Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(97)
I whimper when he steps back and moves to the end of the bed, his knees bumping against my ankles as he steps close.
The Egyptian cotton sheets are silky between my fingers when I grip them. Cool and soft and too damn nice for the ways we’re about to deface them.
“Stop pretending to be shy and spread your legs, Rosie. I want to see that tight little pussy drip for me.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper, but there’s no venom; in fact, it comes out more like a plea. And there’s no fight. I let my knees slide across the sheets, feeling my wetness seep out as I do.
His satisfied groan does nothing but confirm it.
“That’s what you need. To get fucked. I can see that much.” His words rumble over my spine, and I feel his heat as he comes to stand behind me. “It’s what I need too,” he adds as he runs the bare head of his cock through my folds. “What I’ve always wanted.”
He carries on teasing me, his words slow and measured.
Totally unhurried.
“So, I’m going to enjoy this. Watching you make a mess for me. Fucking you. Making you come until your legs give out and the only thing keeping this ass up for me are those pillows.”
He slides in fast and hard. Palms on my ass, cock shoved snug inside me.
“Yes,” I moan, arching my back and pushing into him.
His fingers flex.
“Wish you could see the way you look stuffed full of me, baby. So fucking right.”
“Yes.” I move my hips against him again. “So fucking right,” is my hushed response, repeating his words.
His movements start out exacting and measured. Every thrust in just as painstakingly even as each glide out. I know he’s watching me take him. And that turns me on. Knowing he can’t look away, knowing he’s getting off on the view of me stretched around his cock.
I turn my head to meet his emerald gaze. I bite my bottom lip and clench around his overwhelming thickness. An unspoken challenge that he recognizes with a growl. With fingertips that dig into my ass and measured strokes that border on punishing.
A smile touches my lips as he fucks me into the bed. Our skin slaps as he pounds me hard enough that I lose purchase. I give in and let the pillows take my weight while Ford forces me to see stars.
I get lost in him.
His hands.
His body.
The way he plays mine with such mastery.
It’s a blur, a high I’ll never be able to recreate.
I shatter, screaming his name, and my legs give out as he showers me with kisses. He works his way up my spine, thrusting once, hard, and then follows. Erupting before draping himself over me. Our damp bodies pressed together, heaving through sharp, ragged breaths. He brushes his nose against the shell of my ear. A touch that somehow overflows with tenderness.
A touch that makes me turn my head and whisper what I’ve known for some time.
“I love you, Ford.”
He just nuzzles against me again and responds with a quiet, “I’ve always loved you, Rosie.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
FORD
I wake up wrapped around Rosie like I’m a child snuggling with my favorite teddy bear. Her torso curves into mine, my legs framing the backs of hers. I’ve got an arm draped over her shoulder and my hand covers hers completely, our fingers linked.
She smells like the lilacs that grow down by the lake, and she feels like heaven.
She feels like home.
She feels like she’s finally mine.
I shut my eyes and nuzzle down into her neck, trailing the tip of my nose over the shell of her ear. Breathing her in, letting her hair catch in the bristled stubble on my chin. I want so badly to drift back to sleep, to spend all day like this.
But there’s a subtle buzzing going on somewhere in the room. Annoying, like a fly buzzing around my head. Intruding on our peace just enough that agitation flares inside me. And then concern takes hold as I think about Cora and whether anything could be wrong.
She’s mine but not. Bearing the burden of safeguarding her until her mother recovers is an immense pressure. And it’s that stress that pulls me from the warmth of the bed and the comfort of Rosie’s sleeping body.
She stirs as I search the room. We were in such a frenzy last night that I’m not sure where our phones are. Her tiny, pearl-encrusted clutch is dropped by the front door, but when I touch it, it’s not vibrating.
The buzzing stops, then picks up again, and worry flares inside me. I turn, heading toward the pile of clothes that are actually an expensive tuxedo. The jacket is tangled up in the pants, and my fingers scramble to separate it as the noise grows louder. I lift the jacket and shove a hand into the inside pocket, my gut dropping hard and fast when I see my lawyer’s name flashing on the screen.
The heavy, gasping way I suck in a breath has Rosie’s eyes flipping open as every worst-case scenario flashes through my mind. Which is why I’m equal parts relieved and surprised when I pick up with a “What?” and Belinda answers with, “Why are you ignoring your calls? Weston Belmont got arrested last night, and I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for hours.”
Rosie sits up in the bed, not bothering to cover herself. She’s stunning. All warm and rumpled and wearing a bite mark on her left breast from last night.
It’s a shame she’s about to be really fucking mad at me.