Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
***
My phone buzzed on the vanity. Before this summer, I’d often misplaced my cell at home. Hours would go by without me checking it. Now I took it into the bathroom while I was in the shower to listen for the ping of an incoming text—talk about anxious.
Ford: Breakfast in twenty?
I wrapped my hair in a towel and texted back.
Valentina: Sounds good. Just got out of the shower. The back door is open. Let yourself in.
Ford: Will do. But do me a favor? Wear the white tank top you wore last week.
I hadn’t realized he liked it. But sure. Why not?
Valentina: Okay!
Ford was leaning against my kitchen counter with a mug of coffee in his hand when I came downstairs. His eyes took their time raking down my body and snagged on my breasts on their climb back up.
I cleared my throat. “Good morning.”
“That it is.” He nodded.
I walked to the sink and set my empty coffee mug down.
“I didn’t realize you had a thing for plain white tank tops.”
I’d looked in the mirror after putting on the top he’d requested. The material hugged my curves, but not in an obscene way or anything. And the fabric was nothing special—thin, white cotton—quite plain, really. I wasn’t sure what he liked so much about it. Unless perhaps it was more revealing when I was cold.
Ford caught my eyes. “Take off your bra.”
I blinked a few times. “What? You mean take it off before we go to breakfast and leave it off?”
He nodded.
“I can’t go to a restaurant without a bra.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s inappropr…” I’d made it halfway through the word when I realized I’d walked right into his trap.
He knew what my response would be. The wiseass smirked with an arched brow.
“Okay. I get your point. But I really can’t go to breakfast without a bra on.”
“Is it uncomfortable to not wear one?”
“No.”
“Will anyone be hurt by it?”
“I guess not. But it would feel weird. Thirty-seven-year-old women don’t go out without their bras on.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Again with the age shit. Would you have gone out without one at twenty-two?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.” I totally would have.
“You have great tits. Better than any twenty-something.”
I felt uncomfortable, but fuck it. He was right. I did have great boobs. And if this modest act of semi-indecency made him happy, why not? I held his eyes while I reached behind my back, pushed up my shirt, and unclasped my bra. Sliding the straps down and pulling my arms out was simple—Lord knows we women are better than Houdini when it comes to taking off a bra without removing any other piece of clothing. Once my arms were out, I reached up and under my shirt and tugged the bra from my body. I was glad I’d put on something pretty this morning—nude with lace. I held it up and tossed it right at Ford’s head. It landed perfectly—with a strap dangling over his face.
His eyes gleamed. They dropped to look at my boobs, and the smirk fell from his face. My nipples were standing proud, saluting him.
“Shit,” he groaned. “Maybe I didn’t think this all the way through.”
I grinned, loving how affected he was. “Ready to go?”
He mumbled something about how he’d be the inappropriate one walking around with a hard-on, and we left for breakfast.
***
No one seemed to notice or care.
While I’d mostly taken off my bra to prove a point to Ford, he’d actually proven one to me. John’s Pancake House had a fifteen-minute wait, and no one looked at me any differently than usual. Either they didn’t notice, or didn’t care if they did—which had been Ford’s entire argument.
Well, actually, one person certainly noticed and cared.
Ford stood from the booth and offered me his hand. He pulled me to my feet and looked down at my still-erect nipples, growling into my ear, “This lesson on inappropriate behavior is fucking phenomenal.”
The sidewalk outside of John’s Pancake House was packed. People filled the benches and lingered in the parking lot waiting for tables—typical for breakfast any day of the week during the summer in Montauk. Ford opened my car door, but before I could get in, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. Like the times before, it was long and passionate and left me feeling lightheaded.
“All those people probably just watched,” he whispered in my ear. “Totally inappropriate.”
I smiled and didn’t bother to check whether anyone had paid attention, not even when I settled into the car. It felt too good to care.
“Do you have any plans for today?” Ford clicked his seatbelt in.
“No. Did you have something in mind?”
He nodded. “Yup.” He started the engine and began to back up without adding anything more.
I chuckled. “Are you going to share it with me?”
“How about I give you a hint?”