Page 74 of Sin Bin Daddies
He tastes like toothpaste and something purely Ford, and when he backs me up against the counter, I gasp into his mouth.
“Breakfast is going to burn,” I murmur.
“Don’t care,” he mutters, kissing me again.
We eventually manage to salvage breakfast, laughing between bites, shoulders bumping as we eat.
Afterward, we end up on the couch, a sitcom playing on the TV, though I barely register what’s happening on-screen. Ford stretches out beside me, one arm draped over the back of the couch, the other absently scratching behind Sunny’s ears.
I glance at him, my chest tightening in a way I don’t entirely understand.
Ford catches me looking. “What?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head, smiling.
This cannot be real life. I only have to work on game days and spend the rest of my time getting railed by the hottest men I have ever seen. There is no way this is real life.
“Nothing at all.” I smile.
He nudges me with his knee. “I want to take you somewhere nice for lunch today.”
My brows lift. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He shifts, tilting his head. “Wear a nice dress. Heels.”
I arch a brow. “Heels?”
Ford grins. “I like your legs.”
Heat blooms in my cheeks, but I nod. “Fine. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
An hour later, we step into a sleek, upscale restaurant, the scent of grilled steak and expensive wine thick in the air.
Ford is in all black—dress pants, fitted button-down, top button undone, sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms.
Fuck, he’s so hot.
I barely register the hostess leading us to the table before I spot them.
Asher.
AndAshley. Multi-billionaire. A-list actress. My brain short-circuits. I am so star-struck!
Ashley looks up, smiling warmly. “Madeline, right?”
I nod, barely managing to form words. “Uh, yeah.”
Asher grins. “We wanted you to meet Ashley. Thought we’d all have lunch together.”
I slide into the seat beside Ford, my brain still reeling. This doesn’t feel real. Champagne is poured, glasses clinking, conversation flowing.
Asher, ever the enigma, is respectful but playful, winking at me over his glass. Ford, steady as always, rests a hand on my thigh under the table, grounding me.
And as I sit there, sipping champagne with a world-famous actress, I can’t help but think?—
What the hell is my life right now?
