Page 112 of A Sweet Destruction

“Turn,” he said with a little twirl of his finger, making me bear my back to him.

The feeling of Ford sweeping my hair over my shoulder almost rent a sob from my throat. As his hands spread over my back again, resuming his exploration of our Mark, I had the thought that I should have been much more nervous than I was.

This was all new to me, not just with him. Hard to have it be any different with the path my life had taken, sheltered girl to finding her Soul Mate at seventeen, then having to shove down all the desires that came with it.

There was a flutter of anticipation in my stomach, sure, but not one of fear. The inherent trust in Ford, in the decision to do this with him, almost knocked me over from the force of it.

Eventually, Ford’s hands made it over to the spot just under my arm, to where the Mark started to curve up and around my shoulders before wrapping down to my hand.

Not wanting to disturb him, especially since it was making me feel nearly explosive with buzzing pleasure, I restrained a plea to let me turn around and look at him.

As if he heard the direction of my thoughts, Ford bent down to place a kiss on my shoulder and his hands on my bare hips. He turned me back around slowly, only lifting his head enough to get me facing him again before his lips settled on the front side of my left shoulder.

I knew where he was going, but the open-mouthed kiss he placed on my other shoulder still took my breath away. Kept stealing it as his mouth moved a slow path down to my upper arm. He lifted my hand, placing it on his shoulder so that it would be easier for him to reach.

He was moving so, so slowly. Enough that I didn’t stop the pained whimper from my throat. Ford’s eyes snapped up to me, holding firm as his mouth moved down another inch.

I felt his teeth on the next kiss, either from a nip of warning or his smile.

By the time Ford made it down to my wrist, I’d discovered that the hollow of my elbow was particularly sensitive. That the scrape of his stubble against the hidden skin on the inside of my forearm was enough to crack my sanity in half. That my pulse jumped to meet the warmth of his mouth when he placed his lips over my inner wrist.

All of those discoveries, and I still wasn’t quite prepared for the burst of light that exploded in my chest when Ford placed my hand in both of his and placed his mouth on the center of my palm, then my fingertips, then settling on the back of my hand—right over the eyes of the snake.

He was making me feel cherished, treasured. Something I’d convinced myself that I’d never be to him. In tune with me to a degree I was still mystified by, Ford noticed the slight change in my demeanor and looked up at me.

I shook my head, my throat feeling a little too tight for comfort. “I think I’d like to see your Mark now.”

Bellamy had said something once, after a few sips too many of whiskey, that seeing your Mark on you paranima was a…heady experience. Ford certainly seemed to agree.

I wanted to see it for myself.

Ford slowly dropped my hand, then reached behind him with one hand and ripped his t-shirt off. Now I did remember seeing him without a shirt on. Many times, all cataloged in my mind.

The first time I’d seen him do it, when he was still a lean nineteen-year-old, I’d had such an intense reaction, one the Bond took off with and ran, that I had to take an hour long walk in too-few layers just to get my thoughts back in order.

Eight years later, with no reason to push away those thoughts, and this close…well, it was no surprise my hands greedily clung to his shoulders. I pulled our chests flush together, causing us both to groan, and tipped up on my toes to kiss him.

Ford met me halfway, wrapping his forearm around my bare back and all but suctioning me to him. This time, the way our mouths moved together was slower, a little dirtier.

Eventually, gravity got the best of my weak knees and I started to let my weight fall away. Ford caught me first, then redirected so that I fell back on the bed.

He pulled away for a moment, looking at me with that same haze in his eyes, before diving back down with a kiss that tipped my head back against the mattress.

In a messy scramble of limbs, we pushed further up the bed. I went all the way to the pillows, but Ford stopped halfway, sitting up so that he could focus on pulling off my riding boots.

Right. We hadn’t even gotten so far as to take our shoes off.

Socks, his boots, his pants, my pants, all gone within seconds, discarded into a blind corner of the room. The slow torture Ford had put me through while touching every inch of our Mark seemed like the better option now. I wanted to savor the moment.

Then Ford reached down to the band of my underwear and I no longer cared. I was okay with fast, so long as it kept his large hands pressing into my hips.

Sitting back on his haunches and giving me a prime view of his muscled thighs dusting with dark hair, he rolled down the band of my underwear and kept going until I was revealed to him.

The force of his attention was enough to turn my entire body red with a flush. His eyes didn’t move an inch away from my center as he pulled the scrap of fabric away from my legs. Didn’t move as his hands returned to my thighs, stroking upwards to curl over my knees and slowly push them open.

Ford’s name was caught in my throat as a broken plea.

As if that was enough for him to remember this was real, he looked up. “Is there anything I should know, Esme? Because the second I get my mouth on you, I don’t think you’ll be able to speak coherently anymore.”