Page 163 of Exes and Oh Hell No

She winks, pulling out a damn flask, and taking a sip. "Because I live for the drama, sweetheart."

I swear to God, I’mneverletting her babysit our kids.

Ford doesn’t even acknowledge her.

Doesn’t acknowledge anyone.

His grip is like iron.

His body is tight, vibrating with tension.

The air outside is cool against my bare legs, but it does nothing to cool the fire in his eyes as he throws open the car door and drops me into the seat.

The door slams shut.

My pulse skyrockets.

He’s pissed.

Possessive.

Absolutely feral with the need to remind me who I belong to.

I lick my lips, feigning innocence, as he slides behind the steering wheel.

"Ford," I murmur, my voice sweet, teasing, knowing exactly what I’m doing. "Are you mad?"

His head tilts, slow and dangerous.

I press my thighs together, squirming from how wet my fucking panties are.

His lips part.

His nostrils flare.

His eyes darken from blue to navy.

I fucked up.

And I love every second of it.

He reaches over, grips my throat, and leans in close, his breath hot and sharp against my lips. "You knew exactly what would happen, baby," he rasps.

My stomach drops.

My pulse spikes.

His thumb traces my bottom lip, slow and deliberate.

"You wanted this," he breathes, his voice so dark and low I can barely take it. "Didn’t you?"

My breath shudders.

I don’t answer.

At least, not with words.

I tilt my chin, part my lips, and let my body do the talking.

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