Page 71 of Exes and Oh Hell No

I’m wearing her down.

I knew I would.

Her face is a composed mask when she lifts it. “Haha! So funny, Ford.”

I grip her chin, keeping her eyes level with mine. “Heed my warning or it won’t be so funny, doll face.” A wicked smirk curls my lips. “Or ignore them. I’ll enjoy every second of punishing you and making you scream.”

She shivers, heat turning her eyes into molten silver.

Her lips part slightly, shaky breaths slipping out.

Breaths she doesn’t even realize I’m tracking.

She’s a terrible liar.

And worse at hiding how much she still wants me.

I wink at her, releasing her and exiting Gram’s vehicle.

When she doesn’t push open the passenger door and hop out, a devious smile curls my lips. She’s either so affected by me she isn’t resisting, or she’s given up fighting.

Either way, it’s a win for me.

I pull her door open, unbuckle her seat belt, and grab her hand, helping her from the vehicle.

She doesn’t even try to tug her hand away from mine, walking inside her parents’ house with her fingers wrapped in mine.

She immediately takes control, introducing me to the contractors.

When they start fawning over me, she does a great job of reining them in, reviewing projects, and taking control of the situation.

As she leads me upstairs to her bedroom, she throws me a look over her shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas, hockey stud. I’m putting your ass to work.”

I swat her ass. “Yes, ma’am. Just tell me what you need.”

We reach her bedroom, and I press myself against her back, my hands sliding to her stomach. “I’m here to give youeverythingyou want.”

The shiver that jolts her body makes me smile.

My lips find that spot on her neck, making her whimper and turn her head, giving me access.

“We shouldn’t…” she gasps.

I suck harder, marking her.

She melts against me, a moan slipping out.

Calmly releasing her, I step back, looking around her bedroom. “Tell me, Harper, what do you want me to do first?”

Her eyes are two molten lava pits as they slowly blink at me.

She struggles to regain her composure, clearing her throat before she gestures at the paint cans and brushes on the floor.

“We’re gonna paint the ceiling and walls.” Her voice is breathy, the sound hitting me square in the groin.

But I don’t react.

Because I don’t need to.

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