Page 11 of Exes and Oh Hell No

He grabs both my hands and hauls me upright like I weigh nothing.

I wish for death.

Right here, right now.

I groan under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut.

Why couldn’t I hit my head and black out instead?

5

FORD

Never in my wildest fucking dreams did I imagine a trip to Charlie’s for wings would end with Harper Adams on her knees in front of me, her hand wrapped around my cock like a lifeline.

Yet, here we are.

Jesus Christ.

A damn decade has passed, and she still manages to wreck me in under five seconds.

It doesn’t help that my body reacts on instinct, hardening in her grip even though she’s squeezing the damn thing like she’s trying to detach it from my body.

Pain finally wins over pleasure, and I pry her fingers loose, grabbing her other hand to haul her to her feet.

My restraint is hanging by a thread, yet I tighten my grip on her, afraid if I don’t, I’ll do something really fucking stupid.

Like kiss her.

Or worse, fall for her all over again.

The bar is dead silent.

Phones are out, cameras recording, catching every humiliating second of this moment.

Harper blinks up at me, her expression a mix of mortification and something else.

Something that looks a lot like desire.

Fuck.

She swallows, her voice breathy. “Ummm… good to see you again.”

I can’t answer right away because my brain is still rebooting from her hands-on approach to a reunion.

And because I need to get my shit together before I make a bigger mistake.

I step back, forcing my face into something neutral, even as my pulse pounds like a goddamn war drum.

Her lips press together as her expression fills with disappointment.

She turns away, her spine stiff, like she’s locking me outagain.

Like I haven’t already lost enough of her.

She moves to the register and places her order to go.

I can’t stop the words from pouring from my mouth. “Aren’t you staying to eat?”

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