Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Absolutely not,” I say sharply. “What is the matter with you, Ford? You can’t just—just—kiss me.”
“And yet you kissed me back, and I’m pretty sure I heard at least one moan.”
“I did not moan! Oh my god! It was a yelp of pure astonishment at most.”
“You whimpered like you were enjoying yourself. You groaned into my mouth, you dirty—”
“Ford!”
He laughs and leans forward toward where the cabbie’s sitting stone silent and staring straight ahead like this isn’t happening. “Drop me off at the corner.”
“Sure thing,” the cabbie says and whips the wheel around.
“Think about what I said.” Ford takes a pile of twenties from his pocket and drops them onto the passenger seat. I get a quick glimpse of a few hundred dollars before it disappears into the cabbie’s pocket. “You need a husband. I need a wife. Use that number.”
“Ford. Wait. Hold on. You can’t just—”
He shoves open the door, steps out, and disappears onto the sidewalk. I shift and shimmy, trying to get out and go after him, but he’s already rounding the corner and disappearing.
“You want me to, uh—” the cabbie says.
I slam the door with a frustrated growl. “Take me home,” I say and rattle off the address. “He already paid for it.”
“Lady, I’ll take you to the moon for what he just gave me.” The cabbie laughs at his own joke and starts driving.
I sit there with lips tingling, the ghost of Ford still on my tongue, and stare out the window.
Ford Arc just barged into my cab, flirted with me, kissed me, and said we should get married.
Well, not that last part exactly—but more or less.
This has to be a sick game. It’s got to be some intricate prank. Sara Lynn’s going to jump out from the trunk any second now to take pictures and laugh in my face. She’s going to know how excited I am, how aroused I feel over that kiss, how I’m already planning to go back home to take a very long shower, how much I want to taste Ford’s tongue again—and how deeply, deeply, deeply angry it makes me.
The bastard just walked off.
He kissed me, treated me like I should be happy he’s giving me attention, and walked off.
The arrogant asshole.
The sick, arrogant bastard.
And the worst part is, I hate how my body betrayed me the moment his lips touched mine.
Stupid body doesn’t know what’s good for it.
I need a husband if I want to make my family proud of me for the first time in my life, but that husband will never be Ford Arc. Not now, not in a million years.
I’m supposed to be buying my mother more time to get herself together before Grandfather finally cuts her off entirely.
Not ruining everything by getting involved with a man like Ford.
I will not call him. I will not call him.
I will not call him, no matter what.
Chapter 6
Ford
She doesn’t call me.
I’m surprised by how much that stings. I didn’t really expect her to and still some part of me kept waiting for a text to appear, something flirty and witty, not necessarily dirty, just something that means she’s still thinking about that kiss.
But there’s nothing. And it pisses me off.
“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me,” I say while sitting at the bar of the Oak Club. A half-empty whiskey sweats onto a coaster between my hands.
Carmine laughs and knocks back his drink before asking for another. “From my understanding, you barged into the girl’s cab, basically told her to start sexting with you, and kissed her before running off into the night like some extremely psycho creepy superhero?”
“When you put it that way—”
“You scared the shit out of her, Ford.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You should’ve seen her though. She wasn’t scared, not one tiny bit. She was livid and kind of into it.”
Carmine sighs and swirls his drink. He stares at the ice and shakes his head like he can’t believe I’d do something so stupid, except he’s known me since we went to Blackwoods College together nearly a decade ago now, and the bastard is well aware that I’m basically a crazy person. Besides, I’m not kidding—Kat really did look like she couldn’t get enough of it while simultaneously wishing she could rip off my skull. It was without a doubt the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“What I don’t get is, why her? I mean, I understand what you see in her—the girl is attractive. Not my type, I’m not into redheads, but she’s got a good figure.”
“Beautiful figure,” I agree. “And I happen to very much be into redheads.”
“But still, why her? There are plenty of hot, curvy redheads, if that’s your thing right now. Doesn’t your family hate her family?”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“And is it wrong?”