by Cary Hart
“Shit.” Ford is feeling around in his pockets. “I left my wallet back there. You okay to head home, and I’ll catch up?”
“I can come with.”
“That’s okay. Just get home before it rains. I have to make a quick call anyways.” He gives me a playful pat on the butt before he runs off.
He didn’t even give me the choice.
Was it me? Did I do something wrong?
Feeling a light sprinkle, I pick up the pace back to the building. Running upstairs, I wait for him to come, but minutes turn into an hour.
Maybe this was a bad idea?
Locking the door, I change my clothes and hop into bed. I pretend that whatever I thought I felt was just a dream and let slumber take me under.
Eventually, I hear him knock, calling my name.
“Bianca, open up!” His voice grows louder, the pounding, harder.
“Go away!” I holler, pulling the sheet up over my head. Maybe if I hide, he’ll leave me alone.
“Not happening, babe. Now, open the goddamn door.”
I dig deep to find something witty to say. “No!”
No? That is so brilliant, B. What a way to be creative.
“B…” I hear his head bang up against the door. Maybe he’s giving up. “Come on. I need your help.”
“Should have thought about that before you did what you did.” I’m not sure what he did, but if I let him in now, I’ll let him into my bed and well…that would be bad — and so good at the same time.
“What did I do?” I can hear him pacing the floor, wearing it down.
Throwing the sheet off, I tip-toe to the door.
“No! You know what? If you don’t open the door now, I’ll beat it down.” This causes me to stop dead in my tracks.
“Just something else you would have to pay for.” I mentally check off everything he has repaired so far. The electric, sewer issue, the water line…
“Fine. Have it your way.” He goes quiet.
I can’t have him breaking down the door. I mean, it would be entertaining, but then I would have no privacy, and that defeats the purpose. After what happened earlier, there definitely needs to be a barrier between us. A door that locks…deadbolt and all.
“Hold on…”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what I’ve been doing out here.” His laugh sounds just a tad irritated.
I open the door, unprepared for what I see: Ford Phillips, standing there, soaking wet, unbuttoned shirt clinging to his dripping body. Seeing the water droplets run down his tan, chiseled chest makes me suddenly thirsty. I’m taken aback by the primal urge I have to run my tongue across his golden skin and lap up…Every. Single. Drop.
“Eyes up here, babe,” he says with a smirk.
Moment broken.
“I can’t let you in here; you’re dripping wet.”
“If you let me in, you could be too.”
**********
Ford
Watching her watch me is driving me crazy. Her body says she wants me; her emerald eyes tell me she needs me. Those same eyes, starving, travel down my chest, a hunger in them that's been there for days. But the defiant lift of her chin tells me she's too stubborn to act on it.
I've been walking around this place for weeks with blue balls, but I've tried to be the good guy. That ends tonight.
After that kiss tonight, there is no way I can walk away. My mouth confirmed what my mind already knew; that she would taste sweet, like honey.
One way or another, this dancing around each other is going to stop. Her brown hair hangs around her shoulders, wild from sleep and begging to be grabbed.
We're in a stare-off; I watch as she continues warring with herself. Then, she makes the decision for me…she licks her lips.
Game on, babe.
I grab Bianca and pull her to me. Instinctively she hops up into my arms and wraps her long, toned legs around my waist like she was made for me.
Turning, I press her back to the wall, causing her to gasp.
"Now, you're sure to get wet," I tease her, kissing her neck, my hands everywhere.
She fumbles to pull the wet cotton from my chest, but it it's not working out…it's sticking. So, I set her down and go to work, ridding myself of the wet clothes, eager to have her hands back on me.
"I already am," she whispers, and my control snaps, ripping away the sopping shirt and kicking off my jeans, I grab her and carry her to the bed.
Laying her on the down comforter, I notice that her T-shirt is now wet and clinging to her skin. I peel it from her body, inch by inch, throwing it down. Then, I notice she's not wearing panties. Holy hell!
Pulling her hips toward me, I climb between her legs, and she grinds up into me. Gaining the friction she desperately seeks. When I feel her wetness coat me, I nearly passed out from the sensation how amazing it feels. That’s when I pull back, and I realize I've nearly put us both at risk.
Shit! What a douche move.
Her mouth is on my ear. Every little breath, every gasp, every moan is meant for me, and it rocks me to my core.
"B."
Moan.
"B."
Sigh.
"Bianca, listen to me. Condom." At the mention of the word, her eyes fly open, and she looks at me. “I'm clean." I rasp out.
"Me too," she nods and wraps her feet around my back, tugging me closer, and I slide into her depths in one swift motion, her eyes still locked on mine.
Seeing her like this, I can barely contain myself. My hips jerk forward, and we begin to move together.
Holding back is nearly impossible. My hands roam her body greedily, the pressure building.
“I need you.” She wraps her body tighter around mine, pulling me down on top of her, taking all my weight.
"Babe, whoa. Slow down." Using my arms I lift myself just slightly, adjusting the angle, hitting her deeper. “I'll crush you," I warn her.
"I don't care," she sighs, clawing at my back, my self-control hanging by a thread.
Looking down at her, face framed between my hands, eyes hooded with lust, I feel something.
It's not just her smoking hot body…or the fact that she's got a smile that can light up a room. She's stubborn and loyal and creative. She's just her. She's not like anyone else I've ever encountered. That, combined with the attraction I feel to her, is a little scary.
Deciding to save those thoughts for another time, I capture her mouth with mine, careful to keep my weight off of her.
Tongues tangling in a dance of passion, our bodies find a rhythm in rocking together. But, I need more. And the way she's writhing beneath me, I know she does too.
Picking up the pace, I take her over the edge. She screams out in pleasure, and I crash right after her, giving her every last part of me before falling to the bed next to her, pulling her over on top of me.
I'm not letting her go.
Chapter Six
Bianca
The morning sun is beating in my window, and normally this is when I would throw the pillow over my head and scold myself for not wanting curtains; but today is anything but a normal day. Today is the first day to a new beginning.
Rolling out of bed, I slide on my slippers, wrap my robe around my body and pad my way down the stairs.
“Morning!” I round the corner and stand at the counter, watching Ford move around the kitchen with ease.
“You back for second seconds?” He turns, bringing all his attention to me — something that once would have made me uncomfortable. However, after last night, attention from Ford Phillips isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“Cocky much?” I let out a slight giggle, knowing it’s exactly what I want.
“Well, as a matter fact, I am.” He’s now standing in front of me. “But you know what else I am?”
“Annoying?”
He lifts me up and puts me on the counter, settling himself between my legs.
“Starved.”
“Oh!”
His lips land
on my neck with a little lick and nip. “Morning. Did you sleep well?” He continues his slow attack.
“Uh-huh.” Tilting my head to the side I let myself enjoy his version of breakfast, moaning.
“Good.” His arms slide around my waist, hands palming my ass as he pulls me forward.
“I did too.” He grinds his hips, letting me feel exactly how much he enjoyed last night.
“Ford? You smell that?”
“So sweet.” He moves his way down from my neck, nipping each breast on his way down to his very own feast.
“No. Something’s burning.”
“Yeah, we are.” I know that if I let him continue, whatever is burning will just take over because Ford’s touch is hypnotizing.
“Food. Burning.” I push his head back, regretting it instantly.
“Oh, shit!” He’s up and over to the stove before I can register what is happening. “The pancakes.” He flips them into the trash.
He turns and gives me an apologetic look. “Looks like this batch is ruined. How about you come over and help me make the rest? You over there is too distracting.” He nods for me to join him.
“Sure.” I hop down. “But first…”
“Coffee?” he laughs.
“Exactly.”
After pouring me a cup, we spend the next couple hours in a pancake bake-off. Even though I’m the one with the design talents, his pancake art is pretty on point. Especially if it has to do with female anatomy.
“How about we take this upstairs? I don’t have to meet with the interior designer until later this afternoon.”
“I’m thinking that is your best idea yet.” My smile refuses to fade.
“Good.” He bends down and throws me over his shoulder.
“Ford! Put me down.” I try to wiggle away.
“Nuh-uh!” He smacks my ass and carries me the couple flights to the bedroom, only to pause when we get to the door. “Maybe next week we work on getting the elevator fixed.”
“Or we just work on your stamina.”
“I’m beginning to like the way you think. But first, I have a craving that has yet to be satisfied.” He takes me to the bed and lays me down, spreading me wide.
“Well, by all means. We wouldn’t want you to starve.” I open my legs a little wider. “Buffett now open.”
He stands there, just admiring me. “Thank God, because this man is starving.”
**********
Ford
“Hey Ford.” Celeste breezes through the door. “I was hoping you were going to call.”
I hated to call her, but her talents far exceed the bedroom or, well, in our case, the stock room.
“This project is going to be a little tricky.” I explain the situation, waiting to see if she is up for the game.
“Well, you are basically asking me to block off my schedule for a project that may or may not happen.” She turns in a circle, taking in the room. “I could lose potential clients.”
Here we go. The waiting game for this place is costing me more than I had originally planned. Why should this be any different?
“I’m totally digging this vibe, Ford.” She walks around, getting a feel for the space. “It’s different from the others, but I think by removing a wall and giving it more of an industrial feel that some of the other clubs around here have going on, this could be the next big spot.”
“Actually…” Bianca walks into the room. “No, that is totally wrong. You need to embrace the architectural design of this building. Expose the beams and enhance the woodwork. Use the metal you talk about only in the bar, with lighted glass and pops of color in the furniture.”
I knew B was talented, but hearing her talk shop about the design of my club, when she is still fighting for this building for her gallery, does something to me. “Bianca, that’s exactly the look I’m going for.”
Pointing in B’s direction, I look at Celeste. “Can you do exactly what she said?”
Rolling her eyes, she give me a wink. “I can do anything you ask, but how about you call me later, and we can hammer out the details?” She’s beside me, hand on my shoulder and a little too close for comfort, especially with B right there…tempting me with just her presence.
“Ford, if you want, I can sketch out some designs for you,” B speaks up. She walks toward me and stands on my other side, mimicking Celeste. Some would hate to be in this predicament, but having B turn possessive just means one thing. I’ve got to her.
“I would like that.” I brush Celeste’s arm off me and turn toward her while wrapping my arm around B’s shoulders. Leaning in to me, her hand goes to my chest, a fit so perfect and natural.
She was made for me.
“Celeste, thank you for coming out today and for fitting me into your busy schedule, but given the situation, I think I’m going to go another direction.”
“Seriously, Ford? You called me out here for this?” She eyes Bianca up and down. “If you end up changing your mind, I’ll get you worked in. In the meantime, good luck with this place. Looks like you’ll need it.” Her words mean so much more than it might seem.
“Thank you, but I happen to think this place is amazing.” I give B a little squeeze.
“Sorry,” Bianca says after Celeste finally leaves. “I didn’t mean to barge in here and take over, but she would have torn this place apart.”
“I just thought you were jealous,” I joke.
“Maybe just a tad.” She pinches her fingers together. “Like, maybe this much.”
“Well, I liked it.” I pull her in, taking possession of her mouth as she has taken over my mind.
Something about this girl drives me nuts. There was an instant attraction from the moment I walked through those doors, but last night, the way she looked at me, the way she hummed to my touch made me want to do things I never thought I wanted.
Being around her has me thinking of ways, maybe, we both can have our way — the club and the gallery — our dreams merging to become one reality.
Chapter Seven
Bianca
It’s been about a month, Ford and I have fallen into an easy routine, one that I welcome since Grans’ passing. When she died, I didn’t know which way to go, where to turn. My painting seemed so irrelevant. Without her, everything was useless. That is until I realized that my dreams are what is going to save this place.
“Hey, B! Can you come here for a minute?” he hollers from the front.
Grabbing a couple glasses of lemonade, I head out to him. “What’s up?” I ask, handing him a drink.
“Thank you.” He takes a sip. “Mmm, that’s good.”
“There’s more in there if you or the crew get thirsty.”
“I sent them home for the day. I thought maybe you would like to get in on this action.” He hands me a sledge hammer.
“I think your version of action and mine are a tad different.” I hand it back to him.
“Although I like where you are going with this, I’m thinking that this will be right up your alley as well.” He walks over to a table. I follow. “Take a look at these.”
I look between the blueprints and the walls, trying to figure out which end is up.
“Let me help.” He points to one of the lines. “This is the kitchen wall and we are going to bust it out.”
“No we are not,” I argue. “That is the only functioning kitchen in the whole building. There is no way I’m going to open it to the front of the gallery for everyone to see.” I whisper, “Don’t you remember what we did in there the other day?”
“Babe, there is no way I’ll ever forget that moment, or any other with you, for that matter.” He pulls me in for a quick kiss. “But—”
“No buts. Maybe the open area will work for your club, but my gallery…I don’t think so.” I shake my head, a tad irritated that he is only thinking of himself and his club.
“Come on, B. Try to envision this with me.” He takes another set of blueprints and rolls them out. “See how open it is? Ev
entually you can change the island and make it a bar…a few tables here and there.”
“What is this?” I’m pretty sure it’s the blueprints for my gallery. But why?
“I wanted to make sure that whatever renovations I made for me were also beneficial for you. So, that is where the whole dual prints thing comes into play.”
“You thought of me…” I back away, a little overwhelmed at his suggestions.
“B, I just wanted to make sure—”
“Why do this?” I say, a little louder than necessary.
“For you.” He wraps me in his arms. “Is it not what you wanted?” He leans back a little, searching my eyes.
“It is…I just didn’t think...” A few tears begin to fall. He doesn’t get it. Every single penny I earn has to go to the bank. Even if I can come up with the funds, I won’t be able to survive unless I have constant action. Which is why I want the gallery so bad. Not just to showcase my own work, but others’ work, too. Something to keep income flowing in until I finish my next collection. “I will never be able to repay you,” I admit.
“Listen, that isn’t even on my radar right now. If you come up with the money to pay the bank, we can work out some kind of arrangement. Will that make you happy?”
I nod my head in agreement, “When…”
“When?”
“Not if I get the money, but when I do.”
His laugh reverberates through the room.
I smile.
“Here. Let’s take care of business.” He hands me the hammer. “Best way to take out your aggressions.
And just like that, Ford Phillips busts through the walls of my heart.
**********
“Holy shit! Is that what I think it is?” Ford starts to tear away more drywall.
Both of us are now up close to the studs. We lift up our safety glasses at the same time and look at each other. “Termites,” we say in unison.
“Crap! Ford, what do we do?” I begin to panic. I’m worried that everything Grans had worked for has been for nothing. Selling her brownstone, taking out the loan…everything for me, and I give her nothing.
