Chapter Twelve #2
Ford nodded vigorously. “Yes. Upstairs.” He kissed her quickly, grabbed her hand, and turned toward the hall. Looking up at the narrow spiral staircase, he said, “I’d carry you, but I’d probably end up killing both of us.”
This man. Resisting him would be impossible. “Luckily, my legs still work.” Mostly. Except the way he looked at her made her knees a little wobbly.
He followed her so closely up the steps that she could feel his heat at her back.
At the top, she turned left into the room with the double bed, lit by the golden rays of the setting sun through a skylight-style window in the sloped roof.
She sat at the end of the mattress, and leaned back on her good hand, crossing her legs and bouncing her foot like she hadn’t a care.
“Now what?” she asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
Shaking his head lightly, he kneeled in front of her and laid his hands gently on her thighs, stopping her motion.
Lust jolted through her, and she clamped her legs tighter to ease the ache between them.
It had been years since she wanted a man this much.
Basically, since the last time she’d been stuck with him.
Admittedly, this time it was going much better.
Ford’s gaze clocked the movement of her hips, and he gave her a knowing smile that made her stomach flip. “Sling on or off?”
Oh. The damn sling. She’d been doing physical therapy with Henri to regain her full range of motion, and she was almost ready to stop using the support.
And she’d taken her pain meds with dinner, so she was feeling pretty good right now.
“I’ll be careful. Let’s take it off.” She uncrossed her legs and sat up.
Ford helped her ease the sling over her head, and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Reaching for the hem of her shirt, he asked, “May I?”
She nodded, shivering as cool air hit her hot skin, and his fingers trailed up her sides. He waited patiently as she pulled her arm free on her injured side, careful not to move too quickly.
He threw her shirt toward the chair and then sucked in a breath as his gaze fixed on her still healing skin. “Natalie. Jesus.”
So much for sexy. She wanted those words from him, but not like that. She’d been happy to quit bandaging her wound a week ago, but now she almost wished Henri hadn’t given her the green light.
A muscle in Ford’s jaw jumped as he skimmed his thumb over the top of her shoulder, careful to avoid the fresh scar. “I’m not sure—”
Leaning forward, she kissed him to cut him off. No more second guessing this. She grabbed his hand and moved it down to her breast.
He inhaled sharply and squeezed softly, his thumb oh-so-lightly stroking her nipple through the fabric of her soft sports bra.
Her turn to gasp. Apparently reenergized, he moved his other hand to her left breast, and then—thank you, God—followed with his mouth, kissing his way down the unmarred side of her chest before tugging down the cup of her bra to give his tongue access.
Her hips bucked, and the very serious man giving her the rush of a lifetime actually chuckled, but never stopped his heavenly ministrations.
She lay back on the bed, and he followed, putting a knee on the mattress next to her hip. Still worshipping her breast with his mouth, he trailed his fingers down her stomach to the button of her pants.
“Yes, please.” She was so lit up by his touch she could hardly think. All she knew was they both had way too many clothes on.
Ford unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, and tugged at them, but they were too tight to slide off easily.
“Dammit.” He got to his feet, bent low over his task, peppering her stomach with kisses that made her abs jump as he gripped the waistband on her pants and dragged them down her legs, turning them inside out in the process, and bringing her underwear along for the ride. “Success.”
His grin made her a little dizzy. She’d never seen him this lighthearted, almost playful. Holding her gaze, he flung her clothes toward the chair and stood, reaching for the button on his own jeans. He immediately boomeranged back toward her and grabbed the back of his head. “Ow. Fuck.”
Oh, no. Natalie sat up, reaching for him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “Just hit my head on the damn crossbeam.” He pulled his hand away and looked at it, frowning at the dark splotches on his fingers.
“Ford, you’re bleeding.” She popped to her feet, and tugged him toward the bed. “Come on. Sit.” She grabbed a few tissues from a box on the nightstand and handed them to him.
He wiped the blood from his fingers and sank onto the mattress, pressing the wad of tissues to the crown of his head. While he followed her orders, she found her underwear and quickly slid it on. She pressed a switch near the door, turning on the bright overhead light.
“Let’s see how it looks.” She stood between his knees, feeling a little less awkward with her lower half now covered, even if it was only by a scrap of silky blue fabric.
Her mind had switched into “care” mode, but her body still thrummed with feel-good hormones, and she leaned into his thigh to keep steady. “Can you tilt your head forward?”
“Nat.” One of his big hands settled on her bare waist. “I’m fine.”
Shivering at his warm touch—and the casual nickname—she gently cupped the back of his neck. “The sooner you let me check, the sooner we can get back to what we were doing.”
His head dropped forward immediately.
A small laugh escaped her. His forehead rested against her sternum, and her skin tingled at the feel of his warm breath on her skin. Focus. She settled her fingers lightly on the balled tissue. “I’ve got it.”
Once he dropped his hand, she lifted the makeshift dressing and smoothed aside his hair with the gentlest touch possible.
At his moan, she jerked her hand away. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
Okay, then. Her stomach fluttered, and now she desperately wanted to know what other kinds of noises she could get out of this stoic man.
Instead, she held his hair to the side and found the tiny cut that marred his scalp.
There was no obvious swelling, and the bleeding had already stopped. “I think we might need to amputate.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m a fucking riot.”
“You are fucking something. Hopefully me.”
She huffed out a laugh, loving that she got to see this side of him.
His hands skimmed down her hips, catching her underwear and pulling it until it dropped to her ankles. “So, am I going to live?” He punctuated the question with a kiss to her breast.
Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she stopped fighting her desire. “Not if we do it right.”