Livia’s POV
Did I hear that right?
Ford wants me to take off my shirt?
Is he tipsy?
He seems to be. He’s not smiling or anything like that, but his eyes aren’t as alert as they usually are as he holds my gaze.
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he says gently. “Do you wanna come up to your room and put it on yourself?”
He starts to hand me the tube, but the thing is… I don’t want to put it on myself.
I’ve been enjoying the feeling of his hand on me, even if it’s just his fingers pressing on my skin. Any kind of contact. Any kind of touch. I’m craving for it. Gagging for it…
Slowly, I lift the hem of my shirt.
Ford steps back, respectfully averting his gaze. His throat is bobbing up and down. But I just keep lifting it until it goes over my head, keeping it on my lap
