Maybe Swearing Will Help (SWAT Generation 2.0 3)

An hour and forty-five minutes later, I joined him at the restaurant we’d chosen over text in the last hour and raised my brow at him and his pouty face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked. “You’re acting really weird.”

The muscles in his temple worked as he ground his jaw together.

“I’ll tell you later,” he muttered darkly.

I looked in his front seat as he slammed the door and gestured with my hand.

“What’s all that?” I asked curiously.

He shrugged, unwilling to answer.

“Ford,” I said, grabbing a hold of his hand.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he said, trying to slip his hand free.

I’d had enough.

“Listen, Chevy,” I growled, my temper rising. “I’m hungry, a little bit nauseous, and I have to pee. But if you force me to, I’ll stand right the fuck here until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

Ford’s eyes narrowed.

“Do you want to break up?” I asked, getting a sinking suspicion in the pit of my stomach.

I’d forced his hand, and now he was backed into a corner.

Maybe he really didn’t want anything to do with me.

Maybe this was all one-sided.

Maybe…

Ford growled and moved, his big body pinning me to the truck.

“No,” he snarled. “I do not want to break up, you silly, stupid little shit.”

I blinked at the fierceness of his words.

“Did you just call me stupid?” I asked, blinking rapidly as if that would help the words that I’d just heard.

He lowered himself until he was pressing his hard length against my belly.

“I called you a silly, stupid little shit, actually,” he growled, his mouth now on my throat, just below my ear.

I blinked and shifted, trying to get closer to him but trying to get myself under control, too.

But my body wasn’t listening to me anymore. It was listening to Ford.

“That’s not nice, Mazda,” I breathed, shivering slightly when his lips met that spot between my shoulder and my neck, biting down lightly.

My fingers clenched his uniform shirt, and I was slightly happy that he only had a t-shirt on, because when I moved my hand up to rest against his smooth, heated and scarred skin, it only made me hotter.

I loved touching Ford.

I’d wanted to do it for so long that sometimes I felt like I was touch hungry.

But only when it came to him.

“I’m mad because I wanted to talk to you before we had to leave for my parents’,” he said, scooting back slightly to stare into my eyes. “I wanted to run by the house instead of getting something to eat.”

“We are…” I hedged.

“We are,” he agreed. “But now that we have to meet Hayes and his dad for lunch, I’m not going to get as much time.” I was confused as hell until he dug his erection into my belly. “We have to be there by four to get dinner. And I had plans.”

Plans that I could clearly feel as he ground his hips into me.

“Call him and cancel,” I suggested. “It’s likely that they haven’t even left yet.”

Ford leaned back and stared into my eyes.

Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and placed a call.

“Yeah, Hayes. This is Ford. We’re gonna need a rain check,” he said brusquely.

The vibrations from his chest made my nipples pebble.

“Thanks. You, too. Bye.”

Ford’s eyes were positively hot as he stepped back even more, putting distance between us.

“Park at my house,” he ordered.

Then he moved and opened my car door for me, ordering me in with just a look.

I narrowed my eyes but did as he asked without complaint.

Once I was safely ensconced in the car with my seatbelt on, he closed the door and hurried to his own vehicle, getting in and waiting for me to pull out before following me.

When we arrived at his place, I didn’t take the time to screw around.

I walked right up to where he was unlocking the door and looked in the bag. Or tried to, anyway. The moment I started to look, he moved it.

He held it high above my head so I couldn’t reach it and looked down at me.

“I need to say a few things,” he murmured.

“You’re really starting to freak me out,” I muttered darkly.

Ford grinned and gestured for me to go inside.

And since it was freezing ass cold, I decided to give him what he wanted.

Walking inside, I plopped down onto his couch and crossed my arms.

He followed me, sitting on the coffee table in front of me, the plastic bag gripped in his hand.

“I just want you to know,” he said, breathing out roughly. “That no matter what this says, I’m not mad.”

I frowned.

“I’m not mad. And I’m actually really fucking excited about it.” He paused. “I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because it’s with you. Maybe because I’ve loved you for a really long fucking time, and just tried to deny it. But I… I want this.”