Page 62 of Attraction (Mobsters + Billionaires 3)
He shuffles back. “Unless you don’t…want to tonight because of everything. I-I can imagine that’s not much of a turn-on.”
“You being scared out of your mind of me? Yeah, not a turn-on. But you whispering into my ear what you want,” I say, pointing at my crotch. “Very much a turn-on. I just…I don’t want to be the asshole.”
“You already said you can’t be an asshole when you care about someone,” he says, rising from the couch.
Grabbing my hand, he pulls me to standing and starts dragging me toward the stairs.
“So…this is happening?”
He looks back at me, uncertain. “Well…noteverything.”
“I don’t care about everything. I care aboutanything.”
He raises a brow. “Unless you have something on your calendar.”
I shake my head vehemently. “It could be the pope, and I would cancel it.”
“Damn Skippy,” he says, tugging me up the stairs even faster.
Most brownstones in Manhattan are a series of cramped rooms, but not Ford’s place. It’s been opened up, made airy with light and art and greenery.
We make our way to his bedroom, which has beautiful cathedral ceilings and gorgeous light filtering through the tree in his courtyard.
He starts taking off his shirt.
“Wait, Ford. You’re skipping all the steps.”
He begins unbuttoning his slacks, shaking his head. “I need your skin.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
He looks over at me, his brows stitched together. “Take off your clothes.”
Suffering from whiplash, I undo the first several buttons on my shirt. “Who are you? Giving a mob boss directions like that.”
His grin is somehow both shy and certain. “I think I might be your boyfriend, so…get the lead out.”
“We haven’t even had dinner together.”
He snorts. “We’ve had, like, a million dinners together.”
“But not adatedate.”
“Okay, get naked. Let’s see the naughty bits, and we can go to dinner after.”
I open my mouth, speechless.
“You said I needed carbs. Fine. Touches first, carbs second.”
“We don’t have to rush into this, you know. I’m not rushing you. I promise.”
“Yeah, I noticed. It’s annoying. I’m rushing you. Literally can’t wait another second,” Ford complains, stepping out of his underwear as he finally rips his shirt off, standing there naked save for his socks.
I stop, my shirt barely unbuttoned and my pants slightly undone. “Ford,” I wheeze out. “You’re so beautiful.”
He looks down at himself and then up at me, wide-eyed. “I am?”
“Yes. You’re the most perfect man I’ve ever met.”
