“Then don’t,” Ford says as a Sharpe can. He nudges me and winks. “I know someone who can give you a great reference.”

  “Thanks.” I chuckle. “What about you? Do your brothers already have you scheduled out for the next year?”

  I hate that we’re talking about next steps like strict business associates. Like there is nothing more between us than this project and seeing it come to an end in the next two weeks.

  But isn’t that what I want?

  Isn’t that what I’ve tried to convince myself this is over the past week?

  “We haven’t really talked about it, to be honest. They’re not exactly thrilled with me at the moment. They’re working double time between S.I.N. and the press junket and they don’t feel I’m contributing.”

  “But you’re working double time too. For S.I.N. and here.”

  “They don’t exactly see it that way.”

  “Do you think you’ll regret it? Not being part of everything surrounding it? The public representation? Preserving his memory, and all the rest that goes with it?” I ask as if I have no clue why he doesn’t want to participate.

  “Only time will tell. Does it sit like a rock in my gut every time I think about what they’re doing, what I’m not, and the biography? Yes. I won’t deny that.” He shifts in the sand and clears his throat as the sun sets, and the sea’s end begins to blend with the darkening horizon.

  I wait for him to say more. I silently plead that he does, that he trusts me enough to ease the burden that’s weighing on his heart and soul, but he doesn’t.

  “You asked what was next for me,” he says, switching topics. Clearly he’s been around me for too long and has taken notes on avoidance. “I have my normal duties with S.I.N. . . . and maybe I’ll look for another property to convert into a Signature Sharpe one.”

  “Really?”

  He nods. “I’ve been mulling it over. I like the niche. The idea of it. Of course, I’ll have to have some returns from this one first to see if it’s financially viable, but I’ve had fun doing this. Enjoying the hands-on part has been rather unexpected for me.”

  I smile and don’t voice the question that’s on the tip of my tongue. Do you want a partner on the next one too?

  “You were a pro in every sense of the word, Ford. You blew my expectations out of the water. I seriously would have never known you hadn’t done this before.”

  “Same can be said for you.” He taps his glass against mine and holds my gaze with the funniest expression on his face. Like something he wants to say is on the tip of his tongue. But as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone. “I was thoroughly impressed, Sinclair.”

  “We make a good team,” I say and rest my head on his shoulder.

  “We definitely do,” he murmurs.

  And this is what I’m going to miss when this is over.

  Our peaceful unwind sessions after a long hard day.

  His little pep talks that make me feel validated. Included. Wanted. Heard.

  In simple terms, him.

  Ellery

  “What? No ice cream bar celebration?” Ford asks, interrupting a rather juicy part of my book, as he walks into our newest room we’re staying in since where we were is now under major overhaul.

  “There is no way I’m eating in here.” I look up to find him standing in the doorway, fresh from the shower with a pair of gym shorts on and everything else left wonderfully bare for my eyes to feast on.

  “Because?”

  I motion to the suite around us. It’s the nicest, cleanest, most comfortable place we’ve gotten to sleep and live for the past few months. “The last thing I want to do is dirty it up.” He snorts with a glance to the bed that has me smiling in turn. “Of course, you’d think that.”

  “I’m a guy. Do you expect any less? But you do realize in less than a month’s time, people will be ordering room service and eating in here, right?”

  “I’m well aware.” I internally huff and set my Kindle down on the bed beside me. I guess the hate-fuck about to occur in my book will have to be revisited and enjoyed in a bit. There’s nothing worse than being interrupted mid-sex scene.

  “Are you feeling okay?” he asks. “It’s late, and you’re opting to read versus sneak non-caloric ice cream.”

  “I’m opting to enjoy the softness of this bed.” I lean my head back against the headboard and revel in the feel of the mattress. “Remind me to give Katarina a raise,” I say of our interior designer who helped us pick out all the furniture and décor. “She did a hell of a job selecting mattresses.”

  “Really? Let me see.” He falls back on the bed and sighs, much like I did when I first sat on it. “Talk about heaven, but then again, I think anything would feel like it at this point after sleeping on what felt like plywood the last few months.”

  “I told you to stay in Sag Harbor.”

  “And I told you that if I go, you go, and you refused to go so . . . we stayed.”

  “Stubborn man.”

  “Hardheaded female.” We both chuckle, but as the silence stretches, Ford’s eyelids grow heavy. “We did good today, Elle.”

  “Really good.”

  “Every last item of furniture has been delivered save for those two broken barstools. Both kitchens passed inspection today. The exterior was painted. So many things. I feel like it’s so close.”

  “It is, but we still need a name so we can get the signage ordered.”

  “I know. I know.”

  Yes, each day brings us closer to the grand opening, but it’s also bittersweet too. Every item checked off our punch list, every trade finishing and clocking out for the last time, every walk-through of the inn in complete awe at the transformation is more than bittersweet.

  It’s a reminder that this is ending.

  It means . . . who knows what it means for Ford and me? We’ve yet to even broach the subject.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he murmurs, his eyes still closed, his arm stretched out so his hand is on my calf. His wet hair is leaving dark marks on the comforter beneath his head.

  “About?”

  “What if we partnered up again?” he asks as my heart leaps in my chest. “I mean, I’m more than certain your stepdad would jump at the chance for a long-standing contract with S.I.N. Who wouldn’t?” His arrogance knows no bounds, but he is right.

  Isn’t that what I had leveraged to get the okay to come here in the first place?

  “I know the financial burden of something like this could be overwhelming. S.I.N. could buy the properties and take on the fiscal responsibilities, and Haywood Redesigns could do the improvements with the caveat that I’ll work with you and no one else. Garland would be handcuffed, and you’d continue to get to do what you love and are incredible at. I mean, that is if you’re interested in working with me, Celery Ellery?”

  I stare at him and his closed eyes, my mouth agape. How can he just say something like that so casually and not freaking look at me?

  “Hear me out,” he says, mistaking my shocked silence for hesitation. “I’m not saying S.I.N. would take you out of that picture. You’d get a percentage of ownership in each property. I get that you think it’ll come off like you slept your way into the position, or that I’m only asking you because I feel obligated to or out of plain pity to stick it to your brothers, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re talented and crazy good at what you do. Besides, you’ve spoiled me. I don’t think I could do this with anyone else. So that’s why I’m asking you.”

  Excitement at the thought of getting to do this again bubbles up. Of doing it with him, even more so. The “yes” I want to shout from the rooftops is sitting on my tongue. I wish I could say it, but don’t we need to address the white elephant in the room? Or rather, the fact that we’re on the same bed, his hand on my leg, and basically living together?

  I mean, I was going to marry and live with Chandler with a whole lot less than there is between Ford and me . . . so why am I hesitating?

  Or rather, why are we not addressing it?

  Do I really want to know? Do I really want to be told that in two weeks this “fling” or whatever it is will be over? Or is it better to just stick my head in the sand?

  I pick up my Kindle and flip to where I was at.

  Just call me Ostrich.

  “You’re not responding.” Ford tilts his head back so he can look at me. “Wait a minute. I ask you to partner up with me, and you opt to read your book instead of responding?” he teases as he sits up. “I’m thinking I should take that as an insult.” And before I can react, he twists around and plucks the Kindle from my hand.

  “No,” I yelp, eyes wide as he taps the screen and words come to life.

  And my freak-out is for more than a few reasons.

  One, oh my God. He’s going to know what I’ve been secretly reading most nights while he taps away on his laptop. And it’s not that I’m ashamed, but . . . now he’s going to know.

  And two, Maxton’s biography is on there. In my library. And at this point I’m more than grateful that I had the forethought to open and close several of my other books so that the memoir is buried farther down the library on the off chance that he might see my screen. But still, it’s on there.

  “You’re ignoring me for . . . Oh. Wow.” He sits up straighter as his eyes widen. His eyes flash to mine, a ghost of a smile painting his lips before he looks back at the tablet.

  I gulp, and my cheeks turn what feel like ten shades of red.

  The scene I was reading was damn good. Descriptive and dirty and thigh-clenchingly sexy.

  He clears his throat. “This is really interesting stuff, Ellery. Even more fascinating is that you bookmarked the page.” He meets my eyes before reading out loud. “‘Her cry fills the small space as I slide my tongue up her slit then back down before burying it inside of her. Before owning every inch of her. Before licking her and pleasuring her with my fingers until her legs buckle, and my name falls from her lips over and over as I bring her to the brink.’ Whew.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “Should I see if you’ve bookmarked any of the other sex scenes?”

  “No.” I swipe at his hand, but he yanks the Kindle away. All I can do is laugh.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. Sex. Wanting sex. Wanting sex with me . . . it’s completely natural. Completely logical. And this? This is . . .” He grins at me. “Incredible.”

  He says that as if sex with him isn’t of the same caliber.

  Because it is.

  It definitely is.

  I yelp as he tugs on my leg with one hand and pulls me flat, climbing over my hips to straddle me.

  “Let’s see,” he says as he touches the screen. He sucks in a breath and groans. “This one is hot. ‘Ah, Lilly. This ass is perfection. I want it pink from your punishment. I want it violated by my fingers. I want it filled while I fuck you long and deep with my cock in that willing pussy of yours.’ Jesus.” He barks out a laugh that is strained. His eyes meet mine. One hand holds my Kindle, his other runs languorously up and down the midline of my chest. Under one breast, his thumb just skims my nipple, before moving on to the other one. His cock is thick, heavy, and hard where it presses against the seam of his shorts. “I definitely need to read this book. It’s . . . yeah.” He coughs out a laugh as his cheeks flush. I love that he’s slightly embarrassed by it.

  It lessens the fact that I am.

  Who am I kidding? It doesn’t.

  “What else have we bookmarked in here? Should we look?” He grinds his hips over me and my body burns a little hotter. “Eeny. Meeny. Miney Mo. Oh. Damn. Here’s one.”

  He leans forward and teases me with a kiss, but when I try to deepen it, he pulls back and simply tugs on my bottom lip.

  He clears his throat.

  “‘Hands on the wall.”

  “Only if you fuck me,” she says in a broken voice.

  “We’re getting there.” I laugh, but then groan as she jolts when I slide the head of my cock right into her opening.

  Every part of me tenses. I try to fight the violent desperation to take her with abandon. To pound into her. To chase my own bloody pleasure now that I know she’s found hers.

  My hips thrust ever so slightly into her. Her warm, wet heat grabs my cock inch by inch, until I bottom out and see stars.

  Fuck.

  Heaven.

  Hell.

  Just fuck.

  My hands grip the sides of her hips as she flexes those muscles around me. Once. Twice.

  “Lennox,” I warn, as her chuckle fills the room.

  She’s in control now. She owns me in this moment. With her pussy. With her confidence. With how damn good she feels.

  And I snap.

  Control lost.

  My hips slam against hers. I thrust over and over in a punishing pace encouraged by her words. Oh my God. Harder. Yes. Right there. Faster. Don’t stop. I’m coming again. Rush. Rush.

  And when she tightens around me this time, I lose the battle but win the damn war. I empty myself into her, my hips jerking, my vision going black, her name a groan of bliss on my lips.’”

  “I lose the battle but win the damn war. That’s rather poetic when talking about fucking, don’t you think?” He chuckles. “Look at me, Ellery.” He pauses and adjusts his hips so I most definitely feel how hard he is, how turned on he is, pressing against my lower belly. “Look. At. Me.”

  “Hmm?” I flash my eyes up. He’s so goddamn gorgeous it hurts to look at him.

  “You’re telling me, I can talk dirty to you, I can run my tongue over and in every inch of you, but you squirm when I read these hot-as-hell scenes to you?”

  “Ford.” I sigh his name out as he leans forward and tugs on my ear, the warmth of his breath sending chills over my body.

  “Do you want me to do this to you, Ellery?” A nip of my bottom lip. “Does it turn you on?” A tug of my nipple through the fabric of my tank top. “Do you want to act out this scene?” He leans back and slips his hand between my thighs to feel the heat there, the arousal soaking through my shorts. “Well, well, well. It appears you do.”

  “Ford,” I repeat on a strangled moan.

  He leans forward again, his lips taunting mine with an almost kiss. “I’m only in trouble when you say my middle name after it . . . and I don’t think I’m in trouble right now.”

  I already want him. I’m already more than wet for him, but I startle when his hands rest on my ass and squeeze.

  That action is followed by him burying his nose into my slit and taking one long slide of his tongue from my entrance back up. My breath catches. Every muscle affected by the lick of his tongue tightens in anticipation. Every part of me wants.

  “I’m going to fuck you, Sidney.” Another lick. “I’m going to bury my cock in this tight pussy of yours.” His breath hot against my tender flesh. “Then I’m going to slip my finger into your ass.” The soft press of his thumb against my rim of muscles. “I’m going to fuck you with both so that when you come, every single damn part of you does.” The slide of his tongue into my pussy so that every part of his face is buried against me. “Do you understand?”

  I nod, the dark promise of his words an aphrodisiac poured on top of the seduction he’s already plied me with.

  “Uh-uh-uh,” he murmurs as he fists my hair in his hand and gently pulls my head back as he runs the tip of his nose up the length of my spine. His finger slips into me just as his mouth reaches my ear and his dick presses against my thigh. “No nods.” He works his fingers in and out of me, the sound of how wet I am filling the room. “No easy way out.” They slide back out and the trace of his coated fingertip travels up the crease of my ass and then down. “I want you to make noise, Princess.” The tug of his teeth on my ear as his fingers tuck back in and curve against my G-spot. “I want you to scream.” A soft tug of my hair. “And I want to know you know who’s making you scream.”

  “I’m sensing a theme here.” His eyes are heavy with desire. His breaths shallow. His fingers run up and down the seam of my shorts so that the fabric is now damp. My pussy’s already swollen with desire. He rises from the bed. “Take off your clothes, Ellery.”

  Ellery

  His words are like putting gasoline on a fire.

  I’m already primed, already turned on, and now he’s going to order me around? Yes. Please. There’s something to be said about a man who likes to take control in the bedroom.

  And I’m all for it.

  I take my time stripping my clothes off. My tank top. My shorts. I take pleasure in watching his eyes darken and nostrils flare as I do so, followed by a lick of my lips and the slide of my hand between my thighs.

  The sound of slick flesh in the room as I let my head fall back and moan. He’s primed me all right. Now he just needs to finish the job.

  “Ellery.” His voice breaks, and it’s the only sign he’s affected—well, besides his rock-hard cock he’s currently stroking. His thumb capturing the precum and rubbing it around the head. “Turn around on your knees and grab the headboard.”

  “Grab the headboard?” I ask coyly.

  His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he crawls onto the bed, cock still in hand.

  “Mm-hmm. You’re going to need something to hold on to.” He reaches out and squeezes my breast ever so slightly. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

  “Or else?”

  Before I finish the words, I’m flipped over on my stomach and he smacks me on the ass. “Or else I get mine before you get yours.”

  Jesus. Who knew Ford had this side to him?

  I’m all for it.

  “Now up on your knees and spread them wide so I can admire what I want to fuck.”

  I do as I’m told, my ass in the air, my hands on the headboard. I jolt at the warmth of his mouth on the back of my neck, and the feel of his body as it ghosts mine where his erection presses between my ass.

  “You like these books. These scenes. How about I prove to you that what happens in books isn’t just fiction? That you can have it in real life too.” He nips my shoulder and then sucks on the sting of it, all while reaching around and rubbing his fingers over my clit.