Page 11 of Bullet

That was a bad idea; a very, very bad idea.

I downed the rest of my drink, then got up. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

As I turned to leave, Ford grabbed my arm. “Wait.”

I tried to pull away, my defenses kicking in, but his grip was firm. “Let me go,” I seethed, both angry and turned on at the same time. Thoughts of his rough hands running all over my body flashed in my mind.

“Didn't mean to overstep.” He let go of my arm. “Let me buy you a drink to make up for my lack of manners.”

“That's not necessary. Let's just forget this ever happened.”

I turned to leave again, and he called out after me. “Aw, c'mon, kitten, don't you want a little taste of the forbidden? I know I do.”

That stopped me in my tracks. Still, I didn't turn around, knowing how disastrous the idea was.

“Plus, it would piss your daddy off.”

I couldn't help but smile.

I exhaled a weighted breath as I turned back around. That sexy smirk curved his lips, making my sex clench. I hadn't been fucked properly in months. Matteo took two seconds to get off and left me unsatisfied.

“Fine, but if you start any shit with my family, you will regret it.”

He held his hands up in surrender, an amused smirk on his lips. “Ooh, the kitten has claws. Is that a threat?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

He laughed. “Let's have a drink,” he suggested, gesturing to my vacated barstool next to him. “Whatever you want is on me.”

That definitely was a bad idea. But I didn't want to go home yet, and something about Ford drew me in. His roguish smile and intense eyes did things to my insides that I'd never felt before. He was forbidden, off-limits, and that made me want him even more.

One drink couldn't hurt. Right?

I sat back down. “Fine, but just one drink.”

“Whatever you say, kitten.” He chuckled. “What are you having?”

“Scotch on the rocks; Macallan preferably.”

He cocked a brow, looking vaguely impressed. Most people thought I wanted fruity cocktails or wine, but I was a whiskey girl through and through. “What?” I asked with a huff, fighting a smile.

“I didn't take you for a whiskey drinker.”

I shrugged. “Most people don't.”

He smiled, then waved down the bartender and ordered our drinks. Macallan on the rocks for me, and a Maker's for himself.

He raised his glass when our drinks arrived. “To new friends.”

Rolling my eyes, I clinked my glass against his, then took a long sip. I closed my eyes, savoring the rich taste. “I didn't realize how much I needed this until today.”

“Yeah, I bet it's been a shitty couple of days for you.”

Understatement of my life. “Yeah.” I'd had trouble sleeping following the funeral. I kept having the same nightmare about my grandpa's accident. I took another drink, draining the rest and letting it burn down my throat.

“Wanna talk about it?” He signaled for another round, and even though it went against my better judgment, I didn't protest. I wanted to let loose a little, and I felt like I couldn't in front of my father and brothers. They had such high expectations of me, and I wasn't who they thought I was.

“I keep having nightmares about his accident,” I replied, focusing on the ice in my glass. “Haven't been able to sleep.”

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