Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(81)
“With a mouse.”
“Scotty,” I correct him, which earns me an eye roll. “My boss overpays me, so I could probably get my own place. A rental maybe.”
I can tell he’s tense. I can tell the post-sex haze has lost a bit of its luster.
I can tell he’s worried about everyone leaving, even though he’d never say it out loud. I don’t think he’d want me to point it out to him, so I reassure him in the best way I can think of.
“Can I sleep at your house tonight?” That question gets his attention, and he turns an unreadable face to me. A light crease forms between his brows, like he can’t quite figure me out.
And that’s good. I like keeping Ford Grant on his toes.
Which is probably why I add, “Main floor guest room. We’ll keep it professional with Cora around.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ROSIE
The problem is, I don’t want to keep things professional. I said it because it felt like a thing you should say when you start fucking your boss. Now, I’m lying in bed wearing Ford’s shirt, food baby forgotten, wishing he’d sneak down the stairs and crawl in with me.
I try to talk myself out of it so many times. We already almost got caught once. But my body doesn’t care—and neither does my heart. I want his hands in my hair, his warm skin against my own.
Which is why I creep through a dark house and up the stairs, keeping to the edges to avoid any creaking that might wake Cora. One peek into her room at the top of the stairs and I see her sprawled like a starfish. My lips curve up at the sight and then I very, very gently shut her bedroom door before padding down to the primary bedroom at the opposite end of the hallway.
The door is closed and no light shines from beneath. Some people might hesitate to march into Ford’s bedroom.
I am not one of those people. I twist the handle and walk right in. His curtains are open and ambient light from outside filters in through the massive windows. The door clicks shuts behind me and I walk across to the king-sized bed. Much like Cora, he is all long, muscular limbs stretched out in the middle.
Unlike with Cora, I don’t turn away.
I press one knee onto the mattress and crawl in his direction. His breaths are deep and the entire bed has a faint sandalwood smell. I think I’d settle for just lying here beside him, breathing him in.
Instead, I kneel at his side. Soaking him in, so relaxed.He looks younger—more carefree—like this.
With one hand, I trail the tip of my fingers over his lips—just like I did that day in the closet. I’d been on the verge of asking him if he ever thought we could be more. It seemed unfair to me in that moment that one of the best men I’ve ever known was standing right in front of me, telling me how valuable I was, and that I couldn’t have him.
But now the only question I find myself asking is why the hell not?
His big strong hand flies up, steely fingers wrapping around my wrist. “Rosie.”
It’s not a question. He knows it’s me.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing?” he asks from behind closed eyes.
“Touching you.”
His lips curve up in a sinful smile. “I thought we were being professional.”
“Right,” I whisper. “It’s just that I thought about it and decided being professional is overrated. I want you to touch me too.”
For only a moment, I’m taken back to that day in the boardroom. I told Stan that if I wanted him to touch me, I’d tell him.
Ford may be my boss on paper, but nothing about our relationship is reminiscent of that. Nothing between us is dirty—not in that way. Nothing about us needs to be a secret if neither of us wants it to be.
A raspy chuckle spills from him as his green eyes open and dive into my own. Chills erupt from the back of my neck, racing down my spine and over my arms.
“And you kept all your clothes on earlier, which felt distinctly unfair to me. So, I came looking for you.”
“And you found me.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I nod.
“So what now?” he asks from beneath a quirked brow. “I don’t know.” I suddenly feel nervous. I snuck up here with no plan, only knowing I wanted to be close to him. “Do you want me to leave?”
He stares at me extra hard now. It’s borderline unnerving. The weight of his stare. The way my stomach flip-flops under his attention. I’ve never felt this way before.
“No, Rosie. I want you up here.” His voice is soft and deep as he reaches for me. Broad hands circle my waist and I squeal as he hauls me on to him, so I’m straddling his torso.
“Gonna need you to be quiet, baby,” he murmurs as his palms slide up over my quads, tips of his fingers dipping inside my underwear at my hips.
All I can do is nod, lick my lips, and watch how good his hands look roaming over my body.
“N-now what?” I practically stutter.
“Now you’re going to hold on tight to that headboard, sit on my face, and try to keep your mouth shut while I make you come.”
Before I can respond, he’s moved me up, yanked the gusset of my panties to the side, and has his tongue in my pussy.
I gasp and fall forward, holding the headboard like he instructed, more out of needing something to hold on to than because I’m good at following directions.