Page 70 of Wild Love
“Ford, you are going to walk in there, and you are going to apologize.”
I cross my arms defiantly, leaning back against the siding in a way that appears a hell of a lot more unaffected than I feel. “Have fun scribbling my eyes out because over my dead fucking body will I apologize to him.”
Her mouth pops open again, true disbelief lacing her every feature as her hands fall limp at her sides.
I can tell she’s about to go on scolding me, so I cut her off before she can. I spit out the words I’ve been swallowing for the past several weeks. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
Her teeth clank as she slams her mouth shut.“Excuse me?”
I repeat the sentence even though we both know she heard it. “I said he doesn’t deserve you.”
Her cheeks flush, and her eyes are wild. She isspittingmad. I fucking love her like this.
“Oh, what? And you do?” She bites the words out, stepping even closer to me. The tips of her shoes bump the toes of my boots, her breasts pressing against my forearms where they’re now crossed against my chest.
“No, Rosie. But I’m not the type of man who will let that stop me.”
I don’t think. I just reach for her. One hand on her jaw, the other gripping her waist. Holding her like I could shake her in frustration—except I never would. Instead, I flip us. I turn her quickly so she’s the one pressed up against the wall.
Her heavy breaths puff out against my skin. Her eyes flash down to the silver chain around my neck, but she makes no other move to escape me. “Oh, cute, now I’m Rosie and not Rosalie? What does that mean?”
Her words are a taunt; her eyes are defiant. I know her boyfriend is inside, and it just makes me want her more.
My eyes race over her face. Flushed cheeks. Twinkling eyes. The tip of her tongue on that full bottom lip. “Rosie, shut up.”
She pauses at the use of her nickname again.
Then she straightens slightly before spitting, “Don’t tell me what to do,” back at me.
And I just shake my head at her, tightening my grip and shifting my hand over so I can brush a thumb over her damp lips. “Rosie, shut up because I’m going to kiss you right now unless you tell me not to.”
I love that she doesn’t go all soft on me.
Our gazes latch onto to one another. She tips her chin up.
And for once she doesn’t say a fucking word.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ROSIE
When Ford tugsmy hair back and takes my mouth, my knees go weak.
But he catches me. He holds me up. He presses his leg between mine, wraps his big palm around my throat, and kisses me senseless while I hold on to his hips for dear life.
The energy between us is intense, and yet he doesn’t rush. His lips are firm, his tongue is soft, and his stubble rasps against my skin, sending sparks skittering over my body.
He savors me. He makes every touch, every point of contact feel like it lasts longer and goes deeper than should be humanly possible.
With Ford Grant kissing me, the world stands still. I smell him.
I feel him.
I tastehim.
My palms itch, so I slide them beneath his shirt. His warm skin and the light smattering of hair just above his belt buckle make me groan into his mouth.
He nips my bottom lip in response and dives back into working my mouth. My fingers inch up, exploring the ridges I peeked at the night when we sat together after his swim. He’s tall, all lean muscle and masculine bulk.
