Ford cut a bite of steak and pretended like we were having a perfectly normal conversation. "Your father mentioned it once. He was telling me about an economics professor that fell in love with an art student. At the time, I thought he was really talking about his crush on Polly."
"The art professor? Oh my god, that makes so much sense," I said. I remembered the way my father always talked about painting in a whole new way.
Ford looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "Have you ever been in love?" he asked.
I looked at the candles on the coffee table. Ford leaned back against the sofa and sipped his wine as he watched my face. I shifted my glance to the fireplace, then up to the record player crooning a bluesy ballad. I thought about my past boyfriends, but nothing about those relationships compared.
I had never felt such a jolt of recognition and desire as when I ran into Ford at my father's party. Even when I caught my high school boyfriend kissing another girl, it didn't compare to the depths of disappointment I felt when I saw Ford was my professor. Now my heartbeat echoed his words over and over again. He couldn't let that stop him.
"I've had boyfriends, yes. I'm not some naïve girl." I defied the new sensations even as they racked my body.
Ford's lips quirked around the rim of his wine glass. "I have never thought of you as a little girl," he said. "So, I guess the question is, what do you think of me? Am I some old, lecherous professor?"
I snorted. "Some lech, we've barely even touched."
A spark ignited in his eyes. "What about that kiss or am I really so out of practice that it had no effect whatsoever?"
The memory of that kiss still spun my head like a top. I fought off its dizzying affects and tried to sound cool and in control. "Out of practice?" I asked.
Ford turned his attention back to his plate. "I've been taking a little break from relationships. I don't know, trying to atone for past mistakes, but also there hasn't been anyone that stood out."
I wondered if his self-imposed break had lasted two years. Suddenly the sore topic of Libby Blackwell seemed like a distant and forgivable instance. It was a mistake, and Ford had spent long enough trying to pay for his mistakes.
"How do you know when someone really stands out?" I asked.
His gaze flicked up to mine in surprise and he took hold of the new subject gratefully. "It feels like you've already know them, or you recognize them somehow," he said.
Ford's words unknowingly echoed my thoughts and my heart leapt against my chest. I pressed a hand to it to calm myself down. "Like love at first sight or just strong attraction?" I asked.
Ford set down his wine glass and leaned forward. The corner of the coffee table was small in between us and I wondered if it was gone if I might fall right into his arms.
"I think I might believe in love at first sight," he said quietly.
"Really?" I scooped up my wine to hold something between us. "That statement was riddled with qualifiers."
Ford smiled and plucked my wine glass from my weak fingers. "You of all people should appreciate my desire to do firsthand research," he said.
He set aside my glass and closed the space between us. I held up a shaky hand and asked, "You would really declare our relationship to the college administration?"
"So there wouldn't be a single thing between us," Ford said. He captured my hand and pressed it to his heart.
I could feel his pulse racing under my palm and the pace matched the blood rushing like wildfire through my body. Ford's mouth was serious but his lips parted with a faint smile. I leaned forward, holding the corner of the coffee table for support.
Ford's lips brushed ligh
tly against mine. "I'd lay it out on the line, just please, tell me it leads somewhere."
I slipped my hand from his heart up to curl around the back of his neck. I pulled him close and parted my lips to welcome his kiss. We fell together and our lips moved hungrily. Ford groaned deep in his throat and I caught his desire on parted lips. He delved deeper into the kiss and our tongues tangled together, tasted until we both gasped for air.
I pulled back half an inch and whispered against his mouth. "There aren't any rules holding us back anymore?"
"You tell me, Clarity; I want you, I want all of this, but I won't push." Ford pushed himself back and leaned against the sofa again. His eyes were a clouded midnight blue, his lips still shining from our kisses.
"Was it only hot when you felt like we were breaking the rules?" I asked.
Ford gave a harsh laugh. "No. It was never about the rules or some illicit affair. It's just this." He lunged forward again and caught me in a searing kiss.
His mouth pressed against me, demanded me to open, to give in, and it felt so good I moaned my surrender. Ford was right. This passion that passed between us like a crashing wave had nothing to do with cheap thrills or taboos. It felt as natural and as powerful as a storm and we were powerless to control it.