Page 5

5

FORD

N ever in my wildest fucking dreams did I imagine a trip to Charlie’s for wings would end with Harper Adams on her knees in front of me, her hand wrapped around my cock like a lifeline.

Yet, here we are.

Jesus Christ.

A damn decade has passed, and she still manages to wreck me in under five seconds.

It doesn’t help that my body reacts on instinct, hardening in her grip even though she’s squeezing the damn thing like she’s trying to detach it from my body.

Pain finally wins over pleasure, and I pry her fingers loose, grabbing her other hand to haul her to her feet.

My restraint is hanging by a thread, yet I tighten my grip on her, afraid if I don’t, I’ll do something really fucking stupid.

Like kiss her.

Or worse, fall for her all over again.

The bar is dead silent.

Phones are out, cameras recording, catching every humiliating second of this moment.

Harper blinks up at me, her expression a mix of mortification and something else.

Something that looks a lot like desire.

Fuck.

She swallows, her voice breathy. “Ummm… good to see you again.”

I can’t answer right away because my brain is still rebooting from her hands-on approach to a reunion.

And because I need to get my shit together before I make a bigger mistake.

I step back, forcing my face into something neutral, even as my pulse pounds like a goddamn war drum.

Her lips press together as her expression fills with disappointment.

She turns away, her spine stiff, like she’s locking me out again .

Like I haven’t already lost enough of her.

She moves to the register and places her order to go.

I can’t stop the words from pouring from my mouth. “Aren’t you staying to eat?”

Why the fuck do I care?

She turns, her smile tight.

Her voice is still a little shaky when she speaks. “I think it’s better I go. I’ve humiliated myself enough for?—”

“Hey, Harper. You can drop to your knees and blow me in front of everyone. I’m into that.”

His words hit me like a live grenade, sparking rage inside me.

My vision goes red.

I don’t have to turn around to know the voice.

Todd fucking Matthews.

A walking reminder of one of the worst nights of my life.

But it’s not just the past that makes me snap.

It’s the way Harper flinches .

The way her breath catches, eyes going glossy with unshed tears, that cause me to lose my shit.

Before I can think, I move.

Faster than I do on ice.

One second, Todd’s sitting there, smug as hell.

The next?

I’ve got him by the shirt, yanking his ass off the stool and slamming him against the wall so hard the juke box skips.

“You don’t fucking talk to her like that.” My voice is low, dangerous.

The kind of tone that makes men twice his size back the hell off.

Todd’s eyes go wide.

He’s terrified.

Good.

“S-Sorry, man.” His voice wobbles.

I tighten my grip. “Don’t apologize to me.” I nod to Harper, knowing she’s right behind me without having to look.

I feel her there.

I always do.

“Apologize to her .”

His head jerks toward her, panic all over his face. “S-Sorry, Harper.”

She steps up beside me. “Don’t say shit like that again, and you won’t be in this situation.” Her voice is strong and steady.

Pride surges in my chest, even as my pulse refuses to settle.

She turns away, heading back to the register like she’s already put him behind her.

Wish I could say the same.

The whole bar is silent. Everyone is still watching and waiting to see if I’ll throw a punch, making this situation worse.

I exhale sharply.

Fuck.

As much as I want to, I have to let this go before I lose everything.

I release Todd, lowering him back onto his feet.

My fingers twitch, my body still buzzing with residual rage.

I turn to walk away, already knowing I need to call my agent for damage control.

But Todd’s voice freezes me in place. “Still pussy whipped for her, huh?”

The smug chuckle behind me is the final nail in his fucking coffin.

My fingers curl into fists as I battle with myself for control.

“Didn’t want you back then,” he taunts. “What chance do you think you’ll have now?”

I should whirl around and tell him I don’t want her.

That the past is buried, and I’ve moved the fuck on.

But that would be a goddamn lie.

One look at Harper, and I know the truth.

She still owns me.

And that terrifies me more than any fight ever could.

I force my fists to relax, walking away instead of finishing what I started.

Because if I don’t get the fuck out of here now, I’m going to make a mistake that costs me more than my career.

I might lose what little is left of my sanity.