Page 23

23

HARPER

F ord and Connor got tired of the Golden Girls pretty fast.

The second Gram dozed off, Connor stealthily snuck over and grabbed the remote.

Now, he’s currently fighting with Ford over it, arguing over what to watch.

“Since I’m the neutral party, why don’t we watch some slasher flicks and be done with it?” I run a hand through my hair, tired of the arguing. “I swear, you two act like little bitches.”

“Oh, shit. Did you just call me a little bitch?” Connor’s eyes twinkle as he pretends to scowl at me.

“I sure the hell did. I call it like I see it. Little bitch.” I flash him a broad smile, making Ford laugh.

“I was offended you called me a little bitch only because I don’t want to be lumped in the same category as this asshole.” He jerks his thumb at Connor.

“God. It’s like babysitting children,” I mutter.

“Oh, I resent that.” Ford’s fingers start poking me in the side where I’m most ticklish.

I burst out laughing, slapping my hand over my mouth.

If I wake Gram, there will be hell to pay.

Luckily, she doesn’t stir.

I’m squirming and giggling, trying to pretend like the feel of Ford’s hard cock beneath me isn’t affecting me.

“Hey. Watch your foot. You almost kicked me in my junk.” Connor holds a hand protectively over his groin region.

“S-Sorry,” I say, between giggles. “I can’t… help it. B-Blame… Ford.”

Ford finally relents, a big grin on his face.

It’s so fucking sexy I nearly give in to my urge to kiss him until rational thought takes over.

·Rule # One: Don’t kiss your kidnapper

·Rule # Two: Don’t fall victim to his delusions

·Rule # Three: Don’t marry your delusional kidnapper, even if he is your hotter-than-sin ex-boyfriend turned professional hockey player.

I recite the spur-of-the-moment rules as I sit up, running a hand through my hair and tugging down Ford’s sweatshirt.

His gravelly voice rumbles in my ear. “You look sexy as fuck in my sweatshirt.”

Desire and need drips from his tone, disarming my defenses.

“F-Ford. Please. Stop.”

He wiggles his brows, giving me a smile that suggests there’s no way in hell that’s happening.

Not that I really expected it would.

But I seem to be hailing from the same land of delusions as Ford right now, only I have a modicum of sanity, unlike him.

“Why don’t you make us some popcorn, asshole.” Ford nudges Connor. “Bring us some drinks, too.”

Connor raises his brows. “When did I become your bitch?”

“When my future wife called you a little bitch.”

He shoots me a wink that has my breath stuttering inside my chest before his gaze returns to Connor. “Plus, you’re staying here to watch my drama unfold. You need to work for it, son.”

He grumbles as he gets up. “Whatever happened to serving your guests?”

When he exits, a giggle bursts out of me. “I changed my mind. He’s a big bitch, not a little one.”

Ford nearly spits out the water he just took a sip of.

Wiping a hand over his mouth, he chuckles. “I concur. BB for short.”

I laugh. “Noted. BB it is.”

Oh, God.

This feels too… familiar.

Comfortable.

I should be fighting him.

I should be trying to escape.

But instead… I’m sinking into him.

No , the voice inside my head argues. Get him to let his guard down. You know you can’t outrun puck boy.

Satisfied with my plan, I snuggle against Ford, who looks down at me with a mixture of surprise and suspicion.

I blink up at him. “This day is wearing me out. I’m getting tired.”

“Do you wanna go to bed?”

I shake my head.

God, no. I know what’ll happen.

“Nah. Let’s have a snack and watch a movie before bed.”

A knowing twinkle is in his eyes as he pulls the ottoman closer and props my feet on it.

Then he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over me.

When Connor comes in with our popcorn and drinks, he turns off the lights, and we start the movie.

As Ford and I share the popcorn, tension courses through my body.

Every nerve tingles from the warmth and closeness radiating from his massive, muscular frame.

This feels decidedly intimate, making me uneasy.

I’m starting to slip beneath his lure.

My fingers tighten on my bottle of soda.

Resist the temptation, Harper. You’re stronger than this.

I think.

I hope.

An hour later, Connor is fast asleep, his heavy breaths punctuated by light snoring.

Gram is still asleep in her chair, leaving Ford and me alone.

I stifle my gasp when Ford’s hand slips beneath my sweatshirt, his palm toasty against my now overheating skin.

His eyes drop to mine as his hand trails upward, moving higher.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, my eyes darting to Connor and then Gram.

His lips are so close to mine, I smell the popcorn and soda on his breath. “What’s it look like, my future wife?”

His fingers reach my bra, teasing my hard nipple through the fabric.

“Stop calling me that,” I hiss, enjoying those words far more than I should.

Don’t stop fighting this madness.

His hand slips beneath the fabric of my bra, eliminating all my thoughts.

My mind is a blank slate as he expertly teases me with his magical fingers roaming over my skin possessively.

I want so badly to resist, but I’m powerless.

His other hand grabs my leg, throwing it over his, spreading me wide.

He shifts the blanket so it covers us as his hand dips beneath the waistband of my leggings.

I open my mouth to protest, but his mouth covers mine, stealing the sound and my breath.

Euphoria overwhelms me as his thumb teases my clit, his fingers tease my nipple, while his lips cover mine.

When he pulls away, the look of possessive ownership in his eyes and sinful smile nearly makes me come undone.

I should fight against him.

But part of me knows it’s no use.

Not when he’s the only man I’ve ever loved.

My best friend.

My strongest supporter.

He slips two fingers inside me, and a moan slips out.

My eyes widen as my head snaps in Connor’s direction.

I hear Ford’s chuckle as I release a relieved sigh.

“Relax. They’re still asleep.”

I turn my head back to his, locking my eyes with his intense baby blues.

I’m drowning in them.

Resistance is futile.

I should shove his hand away.

Push him off me.

But when he strokes me like this… I lose all sense of self-preservation.

As he curls his fingers, my hands fist the fabric of his shirt, pulling him to my mouth.

As I convulse around his fingers, drowning in his scent and kiss, a frightening reality engulfs me.

Ford owns me.

Mind, heart, body, and soul.

He always has.

And deep down, I think I’ve always wanted him to.