Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
I tell her everything, from how he teased me to him touching me to us nearly getting caught.
“It’s like a total office love story!” she insists, and I can feel her excitement through the phone, echoing my own. “If you guys get married, I better be the maid of honor. And I want credit for getting you two together!”
I laugh. “How exactly do you get credit, Nat? You’ve never even met him.”
She scoffs like it’s obvious. “The only reason you guys messed around in that room is because you were trying to text me after all. I’m gonna start writing my wedding speech now. How dirty can I make it?”
I laugh again, telling her not to get ahead of herself even as I’m already imagining walking down the aisle in my dream dress to the head of Finance at the end. It’s an insane thought, but one I can’t get rid of for the rest of the afternoon.
By the time five o’clock finally rolls around, I nearly sprint out the office doors. I made Ford wait a couple of hours before fulfilling his demand to text him my address for tonight, and he replied with a winking emoji that I wanted to roll my eyes at but really just made me squirm.
The second I get home, I hop in the shower, taking my time shaving and exfoliating and using a deep conditioner mask I normally save for my self-care days. Afterward, I blow dry my hair and redo my makeup, purposefully taking longer than the tasks really need in order to drag out the hours I have left to wait. I’m not usually the kind of girl who gets hung up on a guy like this, but this whole day has thrown me for a loop.
There’s still an hour until Ford’s due to pick me up by the time I’m done with my hair and makeup, so I pick out my outfit—a cute black dress and heels—and grab myself a glass of white wine to try to relax. I call Natalie again to fill her in on the plans for tonight and get so caught up in talking to her that when there’s a knock on my door, I jolt.
Quickly hanging up on my best friend with a promise to update her on the date later, I grab a jacket and bag and open the door. The air escapes my lungs as I take in the man standing on the other side.
Ford looks … well, he looks like something out of my dreams.
I feel slightly less awkward about the fact I’m literally gawping at him because he’s staring right back at me with awe and hunger written all over his handsome face.
For a second, I genuinely consider telling him to cancel whatever plans he has and tugging him straight to my bed instead.
“Fuck, baby…” Ford groans, his voice gravelly and delicious. “You look fucking edible.”
I blush, trying to remember how to speak. “So do you,” I answer, clenching my thighs together to try and get rid of the pulsing between my legs at the sight of him. I slip out of my apartment, lock the door behind me, and take Ford’s offered arm so he can lead me out to his car.
“So, where are we going?” I ask once we’re inside the sleek, fancy-as-hell car that I’m in no way surprised he drives.
He grins at me, one hand on the wheel and the other on my thigh, driving me crazy in the best way.
“Telling you would ruin the surprise,” he says, and I roll my eyes at him as though I’m completely unaffected by his touch and voice and general overpowering presence.
We chat about life and work during the short drive to the restaurant, and when Ford opens my door and helps me out of the car, I gasp.
“I’ve seen this place in all the food reviewers’ blogs!” I squeal, excitement bubbling over. “I’ve been wanting to try it for ages but never had the time.”
Ford grins as he slips his hand into mine, squeezing once. “I’m glad you approve,” he says, leading me up the small steps and into the restaurant.
It’s just as amazing as I’ve seen everyone say it is. From the decor to the service to the food, it’s the best meal I’ve ever had. I catch Ford watching me eat more than once and dramatically moan when I bite into my dessert just to tease him. From the way his jaw ticks, I know I’ve hit my mark.
The server comes over with the bill, and automatically, I reach for my purse to pay my half.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ford practically growls across the table.
I pause, purse in hand, and raise my gaze to his, eyebrows arched. “Excuse me?”
Ford pins me with a stare that makes my panties wet instantly. “Put your purse away,” he states, enunciating every word.