Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Ford’s expression shifts, the cocky smirk, and erotic growls of before gone. It’s replaced with a cool expression that not a lot of people can read. But I know he’s hesitant in letting me deal with this. He dealt with Hawke last time. Now, it’s my turn to deal with Posie. But, fuck me, we couldn’t be any worse at hiding this even if we tried.
I’m startled as he steps closer and rubs his thumb against my lips, slowly and sensually. It feels like a caress as much as it does him, wiping away the last remains of our moment together. I must’ve smudged my lipstick. He, however, looks immaculate since he had longer to adjust himself inside the car.
“Go,” I whisper. He hesitates but does as he’s told, and I’m relieved that in whatever wild understanding we have, Ford will listen to my commands. Sometimes.
Posie steps closer to me, and I hold my breath as her hand grips my arm. I’m confused, but I understand it’s her way of comforting me. But I also want to cry because I really don’t want Dutton to find out. I was stupid. I was reckless. I shouldn’t have asked Ford to meet me in his car.
“If you don’t want Ford to die, please don’t say anything,” I whisper. I know it’s a low blow and unfair of me to ask, but I’ll do anything to protect this secret.
The front door opens, and I startle when I see Dutton standing there. My heart is pounding as my brother makes his way toward us. Shit, does he already know? I try my best at a smile. He looks confused for a moment, then says to Posie, “You were gone too long.”
An involuntary sigh escapes me as Posie’s hand drops from my arm. I can’t beg or plead my case with her anymore. I have to pray that whatever friendship we’ve built over the last year is enough to keep this secret between us.
I walk away, fully aware that I’m not welcome by the way my brother’s gaze devours Posie, and I’m disheartened to know that, once again, he can have that but won’t let me have the same.
What Ford and I have is only about sex, but it doesn’t mean that one day I don’t want to find someone I can share a bond with, the same type of bond that Dutton and Posie have. But I know my brother will do anything to destroy the potential of that. No one will ever be good enough for him. And before I reach the door to the house, frustrated tears are pricking my eyes.
It’s ridiculous and unfair. I’m the daughter of two of the most powerful people in New York. I have mafia blood running through my veins, for fuck’s sake. But the two prominent things I’ve taken from my parents are my father’s temper—I’m not good at controlling mine like he, and my brother are, though—and my mother’s heart, forever big and wild and curious. And completely at odds with how to handle all of these restrictions.
My nails curl into my palms. I want to obliterate all of the shackles my brother has placed on me. I’m not a fucking princess in a tower.
So why am I crying like one?
My mother notices me in the hallway, and her smile falters. “We’re just about to serve some sweets. Honey, is everything okay?”
“Give my portion to Ford,” is all I say as I try to hide the bubbling tears as I walk to my room and slam the door.
CHAPTER 5
Billie
Present Day
“Stay still.” Ford says from beside me. I awkwardly pin him with a glare from over my shoulder as I lie on my stomach.
“I can’t. You’re looking directly at my ass, and it’s weird.” I try to stay as still as possible, but I can’t. It’s not just because my ass is on display for him, but it’s also kind of ticklish in a painful way.
The buzzing sound starts again, and I glance over my shoulder to where one of his hands is wielding the tattoo gun, and the other holds my ass in place. His dark eyes lock onto mine. “If you don’t hold still, I’ll bite the other cheek.” I can’t help but smirk at his threat. “Stop it,” he growls, knowing full well how much I like his mouth anywhere on me.
I try to distract myself by looking around the room, taking in the darkly painted walls. It’s a small room in Ford’s home that he uses purely for tattooing. A tray and counter in the corner for his items and ridiculously good designs sketched by Ford hung on the wall. When I inquired about them, he said it was his adoptive mother, Anya, who had them put up for display. Apparently, she thought the room was dreary with bare walls, but part of me wonders if it’s because she was proud of his talent and wanted to showcase them. Then again, I don’t know if someone like Anya Ivanov has the capacity to be proud or encouraging like a normal parent might. I’ve never understood the twins’ relationship with her and River, but I know undeniably that the twins speak about them with reverence.