Page 79 of Renegade Rift

“Absolutely.” I nod, my smirk widening. “Because that’s what you deserve, Juliet—a man who will be so overwhelmed by your beauty and mind that he can’t help but dream of a future where you are the center of his universe even after only one date.”

“Right.” Her voice quakes, but the corner of her mouth twitches with the hint of amusement. “Well, maybe it’s a good thing you’re you and I’m me.”

“For tonight.” I pause, bring her hand up to my lips, and press a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I think you’re right.We’re exactly who we’re meant to be.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

JULIET

I’m a chicken.

A scaredy-cat.

Maybe even a little bit of a prude.

I wanted to kiss Ford.

And I didn’t.

There were so many opportunities. Not only at the bar, but outside the restaurant when he wrapped his jacket around me to combat the brisk summer breeze. And again, when we got home, and both reached for the tub of ice cream at the same time. Or when he walked me to my door, said goodnight, and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.

In every single one of those moments, I thought about making a move. After the moments we shared at the restaurant, it would’ve been so simple, warranted even, to push up onto the balls of my feet and just kiss him.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I let the voices in my head convince me that if he’d wanted me, he would have done it himself.

And now I’ve spent the last thirty minutes lying in bed wondering if he meant anything he said, or was it all just a lesson.

Am I really the only woman he wants to kiss?

Is he going to take a shower and think of me while he…I mean, I haven’t heard the shower start…Then again, he doesn’t need a shower to jack off.

Heat coils low in my belly, and I imagine Ford laying in a similar position as me—hand on his lower stomach, circling the sensitive skin just above his underwear, debating if it’s the right thing to do.

It’s not like I’m going to do anything. Even if I wanted to, I’m not sure I can bring myself to get out of my head long enough to feel any sort of pleasure.

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought of it the entire time I’ve been lying here.

On the one hand, if I could pleasure myself, it would be wrong to think about him—we’re just friends and this dating thing is only a series of lessons. On the other hand, loving oneselfisa lesson in dating, right?

At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

I drop my hand to the bed and fist the down comforter. God, why can’t I just be like Ford? So confident in my sexuality.

In every other aspect of my life, I’ve been able to pull myself up by my bootstraps and make things happen. Step by step, I’ve learned how to stand up for myself and be a woman that I can honestly say I’m damn proud of.

But with this, I can’t bring myself to find that conviction.

It’s not like I’m not turned on. Or don’t know how it works. I’m not a virgin. I’ve just never donethisbefore.

“Uuugh,” I let out a shrill screech of frustration and roll over, resigning myself to sleep off this unrelenting heat left behind by Ford Freaking McCoy and the filthy fantasies he put out into the universe.

Beside me, my phone buzzes to life, the light illuminating the otherwise dark guest room. I pick it up and see a message notification with Ford’s name.

Of course it’s him. The universe couldn’t just let me suffer alone in silence.

I swipe it open.

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