Hook, Line, and Sinker (Bellinger Sisters)

It was painfully obvious he’d never heard that word before. Not from a woman. Hannah couldn’t blame a single one of them, either. There was something about the way he spoke so frankly, touched with an aim toward arousing, moved so fluidly, that made inhibitions and insecurities seem irrelevant. They were only two people scratching an itch, and there was nothing wrong with that, right? He was a walking invitation to let loose.

But she wasn’t falling for it.

Hannah didn’t have a game plan. Couldn’t formulate one when her brain and her vagina were at total odds. So she spoke honestly, without second-guessing herself.

“Okay . . .” She licked her lips, whispering into the dark. “Fine. You made me this way. You made me need to . . . do this. Talking about blowing off steam and . . . and the shirtlessness. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes,” he growled beside her ear. “Let me finish you.”

“No.”

His hands curled into fists on the door, a humorless laugh pushing the hair at her temple around. “What are you worried about, Hannah? Making things weird between us? It won’t. You know what is weird? The fact that I haven’t fucked you. It’s as easy as breathing for me.”

“No, it’s not.”

As soon as she said it, the belief turned solid as concrete.

That was the edge she heard in his voice. That was why he’d seemed to almost be performing this morning. Acting. Overcompensating.

A pause ensued. “What?”

“It’s not easy for you. Is it?” She turned between Fox and the door, looking up into his guarded expression, a heavy object tumbling end over end in her stomach. “Sex is what you do? Maybe. But it’s not all you do. Stop trying to push that garbage on me. You did it this morning and you’re doing it now.”

His straight line of white teeth flashed in the darkness as he puffed a laugh. “Jesus, Hannah. Here we go with the psychology bullshit.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

All at once, his demeanor turned casually seductive. He dropped his mouth down, leaving it a millimeter away from hers. “You know,” he rasped, his lips ghosting over hers. “I could talk you into it.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

Okay, she really shouldn’t have said that.

His ensuing smirk spelled disaster.

“Drop the oil, wet girl,” he said. “We both know you don’t need it.”

God, that was such a cocky—and annoyingly true—statement. The line should have irked her. Not pushed her back toward that pinnacle of need, right where she’d been before she’d glimpsed the potential demons inside this man.

Her breath accelerated, heat licking at her buzzing nerve endings. She’d already admitted to Fox that he’d been the one to turn her on. But she needed to check the boxes of her own desire here. It couldn’t be him that did it for her.

There was no denying that she wanted to share something with him, however. She’d called him out on using sex as a weapon, called his bluff on intimacy being so easy for him. His wall had come down briefly, unnerving him, and now Hannah wanted to be vulnerable in front of him. To give Fox a piece of herself in return.

An apology, maybe. Or an invitation to watch her be defenseless, as she’d seen him a few moments ago.

Exposure for exposure.

Hannah dropped the oil.

And he chuckled knowingly.

The sound cut off quickly when she slipped her fingers down the front of her panties, slowly parting her wet folds with her middle finger. Fox’s innate sexuality allowed Hannah to keep eye contact while doing something so intimate. Something so out of character. Touching herself in front of a man, being the star of the show. She was stepping way outside her comfort zone to try to let him in.

The pad of her finger rode over her clit, nearly buckling her knees.

She made a sound, half moan, half stuttered breath.

“Hannah,” he hissed between gritted teeth, those hands planted high above her head on the door, flexing thick laborer’s muscles. Oh Lord. Having this man standing so close, exuding bucketloads of masculinity, smelling of sweat and massage oil, was going to end this pretty fast. “Let me take over.”

All she could do was shake her head, a tightening sensation already beginning to occur deep in her core, some unreached place that she must only be tapping now. She would have remembered feeling this way before. This out of control and focused at the same time. Stroking herself to climax in front of this man was the ultimate rush, and yet, there was so much more happening. Communication passing between them that was way more important than physical relief.

Fox, obviously not giving up on throwing her off course, ran his nose up the slope of her neck, humming in her ear. “I was trying to keep this innocent, but maybe you’re holding out for a better offer from me?” His breath filled her ear. “You want me to spread you out on the bed and use my tongue on that pussy, Hannah? Say the word and I’ll do the rest. All you have to do is slide your fingers into my hair and hold on.”