The way I ripped it and the rest of her clothes off, steering her to my bed.

The way she clung to me as I thrust inside her.

We felt like one.

Like we were two halves of a whole.

Inseparable.

I’m dangerously close to snapping.

One wrong word.

One wrong look, and I’ll fucking lose it.

“I-I… I should’ve given that back to you.”

For a moment, I forget to breathe.

Like she just ripped something vital out of me.

Slowly, I turn, my voice razor-sharp. “That’s all I was to you, huh? A piece of fabric? A fucking souvenir?” I can’t disguise the hurt on my face from her words.

Not when I’m feeling this raw.

She cringes, sucking in another breath.

“I meant that little to you, huh?” My voice is brittle and hollow. “You’d give it back because you can’t stand to be reminded of our history.”

Her eyes are wide as her mouth drops open.

She slowly shakes her head, her brows furrowed. “That’s why I didn’t.” Her voice is full of pain and grief.

She swallows hard. “I wore it after we broke up.”

Bowing her head, I hear her sniff.

Irrational anger barrels through me. “You broke up with me , not the other way around, Harper. I wanted us to work. I would’ve made us work.”

Her head snaps up. “I had to let you go. Look at me and look at you. There are a thousand women far more beautiful and cultured than I am. You were heading to the big leagues, and it was time to face reality. To shake the past like a snakeskin and embrace the wealth, the travel, and the beautiful women.”

“I didn’t want any of that.” My voice booms through her room, wafting into the hallway and shaking the walls. “All I wanted was you !”

I shake my head, disappointment flooding me. “I know your father criticized you way too often about your looks and especially, your body. But I’m not him . I loved you for who you are and how you look. The inside and the outside, Harper.”

The past is being purged, regardless of whether I want to do this or not.

She started this… so I’m ripping the band-aid the rest of the way off.

“I always thought you were gorgeous, Harper. You’re a beautiful, strong, feisty woman with a huge heart. Your curves were a bonus to me. I love every fucking one of them because they’re you . Just like I love the good and the pain-in-the-ass parts of you.”

Fuck.

I just said love.

Present tense.

The confession hangs in the air, thick and suffocating.

I didn’t mean to bare my feelings to her just yet, but something about her causes me to do things I don’t want to do.

She stares at me, her mouth and eyes wide.

Spinning around, I toss the sweatshirt in her suitcase, then grab bras, underwear, and some socks and toss them inside.

The silence is deafening.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

“What toiletries do you need?”

“Ford. Can we talk about?—”

My head slowly turns to hers, drilling her with my gaze. “Your silence said enough, did it not?”

“I was stunned. I didn’t expect… this.”

She gets up from the bed, moving her wrists.

But there’s no way she’s getting out of those bindings.

“I’ll just go get what I think you’ll need.”

I spin on my heel, heading into her en suite bathroom.

She stomps in behind me. “Damn it, Ford. Stop being so stubborn.”

She stops so close to me that I feel her curves pressing into my side. “You always do this when you’re hurt. You cover it with anger.”

I don’t answer, grabbing her toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss.

“Talk to me, dammit.” Her bound hands grip my arm.

I look at her, knowing she can see the pain in my eyes.

I’m raw and sore, my feelings on full display as I hit her with the force of it.

“You want the truth? I never got over you!”

She blinks rapidly, but not before I see the flood of moisture in her eyes.

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

“I let you go because I thought it was the right thing to do. We’d been together forever. All our friends were in my head the second you got drafted, asking if I would give up school and follow you.”

“I never asked you to give up school. And you know I supported whatever you decided. If you wanted to move and transfer, I was supportive. If you wanted to stay here, I understood.”

“I wanted to go with you but couldn’t afford it.” Tears are running down her cheeks.

“I could’ve paid for your expenses. And I would have if you would’ve let me.”

“That’s the problem. I didn’t want to feel like I owed you. And what if something happened? What if…” Her voice breaks as a sob wrangles free. “What if you would’ve found someone better than me?”

I turn to face her, pulling her into my arms. “There’s no one better than you. Not for me.”

Her eyes fly to mine, her pain crushing me.

But I’m helpless.

I don’t know how to boost her self-esteem and make her see that she’s it.

She’s the one .

A wicked seed plants itself into my mind.

Oh, yes. That could work.

With renewed energy, I wipe her tears before planting my lips against hers.

She gasps before responding to my kiss.

It’s there.

The truth is in her kiss.

Her heart knows what it wants.

It’s her mind that hasn’t dealt with her issues.

But I can help by paying for therapists who can help her work through her parental issues.

Releasing her, I quickly grab everything I think she’ll need while she stands there, gaping at me.

“I may need Connor to get ordained so this isn’t a crime.” I grab her, tossing her over my shoulder, then pick up her luggage.

“What the hell are you doing?” She squirms and kicks, but I have a firm grip on her. “Put me down before you hurt yourself.”

“Oh, honey,” I run down the steps with her over my shoulder. “I lift much heavier than whatever you weigh.”

When I reach the door, I say, “Pretty sure you can’t testify against your spouse for kidnapping. I’ll have Connor get ordained and marry us.”

I whip open the front door, then turn and lock it.

Her body goes still. “W-What did you just say?”

I whistle as I carry her to Gram’s vehicle.

I open the door, toss her luggage in the back, then put her in the passenger seat.

“I’m kidnapping you. And you’re gonna be my wife.” I click the seat belt in place as she stares at me like I lost my damn mind.

Which I may have.

“Wait… what? Wait… kidnapping. Ford, what the hell?”

She goes still.

For a moment, her mouth opens and closes, like her brain is short-circuiting.

I straighten, shutting the door, ignoring her freak out.

She’ll throw a fit now, but she’ll thank me later.

Probably after I fuck her stupid.

I whistle as I walk around the vehicle.

I always imagined marrying her.

I doubt I could convince her stubborn ass to go to the courthouse.

Oh well. She’ll just have to be tied to Gram’s chair while saying her vows.

Because she’s mine.

I felt it in that kiss.

In the way she gushed on my fingers earlier.

And the sweatshirt just proves that she’s always been mine.

The wedding is just a formality.

As I slide behind the steering wheel, my thoughts are spinning a mile a minute.

I already have the ring picked out.

Wonder if I can get Connor ordained by tomorrow?