I nod, unable to say anything in response to her words. She’s not wrong, not at all. In fact, she makes more sense than anyone else has. She has been through a similar experience with Beaumont, she isn’t just talking out of her ass.
If she says that this can be more than just reminiscing over the past, then I need to at least try.
Not just for Stephanie, but for myself too.
Like Hutton said, there has to be a reason that neither of us moved on and not just because of lack of closure. I can’t believe that lack of closure can keep two people in relationship limbo for seventeen fucking years.
Chapter Twenty-Three
STEPHANIE
Damion pulls up to my house and I don’t see it at first, but he does. I hear him gasp. Looking forward, I open my eyes, widening them at the sight of the man leaning against my house, next to my front door.
I want to talk to him, but I’m not ready. It’s too soon. I wanted to pick the moment, I wanted to call him, go to him. Once again, he’s ambushed me, and I hate it. He has always done this, always just been there, even when I wasn’t ready for him.
“Girlie, even in the daylight he is a sexy, broody mess.”
“I’m not ready,” I breathe.
He whistles. “I don’t think he cares, his luggage is leaning against the house, too.”
My heart starts to race. Glancing around, I look to see if there are any paparazzi cameras around. I don’t know what I would do if they caught wind of Ford, it would be a complete frenzy.
He’s just what Damion said that he was, a sexy, broody mess and the industry would eat him up, he’d be on every magazine rag and gossip website around. I know for a fact that he photographs well, too well.
“He’s looking at me,” I whisper.
Damion chuckles as he shifts the car into park. “He is, and he looks hungry, girlie.”
“Fuck,” I grunt.
“You can say that again. Oohhhh, he’s coming over here.”
Shifting my gaze over to Damion, I narrow my eyes on him. “Would you stop it, I can see,” I snap. Damion’s lips curve up into a grin.
“Honey, he is so damn fine. They have any gay cowboys in Texas? I want one,” he murmurs.
The door flies open at his words and I almost fall out of the car since I was resting my back against the door. Thankfully, I’m wearing my seatbelt. I feel Ford’s presence, he lowers behind me, and I know he’s crouched down.
Damion is just smiling, his lips wide and his perfectly straight teeth on display. I purse my lips together, wishing that I could throw something at him. Relaxing my bitch face, slowly I turn to look at Ford.
His lips are twitching into their own smile, his eyes searching mine. He’s wearing an old dirty ball cap, and his Pearl Snap Button Shirt is half-open, showing just the top of his scar.
“Ford,” I say coolly.
His mouth turns up into a smile. He reaches forward, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Hey, honey. Wanted to talk,” he states.
Nodding my head, I press my lips together and bite the inside of my cheek as I watch him. His eyes are searching mine, watching me for a reaction. I don’t give it to him. I don’t give him any idea of how much I want him. How just his presence alone makes me weak in the knees and aching for his touch.
“Well kiddies, I’m out of here. If you need me, Stephanie, you know where to find me,” Damion loudly calls out.
Neither of us says a word as we continue to stare at one another. We’re supposed to talk. After spending all evening at his side last night and not talking to him, not touching him, I don’t know how I’m supposed to have a conversation with him tonight.
All I want to do is grab a hold of the sides of his shirt and hear those pearl snaps pop open.
Ford lifts his hand and I think that he’s going to touch my face again, but he doesn’t. Instead he reaches for my seatbelt release and I hear it click. He guides the belt from across my chest and lets it hang loosely at my side.
“C’mon now,” he murmurs, his voice low, raspy and sexy as shit.
“We’re going to talk,” I exhale.
He chuckles. “Yeah, after.”
“After?”
He hums as he stands, holding his palm out for me to take. Slipping my hand in his, I shift my legs and plant both of my feet on the concrete before I stand.
I’m in a dress, one that I chose for the interview, not something from wardrobe. It’s leopard print, not too low-cut, but just enough. It’s loose and flowy so that the camera doesn’t catch even a tiny roll in my stomach if I’m sitting.
The black high heels I’m wearing click against the concrete as Ford guides me toward my front door. I don’t bother looking for paparazzi anymore. It doesn’t matter if they’re here or not. Let them get their fill of Ford Matthews.
My hand trembles as I search for my house keys in my handbag. I finally grab a hold of them and reach for the door. Ford doesn’t allow me to open my front door alone, especially since I miss the lock about three times in a row.
Reaching for my keys, he wraps his fingers around mine, guiding my hand toward the door and together we unlock the deadbolt before we turn the knob and he gently pushes the door open. My house is quiet, the sounds of only our shoes and his rolling luggage filling the space as we walk inside.
Before I can turn around to ask him if he wants something to drink, to see if he needs anything, I feel his hands wrap around my waist from behind and his mouth touches the side of my neck.
“Ford?”
“Fuck talk, Stephanie,” he murmurs against my skin.
Shaking my head, my eyes flutter closed when I feel his mouth against my neck. Moaning, I drop my head back until it lands against his shoulder with a soft thump. One of his hands slides up my stomach until it reaches the bodice of my dress.
His fingers dive into the top of my dress, cupping my breast from over the top of my bra. His other hand slowly slides down to my hip and he bunches the fabric of my dress in his hand, tugging it up my thighs.
“Ford,” I breathe.
It seems all I can say is his name, nothing else will come out. He hums against my skin, his tongue tasting me, then his teeth nip me and goosebumps break out all over my body.
“We really should talk,” I mumble.
“After,” he grunts as his fingers tug down the cup of my bra and find my nipple.
He rolls my already hard bud between his fingers before he gently tugs on the piercing. I moan, my thighs shaking and the warmth pools in my belly at the same time my pussy spasms.
“Fine,” I sigh. “After.”
FORD
I would laugh at her obvious frustration and annoyance, then surrender, but I don’t. It’s sexy as fuck, just like she is. I don’t know what’s really been going on since she left Gallup. I should probably ask if she ended up hooking back up with that fucker, hear it straight from her whether they’re together or not, but I find that I don’t really want the answer, at least not yet.
All I want is to be inside of her again, to fuck her until she can’t breathe, to claim her as my own, at least for the moment if nothing else.
“Ford, please,” she whimpers.