Page 74 of Ford

Huh. Maybe he did want her. Because he moved his other hand around her waist, drawing her up against himself, all hard planes and firm foundations, and she so wanted to give in, to hang on to this amazing man who kept showing up in her life.

Who kept so many promises it took her out at her knees.

Oh no. He wasn’t in the least like any other man she’d known. And that made her want to weep because regardless of what he’d said, here he was, kissing her as if…

As if she mattered to him, indeed.

Please, no, she couldn’t fall for him. Because as soon as they landed back in America, he’d go back to his life as an active-duty SEAL, in and out of her broken life, and then yes, she’d turn into her mother, pitifully waiting for him to show up again, but…

But, heavens, the man could kiss. He had slowed them down, his kiss long and languid, his mouth tasting like toothpaste, his shirt smelling of cotton, and when he wrapped his arms around her, the sense that she could just let go and trust him turned her weak.

She softened her mouth and relaxed, winding her arms up around his neck, kissing him back, giving herself over to…

Danger. Because with Ford, she conjured up way too many happy endings.

Hello, she’d learned long ago, a girl like her got the right now, not the happy endings.

But Forddidkeep showing up in her life. Over and over and—

He lifted his head, his breathing a little hard, and met her eyes. Swallowed.

She couldn’t stop herself. “I want you too, Ford.”

He blew out a breath. Met her eyes. “I couldn’t believe it when you took after that guy. I was angry and so…scared. I was really scared.” His voice turned hoarse. “Please don’t do that to me again.”

Oh, uh. She nodded.

He kissed her again. And this time, something lit inside him, a hunger perhaps, because he practically inhaled her, pulling her against him so hard she could barely breathe. He kissed her mouth, nudging it open, taking possession, then dragged his lips away and kissed her neck, his mouth trailing down, then back up to take her mouth again.

Yes.

And maybe it was the stress of the past three days, maybe just the terrible ache inside to let go, but she kissed him back just as urgently. Needing to forget her mistakes and the fact that she might end up in a Russian prison and just lose herself, right now, to this man. To tell herself that she wasn’t her mother and that this man wouldn’t destroy her life, and…and…

Ford pressed her away, breathing hard, his forehead to hers. “Red, I’m… Oh…” He looked up, meeting her eyes, something of panic in them, and loosened his hold on her. “I really…” He blew out a breath. Met her gaze.

What—?

“Help,” he whispered, winding his hands through her hair. He searched her face. Then he lowered his mouth back to hers.

The train lurched.

Ford grabbed her around the waist, his other hand on the upper bunk to stabilize himself.

She put her hand down, hit the picnic he’d set up on the table, and dumped over the coffee, hot water burning her skin. “Oh!”

The train slowed, and he righted her even as he reached for a napkin. “You okay?”

She shook off his hand, grabbed the napkin, then— “The passports!”

But Ford was already ahead of her, yanking them up out of the mess of liquid, shaking them off. He placed them on the bunk and grabbed another napkin, wiping off the pages.

“Oh no.” She picked up the visas, now saturated. Thin, two-sided pieces of orange paper. “They’re ruined.”

Ford shook them out, then put them on the bunk next to his and began to wipe them off. “The type is smearing.”

The train stopped. Scarlett picked up the cups, then headed into the passageway to search for more napkins.

She spotted border officials at the end of the hall inspecting documents. “They’re here,” she said to Ford, creeping back inside.