Chapter 18
Violet
I woke to the unfamiliar weight of someone else in my bed. For a few disoriented seconds, I forgot who it was. My walls weren’t up yet, my defenses not in place, and I let myself bask in the warmth of the solid body beside me, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way I felt…safe.
Then it hit me. Ford. And just like that, the fragile comfort cracked.
Last night had been a mistake. Not the sex. I wasn’t about to pretend that hadn’t been incredible. It had been exactly what I wanted, exactly what I craved. Raw, physical, uncomplicated. Or at least that’s what it should have been.
But the conversation in bed afterward? That was the perilous part. I’d told him too much. Opened up more than I’d planned. And the way he’d insisted I deserved the kind of happy ending Madison and Andrea had…god help me, I almost believed him.
Almost.
But that almost wasn’t something I could afford to indulge in. Believing a man, trusting him, was how my mother had lost herself piece by piece until there was nothing left. I wasn’t going to make that same mistake.
Sex, I knew how to handle. Sex was control, a language I could speak fluently.
I could flirt. I could tease. I could take a man to bed and let him think he was getting all of me while keeping the parts that mattered locked away.
With Ford, it should have been no different.
A distraction. A pressure valve released.
Something to silence the ache without risking anything real.
Giving in to Ford was easy. Too easy. His body against mine, his hands everywhere, his dominance in the bedroom and the heat that flared between us…those were the things I could handle and make sense of. No promises, no permanence, no danger of heartbreak if I kept it in that neat little box.
Except Ford didn’t let it stay in that box and I wasn’t sure what to do with those pesky feelings for him that were starting to surface.
* * *
The sex after the party at his parent’s house definitely opened the floodgates, and over the next several days Ford and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and I didn’t want to.
I told myself I could enjoy this aspect of our situationship without letting it mean more, but god, everything about him was addictive.
We didn’t go back to the club, but that didn’t stop us from getting kinky.
Ford ordered toys and other items off the internet.
With the leather cuffs and restraints he’d selected, I let him spread me wide across my own bed, wrists anchored to the headboard while he settled between my legs and did wicked, unspeakable things to my pussy with his tongue, and toys, until I was sobbing and begging for release.
One night, he used a spreader bar, locking my ankles apart so I couldn’t close them even when the sensations became too much.
He introduced me to a crop after I’d sassed him one too many times, and he used toys I hadn’t dared to keep in my nightstand—dildos, clamps, a butt plug, a cock ring for him, and other items that pushed me right up to the edge of what I thought I could handle.
As we indulged our physical chemistry, I found a fun balance between submission and rebellion.
Some days I pushed him, bratty and defiant until he reminded me exactly who was in charge.
Other days I slipped into obedience, chasing his praise like it was the only thing that mattered.
And the truth was, Ford seemed to enjoy both sides of me equally.
That was the part that turned me on the most, because even when he had me tied up, gagged, or bent over for a spanking, I wasn’t powerless.
I decided whether I’d be his good girl, or a brat, and he never once tried to take that choice away from me.
Somehow, that made me feel more powerful than anything else.
And more connected to him than I wanted to admit.
The other complication was Ford’s family, who still believed we were together.
“Laney wants you to sign up for a walkathon this weekend with her,” Ford said one morning, leaning against the counter with his coffee mug, discussing his sisters as though they’d already folded me into their lives. “And Liza’s been hinting about taking you out to lunch.”
“Wow, they really want me to be part of the family, huh?” The wistful edge in my voice betrayed me, and I silently cursed that slip up.
“Apparently,” Ford replied, his tone neutral.
I focused on rinsing the breakfast dishes, needing the distraction.
“Would you like me to give them your number?” Ford asked after a beat.
I set another plate in the dish rack, then turned to him with a raised brow. “I don’t see the point, considering I’m going to ‘break up’ with you soon.” I even did air quotes for emphasis.
“They won’t fault you for that,” he said easily, taking a sip of his coffee, looking too damn gorgeous with his hair slightly mussed, a t-shirt that clung to his chest and biceps in all the right ways, and dark jeans that sat low on his hips and fit just right. “They’ll happily blame me.”
“If they have my number, they’ll press me for information about the breakup,” I pointed out, drying my hands on a dish towel. “I don’t want to talk badly about you.”
Not even to protect myself, which said more than I liked about my feelings for him. I didn’t want to bash Ford to his sisters when he hadn’t done anything wrong in this scenario. We weren’t even together for real, so it wasn’t as though he could break my heart. Not officially.
“That’s fair.” He cleared his throat, shifting the subject. “Laney says she’d like more people to walk with her, but what she really needs are sponsors.”
“Wow, subtle,” I drawled, crossing my arms over my chest and giving him a look, knowing what he was hinting at. “You’re not even trying to hide that pitch.”
He chuckled. “You work for a casino.”
“A corporate casino that doesn’t sponsor small, local walkathons. They throw money at the big, flashy stuff like national charities and black-tie galas that get them name recognition.” A thought struck and I paused. “Actually, Christopher’s museum might sponsor a walkathon.”
Ford tilted his head. “Christopher works at a museum?”
I nodded. “I know it doesn’t sound like him.
It’s a temporary job. He wants to go to community college and focus on a degree in something techy.
” I couldn’t help smiling, pride swelling in my chest when I thought about Christopher finally getting his shit together.
“Right now, he’s at one of those touristy museums on the strip where they rotate art, jewelry, artifacts, and cultural events. Those kinds of things.”
Ford considered that. “Do you think the owners would be open to sponsoring?”
“Maybe.” I thought for a moment. “I could drop in at the museum and see what Christopher thinks.”
“We can go today since you’re off,” Ford offered.
“Sure.” It would be nice to get out and I wouldn’t mind checking in on my brother anyway. We’d texted regularly, but I hadn’t seen him since the day after my accident. “Let me change and we can go.”
I opted for a cute pair of pink capri jeans and a black polka dot halter top, and pulled my hair up in a casual ponytail.
I was tempted to text Christopher and give him a heads-up, but the idea of surprising him appealed more.
We arrived at the museum during his early lunch break, and we found him in the break room after being directed there by his co-worker.
He was clearly startled to see me. “Violet, hey.”
He pushed his chair back and stood as I moved in for a hug. He stiffened against me, and pulled away almost instantly.
“Sorry,” I teased, arching a brow. “Am I ruining your street cred by hugging you where everyone at work can see?”
He didn’t banter back. His gaze went to Ford, then back to me, his frown tight. “What are you doing here?”
I shrugged, trying not to take his mood personally. “Thought I’d stop by and see you for lunch, and maybe talk to your boss about sponsoring a walkathon? If he’s available?”
“He’s pretty busy. The crown arrives tomorrow and he wants everything to be perfect.”
“Crown?” Ford asked curiously, stepping up to my side.
“It’s from seventeenth century Spain. Pure gold and studded with emeralds.
” Christopher’s tone was a little sharp, his stress written plain in the dark circles under his eyes.
“It’s the most expensive artifact we’ve ever had.
It comes in tomorrow and the boss has us all running around like rats on a sinking ship.
Tightening security protocols, testing display cases, checking humidity levels, recalibrating alarms, you name it.
The thing hasn’t even arrived yet and half the staff is losing their minds trying to make sure everything is in place. ”
I frowned. Christopher looked thinner than when I last saw him, and worn down. “Well, why don’t you pick a place to eat? Crown or no crown, you still get your lunch break. And I’ll talk to your boss. It won’t take long.”
Christopher hesitated, but eventually nodded and led Ford and me toward the offices.
His boss, Frank, turned out to be an older, heavyset man with a receding hairline that he tried to cover up with one of those awful comb-overs.
I put on my best professional smile, turned on the charm, and explained that my boyfriend’s sister was part of a walkathon, smoothing the edges of the pitch like I’d done it a hundred times before.
I told him it would be good publicity for a small, local museum, that it would align them with the community and most importantly that it was a small investment for easy advertising, especially with the new exhibit coming in.
Frank agreed quickly, exactly as I’d suspected.
But when the three of us stepped out of the museum to grab lunch a few doors down, Ford looked impressed with my finesse, while Christopher just stared at me like I’d grown a second head.