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inside her. She was so ready, so needy, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder as his thumb finally began its intimate massage. Slow, rhythmic circles. Measured, smooth thrusts. He built her with murmured words of endearment, and he built her with his insanely sexy fingers, and as her body burst for him he tipped her head back and kissed her through it.
    Ford held her as no man had ever held her. Ruby clung to him when he swept her up out of the water and laid her on the sheepskin rug in front of the fire, his cock thick and rigid as he rolled on top of her and pushed himself inside her. A shuddering sigh left his body when she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in deep.
    “So good … so fucking good…” His eyes raked her face, almost as if he were looking for affirmation.
    “Best ever,” she whispered. Because he was. He really, really was.
    It was well after midnight when they finally got around to picking up their wine glasses. Ford had propped himself up against the pillows in bed, the white cotton sheet slung low on his indecently tanned hips, and Ruby sat beside him, more demure with the sheet tucked under her arms.
    “That was one hell of a welcome home, Rubes,” he said with a grin, his fingers playing with hers on top of the sheet as he eyed her over the top of his wine glass. “You must have really missed me.”
    “I never gave you a second thought.”
    “Liar.” Ford laughed under his breath, then sighed heavily. “I thought about you.”
    Ruby let his words settle in. She could feel all of the old wounds opening up. The hope and disappointment every time the phone rang, the missed birthday cards and Christmases.
    “Yet you never called.”
    “No.” He raised his eyes unflinchingly to hers. “No. How could I, Rubes? You needed to be here, and I needed to be somewhere else,” he paused, scanning her face. “I still need to be somewhere else.”
    She nodded, her throat suddenly thick with emotion. “And I still need to be here.”
    Ford stroked the back of her hand. “Phoebe must be all grown up now?”
    It was as much a statement as a question, and he was right. At twenty-one, Phoebe had just finished university and was having the time of her life flat-sharing with her two best friends. But the truth was, it had never been just about Phoebe; Ruby’s attachment to home went far deeper than that. She was a home bird by nature, a characteristic amplified a million times over by the sudden loss of her parents. She’d painstakingly rebuilt her life from the ground up, and she needed routine and stability every bit as much as Ford needed sand between his toes and an ever-open ticket. Their hearts were compatible, but their lives and needs were a million miles apart.
    She placed her wine glass down and turned to him. She didn’t want to talk anymore. If tonight was going to be as good as it got for them, then they needed to make every second count.

Chapter Seven
    Ruby woke slowly. It was barely six in the morning and still pitch black outside the small, snow-obscured windows. She was warm. Really warm, and Ford was just waking too, if the sleepy kisses on the back of her neck and the growing erection nestled between her legs were anything to judge by.
    “Do you always wake up like this?” she said, reaching a hand behind herself to fondle his cock.
    “I’d like to,” he said, his hands full of her breasts as he nuzzled her neck.
    Ruby closed her eyes, concentrating on the physical pleasure rather than the emotional pain of wishing his words could come true. He was gloriously hard in her hand, and she twisted around in his arms and pushed him flat on his back. If this was it, she wanted to know everything there was to know about Ford. She wanted to taste him.
    She saw the surprise in his eyes slide into appreciation and then lust as she pulled herself up to kneel beside him, her hands still on his erection. The shallow rise and fall of