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)
I’m tempted to put on another layer. Sweatpants, a heavy jacket, anything to put him a little bit further from my skin. It’s half past ten and Ford’s already sitting up reading on his phone, his bedside table lamp glowing, wearing only a pair of loose joggers and nothing on top, his muscular chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, and I doubt my willpower is strong enough to resist him.
The tension’s still there. It’s been floating between us since we spoke earlier today and chose to keep going even though things aren’t perfect. We talked about buying furniture—I have a blank check, hurrah, the fool doesn’t know what he’s about to get himself into—and we talked about lifestyles and what we like to eat and our schedules and all of that stuff. We had dinner, even watched a little TV together, before we came up here to bed.
It was the most mundane night imaginable. He’s putting in an effort. I didn’t think Ford was capable of something so domestic. And yet despite how boring and ordinary everything seemed on the surface, bubbling below that was the constant fear and worry that I might screw something up or he might take things too far, or what if I’m not good enough, or what if he turns out to be a violent psychopath, and a thousand other worries buzz around my head.
Now I’m supposed to go out there, get into bed, and sleep.
I feel like I might explode, but I can’t hide in here forever.
I turn to the door and open it. Ford glances up and stares at me for a few seconds too long. His eyes widen, just a hint, and I feel myself blushing. He licks his lips, tilts his head and lowers his phone, and he’s about to say something, make some stupid joke, but I cut him off before he does.
“I want to make a rule,” I say loudly.
“Okay,” he says and puts his phone aside. “You have my attention.”
I chew on my lip and wring my hands together before holding them out, palms up. “Let’s pretend there’s an invisible line down the middle of the bed. That invisible line is made up of sharks—”
“Sharks?”
“Very hungry sharks with a taste for human flesh.”
“Why not lasers? Or lava?”
“Sharks are scarier. Can you just?” I glare at him and put my hands on my hips.
“Fine, okay, shark line.”
“I want you to swear you won’t cross that line. You’ll respect the sharks. Fear the sharks even. You will not come to my side of the bed tonight under any circumstances.”
A smile quirks his scarred lips. “What if you ask me to?”
“Assume I’m under duress and refuse to comply. Remind me about the sharks.”
“What if I want to?”
“Sharks.”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, and I reconsider this idea but only for a second. One nice arm isn’t going to change my mind, even if it’s a very nice arm. “Okay. I swear I won’t cross the invisible line, but sooner or later we’ll have to call an exterminator to take care of the sharks.”
“Let’s just give it some time, okay?” I move toward the bed, feeling a little bit better. “I’m still new at this.” I climb in and pull the sheets over me and lie there staring at the ceiling not sure what the hell we do now.
Ford hesitates then turns off the light. The room plunges into darkness. “Have you ever shared a bed with a man before?” he asks.
“That’s an extremely rude and personal question.”
He laughs softly and shifts down lower. “That’s a no.”
“Don’t be a jerk. I’ll move the sharks closer to your side.”
“Have you ever had a serious boyfriend? Oh, god, don’t tell me our kiss was your first kiss.”
I glare at him as my eyes adjust to the darkness. He’s looking at me with a massive smirk. “That was not my first kiss, you prick.”
“I figured. You’re much too good of a kisser for you to be completely inexperienced.”
I hesitate and shimmy slightly. “I’m a good kisser?”
“An extremely good kisser.”
“You have a lot of experience then? I mean, with, uh, kissing.”
“Yes, Kat, I have a lot of experience.” His eyes are practically shining in the darkness and I bite my lip trying to imagine Ford with his countless women. I feel a pang of jealousy, but that’s crazy, right? He might’ve gone through dozens of flings and one-night stands, but here I am alone in his bed with him, wearing his ring—
And I don’t care about any of this, he doesn’t mean anything to me, this is just a mutually beneficial arrangement, and I have to keep reminding myself of that.
We lapse into silence. I’m intensely aware of him on his side of the invisible shark line. Each breath, each movement, everything is magnified tenfold. I last maybe thirty seconds before I ask him, “What were you thinking that night? When you came into my cab?”