Now and Then (8 page)

Ford pulled back, searched her eyes, and ground out her name between clenched teeth. And then everything spun and he was laying her back on the floor. Only not the floor, something soft and silky she’d have to identify later, because her attention was fully occupied by Ford kneeling between her legs, those gorgeous big hands of his working his belt and fly in deft movements. He grasped a handful of shirt and T-shirt from over his shoulder and whipped them both off before freeing his straining erection from beneath his white boxer briefs as he shoved them and his pants down his hips.

And the sight of him, thick and long and jutting toward her, made her want to take him with her mouth almost as much as she wanted him to sink inside her. Almost. But that little fantasy would have to wait until this more immediate need had been met. A need that was becoming almost unbearable as Ford made quick work of the condom he’d retrieved from his wallet.

“Number one,” he said, crawling over her as she pulled and tugged, urging him closer with her knees and heels. Only instead of the contact she was desperate for, Ford stilled, looking down at her, a teasing brow raised in question. “Or are you going to make me wear two again?”

She met his eyes, and for one instant her world went crashing back to the night ten years before when she’d been so eager for him, so sure of what they were about to do and so completely terrified of the potential consequences that she’d whispered her plea the second before he’d been about to take her. And he’d stopped, showing her with his actions more than words that he would do anything to make sure she was confident in a decision she couldn’t unmake.

Echoes of the words she’d whispered over and again that night sounded in her head, welling in her chest, even though, rationally, she knew she couldn’t still mean them.

But then Ford was inching back, like maybe he was about to follow through again, and she laughed, shaking her head and pulling him back over her.

“No, please. One is enough.” She stroked his cheek, letting her fingers slide into his hair as he closed the distance between them, notching himself in the vee of her thighs, holding himself above her on arms layered with thick muscles.

He was beautiful.

And he was rocking his hips, dragging his full shaft through her too sensitive folds. Another rough, masculine groan had liquid desire pooling within her, overflowing as he cupped her ass to pull her up to meet him.

“You feel so good,” she moaned, her pleasure escalating with each stimulating pass.

“I’m about to make you feel even better.” He reached between them and took his cock in hand, angling it down to press against her tender opening.

Oh God, he was big.

It wasn’t news. She’d seen him. Had had her hands on him. And once upon a time, her body had known exactly what it was like to hold him within her. But now, with that first nudge, she gasped in shock.

“Okay, baby?” he asked, reaching back to stroke her leg with his big, warm palm in a move that was both calming and inciting at the same time.

She nodded, not wanting him to stop. Not wanting to risk anything getting in the way of having him completely. Of finally having him again after missing him for—

Ford’s next kiss wiped her thoughts of anything but the feel of his tongue slipping between her lips, rubbing slowly against her own in a seductive, suggestive rhythm that matched the shallow thrusts of his cock at her opening. She moaned around the subtle taste of herself on his tongue, her inner muscles clenching and then easing enough for him to penetrate another inch on each controlled thrust. Until he was there. Deep inside her. Stretching her. Filling her to the point of pleasure so all-encompassing it nearly hinted of pain. But the kind she’d never ask to stop. The kind she’d beg for more of. Become a slave to.

Ford was saying something, his rumbling voice pouring into her ear, spilling through her head, filling up her chest until she felt that same overwhelming pressure around her heart, flowing down to where she ached with the decadent strain of him fully inside of her. Brushing his thumb across her lips in a tender caress, he said her name again, this time with an edge of command that had her eyes drifting open to meet the intensity of his stare. “Brynn, baby. Breathe for me.”

The air she hadn’t been aware of holding burst from her lungs in a dizzying rush, the motion just enough so she could feel the subtle shift of him within her.

“Oh God,” she moaned, her hips reflexively canting to increase the sensation. “Oh,
God.
”

“Baby, I’m not even moving yet and I can feel you gripping me like you’re about to come again.” The corner of his lips curved. “Don’t you want to make me work for it?”

“No,” she gasped. “Not even a little bit.”

Her orgasms had been a scarce commodity, rumored to have existed at one time, but now nearly unattainable. That was, to anyone other than a certain battery-operated buddy hiding in the back of her underwear drawer and the man currently buried to the hilt within her. And only one of them had ever been able to give her anything even remotely noteworthy.

Ford. Always Ford.

“Fair enough.” And with that, he withdrew almost to the head, pulling the breath from her lungs as he pulled his hot shaft through her tender, sensitized flesh. “I’ll take this one as a freebie. And make the next one really count.”

And then he was pushing back in, so long and mind-blowingly slow and very, very slick, her toes were curling, and whatever was spilling from her lips was unintelligible nonsense she couldn’t even process herself. Probably something about feeling good, but on a global or possibly even a galactic scale, because already she was spasming around him. The tension that had started coiling deep in her belly since about five seconds after the last time he’d made her come winding so tight it was already nearing its limit.

He was so deep inside her, the thick head of his cock nudged at the opening of her womb, again hinting at that decadent pressure, but this time, instead of letting her revel in it, he was already pulling back out. Dragging all that thick length through her clinging wetness, before sinking deep again. It was pure erotic sensation, making every part of her swell and ache with need for impending release. In and out. So deep. So slow. So long.

She was gripping his shoulders. His arms. His back and ass.

She was nearly mindless with need, with emotion, with lo—

No, that was crazy.

Ford reared back and licked her nipple, drawing it into his warm, wet mouth where he sucked once. Hard. That was all it took. She came apart. Unraveled until she wasn’t sure if there would be anything left of her if not for Ford’s strong arms wrapping beneath her back and holding her close, holding her together, as she cried out again and again.

He carried her through her climax, wringing the pleasure from her body until there was nothing more. Not a single drop of erotic relief left to be had. Not a—

“Ford!” she gasped, as he stroked into her again, this time tipping his hips so his cock rubbed against some new and completely amazing place.

“Okay, baby. This one I’m going to work for.”

She felt a pang of guilt, because from that single stroke alone, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t have to and it seemed adorably important to him that he have the chance. She’d try to hold back.

Another deep shaft and—dear God—whatever work he planned on putting in was going to have to happen fast.

As a rule, a guy only got one chance to make a first impression, so this second chance was a rare one indeed. A chance Ford hadn’t been willing to fuck up. And from the way Brynn was draped across him where they’d collapsed across her couch after moving from the floor, to her bed, to the shower, and then when she’d been wrapped in a towel…her body still glistening and wet when she’d modestly ducked down to pick up his coat from the living room floor…hell, he hadn’t been able to resist giving her one last kiss. Which brought them back to the couch. Now her body was limp and her sexy red curls were tickling his chest and shoulder as she let out a sigh so satisfied, he was getting half hard again just hearing it.

But that third rubber was long gone and until he stocked up—well, there were plenty of ways he could enjoy making Brynn come without them, now that he thought about it, but she’d told him it had been a while since she’d had sex and once he’d gotten inside her, Christ, she’d been so fucking tight. It was a miracle he hadn’t blown on the first pump. She was probably going to be sore as it was, and he didn’t want to make it worse just because he was a greedy bastard who couldn’t get enough of her.

But if he had his way, and he fully intended to, he’d have plenty of opportunities to make her go breathless beneath him in the future.

Which brought him back to that bullshit he’d told her in the bar. About what they were doing not having to be about anything more than the now. Yeah, that was definitely a stab of guilt he was feeling, even if what he’d said wasn’t exactly a lie. He’d been in the moment right there with her. No urgency to secure a commitment from her for, say, the rest of her life. Not then anyway. But there hadn’t been even a second when he hadn’t been aware of wanting more than a single night with Brynn.

Which meant it was time for a conversation.

“Brynn,” he prompted, brushing a few wild strands of silky red behind her ear. “You ready to do a little thinking again?”

A gentle puff of laughter tickled his chest, and then those gorgeous green eyes were peering up at him. “I don’t know. After that, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to think again.”

“This isn’t just tonight.” He knew it ought to be a question, that he had no actual claim or right to anything she didn’t agree to. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to ask. In his mind it was a given. This girl had gotten away from him too fast once before, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

Only he could feel Brynn tensing from just that one statement alone.

There were shadows clouding the eyes that had haunted his dreams for years, and a reluctance he didn’t understand evident in every tensed muscle of her body. “Ford, I—”

He cut her off with a kiss, before she had a chance to say anything he didn’t want to hear.

Then, pulling back to where he could speak but their lips still brushed together, he whispered, “Don’t freak out. I’m not asking for forever. But no way is one night going to be enough. Not for me.”

He kissed her again, this time making it slow and soft. Teasing her lips apart, he sucked gently and then grazed the bottom swell with a barely-there bite that had her breath rushing out on a trembling gasp. Beyond playing fair, it wasn’t until he had her fingers knotting in his hair and her knees tight astride his hips that he asked, “Was it enough for you?”

“No.” She sucked in an unsteady breath, before going on. “It wasn’t enough. But Ford, a relationship like we had before—I can’t—”

“Then we won’t,” he assured her, with a casual confidence he didn’t feel but instinct warned she needed to hear. “We were kids before, Brynn. But we’re adults now. And if this is just about having a little fun, then great. Let’s have some fun. Make each other feel good for a while.”

A little furrow dug between her brows. “For how long?”

However long it took. He’d waited ten years to have Brynn back in his life; he could easily wait a few weeks for her to get comfortable with the idea of a relationship again.

“Do we really need to put an expiration date on it?” He laughed for her benefit, again wondering what had made Brynn so gun-shy about getting into a relationship. “Why don’t we just enjoy each other for a while?”

The reservations were still there in her eyes and he needed them gone. So he said the only thing he could think that would ease her mind. “Like I said, Brynn, we’re both adults. We’ll let it play out, and this time when it’s over, we’ll part as friends.”

That wouldn’t happen, though. Brynn would let her defenses down. She’d see she didn’t need them with him. A month from now she could be living with him. Hell, maybe he’d hire Sam to convert his building back into a single residence in a year or so—

“It can really be as simple as that?” Brynn asked, this time those gorgeous green eyes looking back at him were filled with hope.

“Yeah. As simple as that,” he said, brushing his thumbs across the little jutting bones of her hips. As simple as falling in love with him again…and taking the future that should have been theirs ten years ago.

Her lips curved into the shy smile that did too much to his heart.

This time when he kissed her, it was to seal the deal. And the clutch of her fingers in his hair made it more binding than a contract.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Brynn blinked again, clearing her eyes one last time before she was willing to accept what she was seeing was real. The night before had actually happened. Ford was in fact there beside her in bed. Naked.

She couldn’t believe she’d done it. Let it happen.

But there he was. Those big, broad shoulders narrowing down to where the sheet and blanket had bunched at his hip, proof positive that she’d lost her mind. Her will. Her fight against something she knew better than to let herself have.

The self-recrimination should have been coming in spades, only looking at the man lying beside her—the man reaching out to pull her in closer with a sleepy, satisfied grunt—she couldn’t muster a single thought beyond how desperately she’d needed this. How good it felt to fall asleep in Ford’s arms. And what blissful relief it had been to let down, at least partially¸ her defenses and just surrender.

Resting her head against Ford’s shoulder, she breathed him in. Held on to that breath for as long as she could, savoring it, before reluctantly giving it back.

Ford had agreed to keeping things casual. And the way he’d come around without a blink—he seemed genuinely okay with it. Which was a good thing. Definitely.

Sure, she’d known he’d been interested in more than that at first, but the ease with which he’d gotten on board with a loose and undefined arrangement—well, she was guessing it wouldn’t be the first time for Ford. And that was the reassurance she’d needed to be able to sign on herself.

She’d hurt this man in the past and she couldn’t live with doing it again. Not for the selfish desire to have just a little bit more of the one thing she’d never wanted to let go.

As to her deeper emotions—they’d been headed off the rails since that first night at the Pint Pub. There was no defending her heart with Ford. But she didn’t have to. After all the years of keeping everything bottled up, of hiding behind a relationship that didn’t exist, closing herself off from the people in her life before they could get too close, for once, it felt good to just feel. For a little while.

And the inevitable hurt that would come when they said goodbye in a week or two—well, it was a trade-off she’d gladly make.

Ford was waking up. He drew her in tightly against him, holding her close for a beat, before releasing her and then stretching out on the bed. The back of his hand hit the wall and his feet extended well past the end of the double bed that had always seemed like plenty of space before. But now? She propped herself up on one elbow and took in the sight she hadn’t seen for ten years. Ford spilling out of a too small bed from every direction.

Rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, he let out a yowling yawn and then pulled his chin back. “What’s with the look?”

“Do you ever have enough room, or is life just moving from one cramped space to another and putting up with it?”

“There’s plenty of space in my bed,” he said with a grin. “It’s a California king, and I’d be more than happy to show it to you tonight if you’d like.”

“Tonight?” she asked, a tension she didn’t want creeping through her.

Ford noticed, like he noticed everything, but he just laughed and shook his head at her. Then, tugging the bit of sheet she’d tucked beneath her arms free, he brazenly thumbed her nipple.

Sensation shot through her, straight to her core.

“Unless this afternoon sounds better. Or maybe even later this morning?” His sleep-rough voice was filled with sensual temptation more potent even than his circling thumb. “It’s a fling, Brynn. They burn hot until they burn out, right?”

Right? She had no idea.

Not only had she never engaged in an actual fling, but even talking with her friends, sex and romance were topics she’d long mastered dodging. Which meant she couldn’t even reference someone else’s experience.

Still, the burning hot thing sounded about right, because already her body was begging for more of what it had had last night, and maybe he was right. If this relationship couldn’t last, then why not make the most of it for as long as it did?

Leaning into Ford’s kiss, she answered, “Right.”

“And just where the heck have you been?” Ava demanded, dark eyes narrowed, her foot tapping a mile a minute, and the bag of wasabi peas he’d stocked his pantry with two days prior hanging from one hand and a sleeve of Oreos secured in the other.

Ford shook his head at his little sister and contemplated revoking her key privileges, but having too good of a day to risk being murdered, just went ahead and parked his keys on the Donkey Kong hook by the front door.

“Hey, Ava.” He rubbed a hand on the top of her head and chuckled as she ducked away in a huff.

“I texted you four times last night. And called twice.”

Yep, he’d seen. He’d checked the messages after they’d gotten out of the shower and before he’d seen what Brynn looked like in her towel.

Ava glared. “What if it was an
emergency
?”

It was a picture of the foam from the top of Ava’s beer. She thought it looked like one of her dogs and wanted a second opinion. Badly.

“Sorry. But you’ve got a husband to handle those emergency foam situations. I was…busy.”

Nice. Way to stumble over that last word.

Ava’s eyes went wide as she perked up. “Oh
really
? Busy doing what?” Then looking particularly pleased with herself, she amended, “Or should I say
whom
?”

Over the years the secrets between them had been few and far between. But they’d been there. Certain things were too private to share, even with the person closest to them. Sam had been one of those secrets. And while on some level Ford had always known how Ava felt about the guy, he’d never pushed her to admit it. Brynn had been another. He’d fallen in love with her, but for some reason, hadn’t been able to tell his family. Not while they were together, and definitely not once they’d broken up. Maybe it was just that he’d known things were happening fast and he hadn’t wanted to hear the inevitable warnings or advice. And then after, well—he didn’t need everyone knowing what a fool he’d been.

Which was probably why he hadn’t told any of them about Brynn this time, either. And why he wasn’t going to tell Ava now. Not until Brynn realized she wanted the whole relationship as much as he did. Until then, he didn’t need a gaggle of busybodies sizing him up every other day, trying to see if he’d made any progress with his girl, and how he was handling it if he hadn’t. He didn’t want them to know how much she meant to him. Not yet.

“Just a girl I met.”

One slim brow arched up. “Little Miss Lipstick-on-Your-Collar?”

He grinned thinking back to that first night. “Ms. Pac-Man.”

Ava rolled her eyes in disgust. “Seriously, Ford. Is that some kind of pervy code for what you did last night? Gross.”

Huh?

Waving him off, she huffed. “You can be such a dog. I’m leaving.”

He leaned back against the counter and watched his sister flounce out of his place. With his wasabi peas and Oreos.

Ford grinned, sitting up to lean against the wall as Brynn crawled back into the bed he’d barely let her out of five minutes before, a bounty of steaming microwave burrito in hand, topped with a zigzag of squirted sour cream and a single packet of Taco Bell Fire Sauce laid out on the side.

“Breakfast,” Brynn murmured, tucking her knees beneath her.

Nothing had ever looked better in his life. After all, it had been delivered piping hot by the most gorgeous girl on the planet wearing nothing but his T-shirt from the night before. The one he fucking loved seeing on her.

“You shouldn’t have.”

Brynn blushed, shrugging one slender shoulder.

“You earned it,” she said, her cheeks turning an even hotter shade of red.

Cutting into his breakfast, he forked up a bite, blew on it, and because he just couldn’t resist, asked, “Oh yeah, for what?”

He knew. Or at least he had a pretty good idea.

She swatted his shoulder, making a chiding sound, but the smile on her face was straight-up encouragement.

“Oooh, you mean when I—”

“Ford,” she gasped, squirming just enough for him to consider setting their breakfast in bed aside and seeing if Brynn might be hungry for something else altogether.

Instead, he held out the fork in offering and enjoyed watching her lips close around the tines, and her eyes shut in sweet satisfaction.

God, she was perfect. A simple-pleasures girl who didn’t get hung up on all the things money could buy. She loved that emerald-green La-Z-Boy she’d bought secondhand from one of the guys at work. Didn’t matter that it didn’t match a single thing in her apartment; it was comfy, and that’s what mattered. Her clothes were the same. A collection of fun T-shirts, comfortably worn jeans, and shoes she could stand in for hours at a stretch. That black dress he’d had the pleasure and privilege of stripping off her was one of her two “fancy” outfits.

And she was perfectly content that way.

It was refreshing. Reassuring to a guy who’d been burned a time or two by women more interested in the size of his portfolio than anything else he might have to offer, and yet Ford wanted to do more for her. He wanted to take her out and buy her a few things to fill some of the empty spaces around her place. He wanted to spoil her with extravagant dinners—only Brynn wouldn’t even let him take her out for a divey breakfast.

She said it was because she had to eat out so much for work. And when she wasn’t working, she just liked being at home. A part of him doubted that was the full story, and suspected it had more to do with her idea of what this “casual thing” they were now a week and a half into ought to look like. Though how hitting a restaurant equated to scary relationship strings, he didn’t totally get. But whatever; he’d happily eat microwave burritos for the rest of his days if it meant spending every night Brynn was in town in her bed. Besides, things were going so great with them, he was confident Brynn would come around on the real relationship thing soon enough.

“I’ve got six hours before I need to leave for the airport,” she said, propping her pillow behind her and then snuggling in. “Want to lie around and watch TV all morning?”

“Can’t,” Ford answered, talking around the bite he’d just popped in his mouth. “Ava and Sam are making pizzas in this new oven Sam bought off the TV and I told Ava I’d take her shopping for supplies. So as much as I’d love to laze around in bed for a
Supernatural
marathon all morning, I’m starting to get the side-eye from everyone because of how many times I’ve bailed out of plans in the last couple of weeks.”

Brynn nodded her understanding, stealing the fork for the next bite. “Sounds fun. I’ve seen those ovens. Do they really work?”

Ford looked at her, chewing contentedly. She wasn’t fishing for an invite.

He shouldn’t do it. He knew he shouldn’t, but the part of him that wanted Brynn to be
his
somehow got ahead of the part that wanted to give her all the time she needed. “Come with me and find out.”

The woman who’d been tucked so snugly into his side stiffened beside him. She swallowed loud enough for him to hear—or maybe it was just that his every sense had heightened in anticipation of an answer that shouldn’t mean what it did to him.

The answer that was there in the shadowed eyes that met his.

Fuck.

Back and shoulders screaming their typical postgame protest, Brynn slid her key card past the sensor and sent up a silent prayer for the little green light that meant she was only a handful of steps away from collapsing atop the mauve-and-taupe atrocity covering her bed instead of being in for another trip down to the front desk.

Normally after a good game, especially like the one they’d just shot, no matter how worn out her body was from setup and teardown, and shouldering thirty pounds of camera for the game, she’d be too wired to crash, and going out with the guys would be her go-to plan of action. But tonight she wasn’t up for the company. First, because the guys were still in a tizzy over her breakup with
Fred,
and fending off all their well-intentioned inquiries and assurances she’d done the right thing would just make her feel crummy about the lies she’d told the people who cared about her. And second, she wanted to talk to Ford. Make sure they were still good after yesterday. After the goodbye that had felt strained to her.

He’d said meeting his friends wasn’t a big deal. It wouldn’t mean they were suddenly going steady; he’d just thought she might like to meet some more people in the neighborhood. No big deal.

Only it hadn’t felt like no big deal to her.

She’d wanted to say “yes.” And so the saying “no” had come out fumbling and awkward, with a lot of sorry excuse-making. Ford had seemed fine, his attitude totally relaxed, but
she
hadn’t felt fine about it. And now she just wanted to know she didn’t have anything to worry about. That they were good.

Because she wasn’t ready to give this “fling” up. Not yet.

So tonight all she wanted was to eat her Big Mac and fries. Take a shower and then talk to the guy who made everything better. She wanted to hear the confidence and easy smile behind that deep, rumbling voice of his and just wrap herself up in it. Take comfort in knowing Ford wasn’t worried about what was going to happen. He wasn’t worried about the future. He was just having a good time, and so, so could she.

It wasn’t going to last forever. She already knew that. But while it did—God, it felt good.

Setting down her drive-thru bag on the desk across from her bed, she stuffed a couple of fries in her mouth and thumbed her phone to life. Maybe she’d call him before the shower.

She’d barely pulled up the contacts when her phone lit up.

And there it was—that wave of
rightness
washing over her as she answered, “Hey, I was just about to call.”

“Yeah? Must have the psychic hotline going on, then. And before you ask, yeah, that’s what my sister calls it.”

She grinned. “How’s Ava doing? Was the pizza good?”