Ford Hall’s lips are millimeters from mine. He’s going to kiss me. A full-body shiver runs through me at just the thought, but Ford misinterprets the response and frowns.
“You’re freezing. Let’s get you back into the car.”
My stomach sinks, and a blast of cold air hits me as he backs away and drops the hold he has on me. A moment later, he wraps one arm around my shoulder and guides me to the car. This hold is different. Like a caretaker, like he’s minding me. Keeping his most talented client safe. I want to protest. This is the first time I’ve been truly alone with someone in…God, I don’t even know how long.
I’m constantly being watched, photographed. Fans are always close, waiting for a signature or a moment of my attention. But not today. Ford watched my favorite movie with me, he let me drive his car, and he brought me to the beach so I could have a little time by myself.
He gave me quiet.
And now all I want are his words. I want to know what he’s thinking. About me. This situation. About my confession about hating sex.
God, what a stupid thing to say.
“Want to drive?” he asks as we reach the car.
I shake my head, unable to make words work.
Like a gentleman, Ford opens my door, and after I climb in, he tugs at the seat belt, leans across me, and buckles me in. That damn masculine scent surrounds me again, and I have to clutch my knees to keep from reaching for him. He pulls back, but only a few inches, and tilts his face toward mine. When he moves in again, he brushes my hair behind my ear. The move is so small, so simple, but it steals all the air from my lungs. He closes his eyes, and I study his face up close. His dark lashes against his cheekbones, the faint creases around his eyes. For several heartbeats, he doesn’t let go of my cheek.
My heart beats out a rhythm on my breastbone, one wholly made up of desire and longing. I close my eyes and soak in the feeling, readying myself for the moment he leans in. The hunger raging inside me is quickly replaced with a flooding disappointment, though, when his hand drops from my skin and the door closes.
“Get a grip,” I whisper to myself, rubbing my palms against my thighs as I watch him round the hood.
As the car rumbles to life, his warm palm lands on my hand, and when I turn it so that I can hold his, he waffles our fingers together.
And that’s how we drive all the way back to the hotel. No words. No questions. Just silence and his hand in mine.
When we pull up to the hotel, Ford rasps, “I’ll walk you up.” He finally lets go of my hand and climbs out of the car. The loss of him is acute. In the course of just a few hours, things between us have shifted in a monumental way. We’re on the precipice of the unknown, and I think we both know that the moment we’re in my suite, there won’t be any going back.
The need to feel his hands on my body consumes my every thought, leaving no room to second guess the bad decision I’m dying to make. For the first time in years, I couldn’t give a shit about anything but what I want. Not Paul. Not the repercussions. Not the implications surrounding my desire to fuck his dad.
No, I’m consumed with nothing but Ford and the way he made me feel today.
Seen. Desired. Respected. Treasured.
Sex with him? There’s no way it could be boring. He’s so present, so attentive. I can’t imagine he’d ever treat his partner like a prop. No, sex with Ford Hall would be impossibly memorable. He’d worship every inch of me. Might actually snap me in two. The man is huge.
When he opens the door and holds out his hand to me, I dip my chin and take it, snuggling in close to him, allowing his tall frame to hide me from any prying eyes. As we enter the hotel, I’m ready to devour him. We’ve almost made it to the elevator when I hear my name.
“Lake!”
Ford’s arm tightens around me, acting as my shield, but the voice is so familiar and so welcome that I can’t help but turn toward it. She’s already barreling toward us, loudly and unapologetically, so I take a step to the side and brush off his arm.
“Melina.” I throw out my arms to her. “You’re here.”
Beside me, Ford steps back and straightens. The desire in his gaze evaporates, and he settles back into his record label owner persona. Our record label owner.
“Daddy Ford, you did good! My girl looks so much better than I expected,” Mel says as she spins, taking me with her so we’re both facing him.
“I did nothing.” He lifts his chin, steady, professional. “Just happy you’re here to take over.”
Ouch.
The words are like a sucker punch, the meaning behind them nearly knocking me over. He was just doing his job. Keeping his most profitable artist content and out of trouble. Now my best friend is here to take over—she’ll take care of poor Lake. The girl who clearly can’t take care of herself. The one who’s always falling for the wrong man.
The girl who mistakes simple kindness for something else completely.
Shame washes over me, and I let out a breathy sob of a laugh. “No need, I’m good. Let’s head up to the room. Don’t want any more debacles with the press.” Without looking up, I bite out, “Don’t worry, Mr. Hall, we’ll be good.”
“Right,” he says, his voice sharp. “Have a good night, ladies. I’ll see you tomorrow at the stadium.”
Mel doesn’t even wait for him to move out of earshot before she’s whispering in my ear, “Oh, Daddy Ford is looking migh-ty fine. Wouldn’t mind working out my daddy issues with him.”
“Oh my God,” I hiss. Heart lodged in my throat, I peek back, but he’s already stepping out the front doors. I wasn’t even worth a second look.
“What?” she whines, tugging on my arm.
For the first time since I’ve seen her, I actually see her. Her blond hair is styled perfectly, and she’s wearing black leather pants, a slouchy gray sweater, and spiked heels. She is clearly dressed to be seen.
I drag her in the direction of the elevator because I have no intention of being seen anywhere, but she pulls me back.
“We are so not going to bed right now. You need a revenge fuck. You need to dance all over this city and make out with every hot man you see.”
“Daddy Ford,” I say with a bit of bite, “will kill us if we go out.”
“I’d gladly take the punishment.” She sticks her ass out and taps it. “Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry I’ve been a bad girl.”
I yank her as hard as I can toward the elevator, praying that no one caught that on film. Girl is on a roll. There is no way we’re leaving my hotel room.
The next three days are a whirlwind of work. Before every show, Mel swears she’s going to force me to go out, but fortunately, even she’s too tired after dancing on stage for hours between rehearsal and the actual concerts to push too hard.
On New Year’s Eve—having still not heard a word from Paul—I’m over licking my wounds. It’s ridiculous how little his disappearance has affected my life. How nothing about my day-to-day has changed. Well, other than not having to coddle someone who didn’t give two shits about me.
We’re rehearsing for a last-minute private show for the Bolts, and I’m sweating up a storm when Ford walks in flanked by two men in expensive suits. A black Henley pulls against his muscles as he lets out a loud laugh.
My heart takes off at a gallop at the sound, threatening to launch right out of my chest. God, the man has a beautiful laugh.
The men on either side of him are equally gorgeous. I swear one is the spitting image of Henry Cavill, with green eyes and a bit of a frown, and the other looks like Bradley Cooper. He’s wearing a smirk, like he’s quite proud of his ability to make Ford laugh so brazenly.
Mel nudges me so hard I stumble. “Now that’s a gang bang I’d sign up for.”
The bark of laughter that escapes me practically echoes in the space before I can clap a hand over my mouth. I don’t catch myself quickly enough, and now all three men are surveying me.
Ford steps closer. “Something funny?” His eyes dance like he knows exactly what we’re giggling about.
As if I wasn’t hot enough already, his attention ramps up the temperature in the room. I pull my hair off my neck and hold it up as I attempt to come up with a reply.
Ford tilts his head to one side and frowns, then he slides something off his wrist and holds it out to me. “You’re always forgetting these.”
Because I’m a people pleaser, I reach for the object he’s handing me without thought. A hair elastic? I hold it between my fingers like it might slither at me, dumbfounded by the gesture.
“Need me to put it in your hair too?” he teases.
The room is dead silent, and I’m pretty sure every eye is trained on us. Did Ford just pull a scrunchie off his wrist and give it to me?
“Um, no.” Quickly, I use it to pull my hair back in a sloppy ponytail. “Thanks.”
He’s right, I am always forgetting them. My hair drives me crazy when it’s loose like this during rehearsal. Before every show, my stylist applies so much product it barely moves while I’m on stage, but if we set it too early, it won’t hold until the end of the night. But the elastics dig into my wrists, so I never have one handy.
Ford shrugs like it’s no big deal despite the fact that we’re all gaping at him. “Ready for tonight, ladies?”
Mel’s phone buzzes on the table, pulling her from the conversation.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think we’re set. Hopefully the guys paying for the private show are happy.”
The Bradley Cooper look-alike nods. “Very happy. We appreciate your willingness to do this at the last minute.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Gavin, and this is my brother Beckett. We own the team.”
I suck in a breath and perk up. “Oh! You’re Ford’s friends.”
In unison, the brothers side-eye Ford, like they’re surprised I know this. It’s only because he told me about them in the car. Nothing else nefarious. Hell, since that odd moment on the beach where I thought he wanted to kiss me, he’s been basically MIA.
Though not so MIA that he missed the way I always forget hair ties. And if the chai tea and chocolate milk delivered daily are any indication, he’s still thinking about me.
“That motherfucker,” Mel growls from the floor where she’s leaned against the wall, her phone in hand. She tips her head back and sneers at Ford. “Your fucking son. Why the fuck would you let him do this?”
My lungs practically seize as I look from her to Ford and back again. I’m not sure anyone has ever spoken to him this way. Certainly not one of his musicians. What the hell did Paul do now?
His only reaction is a tick of his jaw.
Beside him, Gavin has his phone out and his head tipped low. After a moment, he hands Ford his phone. And that’s when I see an image of my ex-boyfriend and his new boyfriend clad in swim trunks and nothing else, making out on the beach.
Ford curses and shakes his head, and then he’s pulling out his own phone and growling into it.
When Mel approaches me, sympathy in her expression, rage like I’ve never known flows through my blood. Paul is nothing but trouble. She squeezes my hand, but I shake her off.
“I think I’m ready for that revenge now.”
