“Baby girl?” Ford squints at me. “Are you really here, or am I that high?”

“You’re beyond high, but I’m really here.”

“But why are you here?”

“I don’t know.”

He crooks a finger. “C’mere.”

Driven by the buzz coursing through my veins, I let him pull me onto his lap. His chest is solid and hot against mine. I inch back and run my palms over his feverish skin. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better.”

He doesn’t ask if I’m okay. It’s obvious that neither of us are. Instead, he wraps his arms around me. “Sorry about the hard-on. Can’t really control it when you’re sitting on me like this.”

“It’s okay.” I bury my face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent and finding a calming wave of relief. With him, there are no expectations or complicated histories. No pressure for something I can’t give.

Ford is just here, warm and in the flesh, offering refuge when such a gift is scarce in this tower. He cares about me…but he isn’t in love with me.

Not like Liam is.

And I find freedom in that.

I nestle as close as possible, seeking comfort in Ford’s presence. My head is fuzzy as my hands wander over his abs, tracing the ridges of muscle and smooth skin. When I graze the open fly of his jeans, his body goes taut.

“What are you doing?”

I’m not sure what I’m doing. I only know I crave closeness and connection—a way to drive away the hollowness inside me. Grief and impaired judgment collide, thrusting me into a dizzying headspace of desperation and impulsive decisions. Shifting, I let my hand drift lower, and Ford sucks in a ragged breath.

“Novalee,” he warns, his fingers digging into my hips. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” I trail my thumb over the head of his cock, drawing a strangled moan from him.

He grabs my wrist. “Damn, baby girl. You have to stop.”

“Don’t you want me?”

“Of course I want you, but we’ll be in a shitload of trouble if we’re caught.”

“You don’t want to bid in the auction anyway, so why does it matter?”

“Forget the auction. I don’t want to get my ass whooped for touching you. Besides…” He lets a beat pass, his glassy hazel eyes boring into me. “It won’t take away the pain. Deep down, you know that.”

His words drown me in a tsunami of renewed grief, and I climb off his lap. Before I’m able to pull away completely, he settles me on the couch beside him. Charged silence hovers over us, the seconds taking up a full minute.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?” he finally asks.