“Stop,” I whimper. “Just stop.”
“What?” he asks.
Shaking my head, I rise to my toes, my mouth touching his. “Stop being so fucking perfect, Ford. Stop showing me everything that I fucked up on. Stop making me want you more than I ever have, stop making me regret everything I’ve done the past seventeen years.
“Because I do. I regret walking away from you, away from this and the beautiful life that we could have built for something as selfish and fleeting as fame—something I have discovered is downright useless.”
“Honey,” he groans but doesn’t say another word.
His head tilts to the side and his mouth slams down against my own.
There is no turning back from this, no running away, not this time.
I want Ford Matthews, every single inch of him, and the simple life that comes with him.
Chapter Eleven
FORD
This is it. Reaching for her cardigan, I slide it down her arms, letting it fall to the floor at our feet. Reaching for the hem of her little night top, I don’t wrench it off the way that I want to. Instead, I decide to take my time.
Running the backs of my fingers along her belly, her muscles tremble against my touch. Sliding my tongue inside of her mouth, I taste her. She whimpers against my lips, the sound gliding down my throat, and I fucking love it.
Slowly, I glide the thin silky fabric of her top farther up her torso. Her entire body shivers as I expose the bottom of her tits. Gently breaking the kiss, I suck her bottom lip between mine as I graze the soft skin of her tits with the backs of my fingers.
“Ford,” she groans as her hands glide up my arms and her fingertips dig into my shoulders.
Inching up her full breasts, I cup them, feeling the softness against my calloused hands. Gliding my thumb across the hardened buds, her entire body shivers in my arms. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve witnessed in years.
Her arms lift in a silent demand for me to remove her top. I don’t want to just because she’s asked me, but I do. Sliding it up her arms, I lift my face from hers and look down at her as I lift the fabric from her body, exposing her chest for my eyes.
The lights are on, and I’m not going to make a single move to darken the room. I want every second of tonight seared into my memory banks for the rest of my days. Tossing the top onto the bed, I watch her for a moment, needing to sear this moment into my memory banks.
Stephanie’s hands find the hem of my sopping wet shirt and peels it up my body as high as she can. Reaching down, I finish the job, tossing it toward the small bathroom. I hear it slap against the linoleum as it lands.
She doesn’t allow me to reach out for her again, instead she leans forward, her mouth touching the center of my chest—the center of my scar.
Lifting my hand to the back of her head, I tug the tie out of her hair and watch in awe as it tumbles down her back and the sides of her face. She lifts her eyes up at me, they’re wide and blue as her tongue traces my surgical scar.
“Honey,” I grunt as I slide my fingers into her hair, fisting the soft strands.
Tugging her head back, I look down into her face. She licks her lips, the water droplets from the rain and my chest on her lips. I watch as her mouth curves up into a smile and her eyes search mine, her expression nothing short of mischievous.
Reaching forward with my other hand, I wrap my fingers around the front of her throat. “Tell me,” I demand.
She licks her lips and nods slightly. “Anything,” she breathes.
“What’s off the table, Stephanie?”
Her eyes search mine, they look deep into mine and hard. She’s trying to find out what I want from her. All she has to do is ask. She may not like the answer. I want everything. At least while I have her in my bed, in my arms, I want everything she could possibly give me—and so much more.
“Nothing, Cowboy.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
She nods, her lips curling up into a soft smile. “Yeah, Ford. I’m not the sweet girl I once was.”
I hum, dipping my chin, my mouth hovering above hers. “You still taste sweet as sugar, honey.”
“Fuck me, Ford. God, I can’t take another second,” she whimpers.
Lifting my mouth away from her, my lips hover above her own, touching her only when I speak. “Oh, you can take a helluva lot more, honey. Thanks for the challenge.”
“Ford,” she hisses.
Taking a step away from her, I lick my bottom lip, running my teeth along it as I watch her. She shifts from barefoot to barefoot, her eyes looking from mine to my chest then back up again.
“Why is that scar sexy?” she asks.
I snort. “Chicks dig scars. It’s just a simple fucking fact. Now, ditch those sexy little shorts,” I gruffly demand.
She shakes her head, her hair flying around her arms as she does just what I’ve demanded. When her shorts and panties are at her feet, she lifts her gaze to meet mine. “What about you?” she asks.
“Later.” I grin.
In a single step, I close the distance between us. Reaching out, I wrap my hands around her waist and pick her up. She’s so fucking light, I wonder if she actually fucking eats. If she does, I have no doubt that it’s some fad bullshit of a diet and it certainly doesn’t include the good southern food she was raised on.
Tossing her onto the bed, I smirk when she lets out a squeal as she bounces against the mattress. I watch her, enjoying the way she moves, the way her tits bounce specifically. Honestly, I thought she’d have had them done as most women seem to do in Hollywood, but they’re all fucking natural.
Climbing onto the bed, I wrap my fingers around her ankles and slowly spread her legs apart. Her knees are bent, and I can’t look anywhere but between her thighs. I feel like a dying man, my heart slows down as her body is revealed to me.
Fuck.
She’s beautiful, everywhere, just as she always was.
“Touch me, Cowboy,” she softly begs.
Leaning forward, I blow cool air against her pussy. She lets out a breathy sigh, arching her back and shifting closer to my face. Her silent demand is cute and she’ll get what she wants, but not when she wants it.
Not from me.
My fingers dance up the inside of her calves, passing her knees then pressing against the inside of her inner thighs. She relaxes her legs, allowing them to open farther at the same time I lower myself, fitting my shoulders between her legs.
“Yes,” she hisses.
She’s going to be disappointed, because I’m not eating her sweet cunt, not yet at least. Turning my head, I touch the inside of her knee, kissing, licking and gently biting my wait toward the apex of her thigh.
Stopping before I reach her sweet spot, I shift toward the other side, touching the apex of her thigh and working my way down to the underside of her knee. Her hand flies to my hair, her fingers gripping me as she jerks my head back.
My lips twitch into a smile as I look into her completely frustrated and adorable as fuck face.
“Stephanie?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Please, Ford. It’s been so long.”
“Yeah?” I ask in surprise. “How long?”
Her gaze shifts to the side, then comes back to meet mine as her cheeks tint pink with embarrassment. “A year.”