47. Ford
CHAPTER 47
FORD
Ava’s still asleep when I slip out of bed. She’s curled on her side, tangled up in my black sheets like something out of a fever dream, bare skin peeking out, one leg kicked free and an arm draped above her head. Her breathing is slow, steady. Peaceful, even. A quiet contrast to everything she lit on fire last night.
She didn’t argue when I brought her in here, still half-dazed from the events of the evening. The drinks, the fight, the aftermath. Wes had already passed out on the couch, and Raf… well, I don’t really give a fuck where he wound up. He pushed her hard enough that she ended up in my bed, so he’d better not bitch about another sleepover. I didn’t twist her arm, I just opened the door.
Stepping into the en-suite bathroom, I shut the door quietly behind me, turning on the shower and peeling off my boxers. It only takes a minute or so to warm up before I step into the steamy glass cubicle, the spray hitting me like a purge– scalding, cleansing, and necessary. I stand there and let it burn, the heat searing through the fog in my brain, loosening the twisted tangle of last night’s memories.
I tilt my head back under the stream and picture Ava in here with me, soaked and silent, water sliding down the curve of her spine. That defiant look she gets when she’s fighting not to need me. The way her voice cracks when she’s trying not to beg.
I know she’ll turn that fire on Raf, too. She already has. He’s still pretending he can ignore it, like that’ll make it go away, but he’s already in too deep. She’ll be his too, eventually, and then we can all stop pretending that this isn’t what we needed.
Twisting the handle to kill the water, I step out and quickly towel off, tugging on a fresh pair of boxers. Then I turn to head back into my bedroom, a slow smile curving my lips.
Wonder if she’s awake yet.
Opening the door, I step out of the bathroom to find Ava sitting on the edge of the bed, the sheet clutched to her chest like it’s armor. Her face is pale, eyes wide and unfocused staring down at the phone in her hand, looking as if someone just yanked the ground out from under her.
My phone.
“What are you doing with that?” I ask, my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my chest.
“You were getting a call,” she whispers, avoiding my eyes. “I grabbed it to bring it to you, but…”
“But?” I step forward, hand out. “Give it.”
Rather than handing it over, she pulls my phone in closer to her chest, finally looking up at me with the pain of betrayal in her eyes– the kind that cuts deep. The kind you don’t come back from.
“Who’s Drew?” she asks shakily.
“My brother,” I reply with a shrug. “Why?”
Her grip around my phone tightens. “Why did you send him that picture of me?”
My jaw ticks with annoyance. So that’s what this is about.
She must’ve seen the message I sent him the other night, the picture I snapped of her spread out on our father’s hotel bed in black lingerie with my cum coating her thighs. I don’t regret sending it. Not for a second.
The corner of my mouth ticks up. “Why not? You’re hot, Ava baby. I like showing you off.”
Her whole body stiffens, eyes glassy and sharp all at once. “You sent it to your brother ,” she repeats, like she’s trying to make sense of it, trying not to scream.
I shrug again, taking a step closer. “Yeah. So?”
Her arm cocks back and she throws the phone at me, aiming to injure, but her hands are trembling too much. The throw is weak and I catch it easily.
Ava shoves up from the bed, wrapping the sheet tightly around her body. I can see the rage building, choking her from the inside out. It’s a thing of beauty.
“He texted back,” she grits out, her voice breaking. “Asked if he could have a turn.”
I laugh before I can stop myself– not because it’s funny, but because of course he did. That’s Drew, always sniffing around other people’s property.
“Typical,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Big bro’s got a thing for my sloppy seconds.”
“Fuck you, Ford!” Ava spits, shaking with fury.
I fight a grin. Her anger’s always been my favorite flavor.
“What?” I ask innocently. “You want to indulge him? I saw the way you were looking at him at the gala.”
That gets her. She sucks in a breath like I’ve just punched her in the gut, eyes going glassy, mouth set in a tight line.
“You’re unbelievable,” she huffs.
“And you’re a Doll,” I say, giving her a pointed look. “A pretty little toy for us to wind up. Or have you forgotten your place, Ava baby?”
Her control over her composure fractures. It’s just a hairline crack, but I see it all the same. Her fingers grip the sheet, knuckles whitening as she starts backing toward the door.
“I’m not a toy,” she grits out. “I’m not something you get to just use and pass around.”
“Sure you are,” I reply, cool and detached. “You just haven’t accepted it yet.”
She gapes at me, every emotion playing out on her face. Fury, disgust, heartbreak. It should probably make me feel something other than annoyed, but she’s making a big deal out of nothing. It was just a picture, a joke between my brother and I. Honestly, it was less about her and more about bragging that I soiled our dad’s hotel bed.
Ava’s chestnut hair whips behind her as she turns and storms out of my bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
I don’t go after her. Not because I can’t, but because I don’t have to. She’ll be back as soon as she calms down and realizes she overreacted. She always comes back.
I pick up the phone from where it landed on the bed and swipe open the messages. Drew’s text is still there, my eyes flickering over the text. Then I type one back just to fuck with him.
She says she can’t wait.
I chuckle to myself as I toss my phone back down on the bed, heaving a sigh and stretching my arms over my head. I suppose most people would feel guilty for upsetting someone like that, but I wasn’t wired for normal human emotion. No semblance of a conscience was woven into my DNA– I was built to take what I want and leave everything else to burn.
And Ava?
She’s the match I keep striking.