Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(79)

You’re fucking perfect. I missed you like crazy this weekend. I wouldn’t feel trapped with you.

In the past, sentiments like that might have triggered an alarm. I’ve never been one to get easily attached. But with Ford, they don’t read like cheap pickup lines. They don’t make sirens go off in my head.

All I feel is a warm, floating sensation low in my belly. Like tension unfurling, soothing all the anxiety. Washing away that pesky itching sensation I always feel in his presence.

“Ah!” I jump when I see my roommate, the little brown mouse, scurry across the floor and run under my bed. “Seriously, dude,” I grumble, tugging on jeans and a sweater, feeling like I need to get out and walk, or be around other humans, or something—pace a circle or some shit. “You don’t need to run out and startle me like that. Just be cool. Strut out like you own the place. I’m too soft to evict you anyway. I’ll just make sure my brother doesn’t find out about you.”

I hear the light patter of him scurrying across the floor. He pops out on the other side of the bed, heading for the kitchen.

“I should name you Ratatouille.”

I watch it. Little, round ears. Beady, black eyes. I should take issue with a mouse in my space, but I just… don’t.

“Good point,” I say to absolutely no one. “You’re not a rat. I get it. I do. What about Scotty?”

Now that would be entertaining. I laugh at myself as it creeps along under the lower ledge of the cupboards, and I find myself watching it. Little nose sniffing, whiskers wiggling as it searches for crumbs.

Crumbs it finds—because I put them there.

“It would be nice if you could keep your poop outside. I’m getting a little tired of vacuuming and washing the floor every day.”

A knock at the door draws my attention away, and I walk across the open bunkhouse to yank it open. I was expecting West, but Ford is standing right in front of me. Filling all the space with his imposing height and broad shoulders.

His hair is damp, and he’s wearing a brown cable-knit sweater. The white T-shirt underneath peeks out, and I glimpse the flash of his silver chain disappearing beneath the layers.

He props a hand on the top of the doorframe, leaning in a bit closer. “Hi.”

My eyes travel back up to his. And what I see there is… nerves. He looks nervous.

“Hi.” I smile softly, take a deep whiff of him, and reach forward, hooking one finger around the chain and pulling it out. I brush my thumb along the tarnished key and shake my head. I still can’t believe he held onto it for all these years.

“Who were you talking to?”

“My mouse,” I reply absently.

“Your mouse?”

“Yeah, Scotty.”

I peek up at Ford and his grumpy, heavyset brows. The high peaks of his model-like cheekbones. No wonder they named him the world’s sexiest billionaire. The monetary status is just a gimmick for a face that is most definitely magazine-worthy.

“You named the mouse, who is living in your house, Scotty?”

“Yeah.”

A tendon at the edge of his jaw pops. “Why?”

“To piss you off.”

He rolls his eyes at me in his signature bitchy way. “You think I’m going to be jealous of a mouse?”

I lean against the doorframe, stare up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and shrug.

We have a stare-off, which is nothing new, but there’s an added heat. An added knowing.

“You’re infuriating,” he grumbles, and then he drops his head to kiss me, and I smile against his lips.

This kiss is different. It’s not edged in anger or frustration or overbearing tension.

It’s achingly sweet. Not soft, but drawn out. Again, his knuckles stroke along my cheek, and a shiver races down my spine. I step closer, wanting to be wrapped up in him.

Again.

All night.

All day.

If Ford were a blanket, I’d pull him over my shoulders and walk around like I was wearing a cape.

His tongue swipes against mine and his hand settles on my throat. “I came to invite you to our bonfire tonight.” His breath is damp against my lips. “But now that I know Scotty has moved in with you, I think you should pack your bags and stay with me instead.”

The tip of my nose runs over the stubble at the edge of his sharp jawline. “That might raise some eyebrows on the professional front. You fuck me once and move me in with you?”

He lands one hard kiss against my lips before pulling away and stepping back. “You know I don’t give a damn what people think of me. You can stay in the guest room if that’s more professional for you. I can fuck you just as easily in there.” He hits me with a cocky smirk, stepping farther back as though he’s preparing to leave. “Because we both know it wasn’t only once. It was just the first time.”

I bark out a laugh, grinning back at him. “I’ll think about it.”

“If you choose a mouse named Scotty over me, I’ll be offended.”

“I meant the bonfire. I’d be an idiot to choose Scotty over you.”

I half close the door on him, pleased with getting the last word in. But then I open it again and see him staring at the bunkhouse with a boyish smile on his face.

“But Ford, we need to tell Weston.”