What He Accepts by Hannah Ford

Author:Hannah Ford [Ford, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-20T22:00:00+00:00

We showered together in the guest bathroom, and when we were done, Noah dried me with a towel, touching the cut on my cheek tenderly.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, hoping he would forget about his vow to make me wear a band-aid over it to the meeting with Penn Dylan.

He sighed and turned away from me to grab another towel, and I admired his naked body, the tight curve of his ass, the strength and musculature of his thighs. My clit pounded as I took in his form, and I shook my head. How could I be horny again already? I was starting to become as bad as him.

“We’re going to have to hurry if we want to be on time for the meeting.” He moved slowly as he said this, as if he didn’t give a fuck, then picked up the remote that was sitting on the marble counter of the bathroom and turned on the television that was mounted on the wall.

“You’re don’t seem that worried about it,” I said, as the sound of CNN began to fill the room.

“Don’t I?” he said sarcastically.

We got ready together, in the same bathroom, and something about it was insanely intimate, watching Noah at the mirror, a white towel cinched around his waist, his ripped torso shining with a few stray droplets of water that remained from the shower.

He shaved carefully, running the razor up his strong jaw, and the scent of his aftershave filled the room, making me shiver.

I put on a lingerie set of black lace, followed by a simple black dress, then dried my hair and gathered into a loose bun, always aware of Noah’s eyes on me, his gaze running over me hungrily.

When he was dressed in a crisp black suit, I put his cufflinks on for him, admiring the elegance of his clothes, marveling at the fact that he could go from looking like a professional athlete just a few minutes ago while he was running to the billionaire lawyer he was now.

The television in the corner was showing the news, and I watched in careful horror as they came back from commercial and the newscaster began to talk.

“We go now for an update on one of New York City’s most talked-about murders.” My throat caught as I waited for the B-roll to run, expecting to see a blown up picture of my face fill the screen. What picture would they use? I wondered. My law school ID picture? I hoped so. It was one of the few pictures of myself I liked. It was taken right when school had started at the beginning of my first year, fresh off summer vacation when my skin was still tan and my spirit was still unscathed and hopeful.

But of course they wouldn’t use that picture.

They would use my mug shot.

Jesus, my mug shot! I could only imagine what I looked like in that one, the picture being taken just after getting the news I was pregnant and then realizing that I was also being accused of murder.

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