Hook, Line, and Sinker: A Novel (Bellinger Sisters Book 2)

Hannah’s heart was breaking.

He’d done it. He’d really done it.

She’d been concerned, of course. That Fox would return from his trip, having been duped by his best friend, and strain under the pressure of simultaneous shifts in his career and personal life. But she’d hung on to her faith, positive he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye and put a stop-work order on what they were building together. He’d done it, though. He’d really, actually done it, and as she clipped up the stairs to his apartment, her heart bumped along behind her, bruised and bloody.

God. The disobedient organ had almost burst free from her chest when he walked into Cross and Daughters, she’d been so happy to see him.

Stupid. So naive and stupid.

Get your bag and leave.

Just go.

Kissing him would only make the pain ten times worse, anyway. She’d kept the good-bye kiss in her back pocket as a last resort, knowing it would break down any defenses he’d built up over the last five days, but now . . . now she didn’t want to fall back on last resorts. She wanted to find a dark place to crawl into and cry.

Part of her knew that wasn’t fair. If Fox didn’t want to be in a relationship, she should respect that, be a big girl, and wish him well. After all, she’d known about his cemented bachelor status since the beginning. This wasn’t breaking news. But tell that to her heart.

Hannah unlocked the door and went inside, heels clicking as she traversed the apartment, Fox entering slowly behind her. The scent of his shower still hung in the air, and she breathed it in, making her way to the bedroom, where she’d left her suitcase packed and ready to go, some sixth sense telling her being prepared was wise. She’d hoped to unpack it again tomorrow, however. To stay in Westport. That he wouldn’t let her leave without figuring out where they stood.

As was her routine, she tapped on the pink Himalayan salt lamp, forgoing the overhead light, casting the dark room in a blushing glow. Heaving the case up onto the bed and unzipping it, she took out a pair of cotton panties, jeans, and a Johnny Cash T-shirt. Laid the outfit on the bed and went to close the guest-room door so she could change. But she drew up short when she found Fox standing in the doorway, outlined in pink, watching her with a forearm propped high on the jamb, expression torn and tortured.

“I need to change.”

He didn’t move.

Frustrated with him, with everything, she marched over and shoved at the center of his chest to try to get him out of the room, her annoyance only increasing when his sturdy fisherman frame didn’t budge an inch. “Let me change so I can go.”

“I don’t want you to leave like this.”

“We don’t always get what we want.”

Still, he stayed put, grinding glass with that square jaw.

And she’d had enough.

Hannah couldn’t remember a single time in her life she’d wanted to lash out so badly. By nature, she was not a lasher. She was a helper. A mediator. A solver. He didn’t want her to stay but wouldn’t let her change so she could leave, either? Who the hell did he think he was? Her hands itched to push him again. Harder. She had a more effective weapon, though, and she’d learned from the best how to use it. She’d be hurting herself in the process, sure, but at least she’d have her pride.

Show him what he’ll be missing.

On her way back to the bed, she stripped the turquoise dress over her head, getting an immense amount of satisfaction from his shaky hiss of breath. Slowly, she folded the borrowed garment, bending forward slightly to tuck it into her suitcase, and Fox’s guttural curse filled the room.

“Christ, Hannah. You look hot as fuck.”

Every last one of her nerve endings popped like champagne corks as his warmth materialized behind her. When she straightened and her bare back landed flush against his heaving chest, she could only compare it to that breathless moment on a Ferris wheel when you hit the top the first time and the world spreads out in front of you, huge and wondrous. Hot shivers traveled up her arms, starting at her fingertips, her nipples tingling and tightening—and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

A notch in Hannah’s throat made her want to turn around, press her face into his chest, and beg him not to walk away from them. She almost did it. Until he placed his open mouth beneath her ear and murmured, “Time for that good-bye kiss yet?”

And her determination to show him what he was giving up renewed itself.

Not only that, but she wanted to take a sledgehammer to his walls and walk away while the rubble smoked. Those desires belonged to a stranger. Then again, so did the love and heartbreak she’d experienced with this man. None of it was familiar and all of it hurt, so she’d indulge her impulses and deal with the fallout later. It was going to be painful no matter what, right?

Hannah turned, the smooth movement of her hands climbing his chest derailed by the tortured look on his face. She recovered quickly, however, taking tight hold of his collar and turning them, urging Fox into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. His eager blue eyes landed everywhere, her pouting breasts, her mouth, the place between her legs, his hands raking up and down the thighs of his jeans, throat muscles working roughly.

“Just one kiss,” Hannah whispered against his mouth. “Our last.”

He made a jagged sound that shifted a spike inside her. Made her want to hold him, but the hurt urged her on. Overrode the impulse.

Slowly, she straddled his lap and sat down, scooting until she met the proof of what he really wanted, the stiffness, the generous length of it. And she pressed down with her hips, letting her tongue tease into his mouth at the same time, soft lips writhing gently on top of hard ones, his stubble grazing her chin. Just as the pace started to pick up, his hands closing around her butt cheeks to draw her closer, closer, Hannah pulled her mouth away, both of them breathing erratically.

Fox’s fist wound in her hair, his hips shifting beneath her. “You didn’t strip for me just to be kissed, Hannah.”

He yanked her lower body tighter against his lap, dragging the valley of her sex over the ridge of his erection, rocking her once, twice, making her whimper loudly. “What else were y-you thinking?”

Fox huffed a pained laugh. “Whatever act you’re putting on, please knock it off,” he growled, grinding their foreheads together. “Just be my Hannah.”

The spike in her chest dug deeper. “I’m not your Hannah.”

A possessive light came on in his eyes, though conflicted. As if he knew he’d forfeited the right to call her that but wasn’t ready to relinquish the claim on his novelty just yet. Because that’s what she’d been to him, right? A novelty. A temporary diversion. As badly as she’d wanted to be different, she’d gotten the same outcome as everyone else.

Not special.

“Maybe I planted a seed at least?” she half whispered. “Maybe one day you’ll meet someone and this won’t be as scary.”

His eyes widened as she spoke. “Meet someone? Someone . . . else? Are you serious? You think this could happen twice?”

Hurt struck her. He wasn’t hiding his feelings. He wanted her, needed her, but was still choosing to send her away? Goddamn him. Hannah tried to climb off his lap, but Fox—looking panicked—surged forward and caught her mouth in a kiss. A soul sucker that put every cell in her body on high alert. Warned them they were being invaded. She struggled to keep her thoughts clear, to remember her plan to make him regret sending her away, but there was only the magic of his mouth, his strong, welcoming body, and the hedonistic rock of their hips.

Her own barriers came crashing down, releasing a sob in her throat, her hands coming up to frame his face, holding him, running her fingers through his hair as they kissed desperately, so very aware it was the last time. It soon became obvious they weren’t going to stop at kissing. A significant part of Hannah had known that when she took off the turquoise dress. His middle finger traveled down the crack of her backside to pet her flesh from behind, making sex that much more inevitable, because God, she was so wet. Instantly.

Their mouths moved at a frenzied pace, only breaking apart briefly to whip off Fox’s shirt and then dive back in, her palms climbing over muscle and tangling back into his hair. He added a second finger against her dampening panties, then a third, massaging her from the back, his tongue sinking in and out of her mouth. Oh God, oh God, she wasn’t in control anymore. Her body begged, pleaded for that full sensation, that stretch of him inside her . . . and she was fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans before she’d even made up her mind to do so, ruled simply by need, need, need.

Time stopped when she drew him out through the opening, stroking him up and down in a loving fist. The kiss suspended itself, but their mouths remained right on top of each other, breaths firing in and out.

“Go on, babe, slip it in,” he rasped, his eyes glazed with hunger and something else, something deeper she couldn’t name. “It missed you. I . . . fuck. I missed you. I missed you so much. Hannah, please.”

He’d struck her down, hurt her, made her vulnerable, so she closed her eyes and didn’t respond in kind, though the words ached to escape her throat. I missed you, too. I love you. Instead, she guided his shaft between her thighs, Fox grunting and tugging the G-string to the side, allowing her to position his tip just inside her entrance and slowly, slowly, take him deep, both of them watching it happen, voyeurs of their own lust.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Fox ground out, his head falling back. “No condom. I didn’t put on a condom, Hannah.”

He groped blindly for his wallet, but he gave up quickly, gasping and clutching Hannah’s hips when she bucked involuntarily, moaning on his lap, digging her nails into his shoulders. “I . . . don’t. I can’t.”

A shudder racked him. “You can’t what? Stop?”

Was she nodding or shaking her head? She had no idea. The deep press of his hardness robbed her of rational thought, sensation rushing to her core, quickening those intimate muscles, turning them into throbbing little pulse points.

“Hannah,” Fox said, forcing her to look him in the eye, his breath pelting her lips. “Are you on something?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, the importance of the conversation finally making it through the sex static in her brain. “Yes, I get the shot. I get it.”

She rode him with a circle of her hips, and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Oh. Jesus. That feels so fucking good.” He visibly struggled to remain coherent. “I’m clean. Got checked last time you were here.”

That confession made her quake. “And there’s been no one since, has there.”

It wasn’t a question. She already knew the answer.

Eyes clenching shut, he shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “God no, Freckles. I only want to be touched by you.”

His mouth was back on hers, kissing her into a state of desperation, his hands holding her buttocks tight to rake her up and back in his lap, his thickness entering and leaving her in smooth strokes that rubbed that place, oh Lord, that spot. Right there. It was already swollen from his fingers, and now he exploited it, moving just right. Exactly how she needed, delivering friction that engulfed her entire body in heat. Made her feel sexual and powerful and feminine and uninhibited. So much so that she broke the kiss to lean back, offering her breasts to his mouth with unsteady hands, whining his name when he sucked her nipples eagerly, hungrily, left then right, their flesh now beginning to smack wetly.

And then Fox brought a hand down, roughly slapping her bottom, his teeth capturing the lobe of her ear. “Touch your clit.” He spanked her again. Harder. Twice. “Help me get you there, Hannah. Now. Jesus, you’ve got me so fucking thick, I don’t even know when the end is coming. I just know if I touch you there, it’s over. Play with it.”

Breath rattling in and out of her parted lips, Hannah dragged her shaking right hand downward from his shoulder and found that sensitive bud, biting her lip as she rubbed it up and down, up and down, switching to quick, quick circles, her moan mingling with Fox’s as he jerked her up and back, faster, faster.

“Look at me while you do it.” A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his head. “Look at me while we get you off.”

“Not just me,” she managed on an exhale.

He shook his head, the movement jerky. “Inside this tight thing without a rubber watching you ride dick like you’ve never had it so good?” He leaned back on his elbows and started to upthrust, abdomen flexing, bouncing her on his lap, breaking the dam of her pleasure wide open. “Nothing in this world could stop me getting off.”

Hannah crested, lungs seizing, muscles locking tight as the orgasm took control, keeping her body prisoner while it wreaked havoc, clenching her sex around Fox and taking him past the breaking point, too. They ground out the pleasure, hips pushing down and pressing up, fingers digging into skin, teeth scraping flesh, loud groans rending the air of the glowing pink bedroom, his moisture streaking down her inner thighs, his dirty speech echoing in her head, prolonging the pleasure.

Inside this tight thing without a rubber . . .

Watching you ride dick . . .

Fox went flat on his back, taking Hannah with him, both of them spent but remaining locked together, her head resting on his shoulder. Their harsh inhales and exhales filled the room, his fingertips stroking up and down her back through the cooling sweat, mouth moving in her hair. A priceless embrace that was everything right in the world. Everything honest and perfect. And . . .

She wasn’t giving this up.

God help her, she’d ridden the tide of more emotions tonight than she’d ever experienced in her life. Hopefulness, denial, devastation, anger. When he’d walked into Cross and Daughters obviously determined to break up with her, she’d lost her courage. Her resolve. The heartache had been so immense, there’d been no room for positivity. There was only survival. But before he’d returned from the ocean, she’d decided to fight, hadn’t she? And now here she was, at the final round, weaving on her feet, closing in on unconsciousness, ready to quit just to mitigate the pain. Isn’t this when she needed to be at her strongest?

Isn’t this when being a leading lady really counted? When she wanted to quit?

And after what she’d accomplished over the last two weeks, she didn’t have any excuses. She could do anything. She could be brave. Lying in the fetal position with a pint of ice cream wasn’t going to salvage a relationship she knew damn well could be amazing and lasting. Fox needed her to believe in him right now, when his self-doubt was blinding him—and she needed to believe in herself, too.

Hannah kissed Fox’s shoulder and rolled to the side, climbing off the bed.

Outwardly, she appeared calm, but on the inside her pulse was going a thousand miles an hour, a trench digging itself in her stomach. Fox sat up and watched her through bloodshot eyes as she dressed in jeans and her Johnny Cash T-shirt, eventually dropping his head into his hands, fingers tearing at his hair.

She zipped her suitcase again and stood in front of him, working to keep her voice even, though the effort didn’t quite pay off. “I’m not giving up on us.”

His head came up fast, eyes searching her face. With what? Hope? Shock?

“Yeah, um”—she swallowed, gathered her courage—“I’m not. Giving up on you. On us. You’re just going to have to deal with it, all right?”

He was a man afraid to swim toward a life raft. She could see it.

“What happened since you left me?” she whispered, fighting the urge to stroke his face. His beautiful face that looked torn and haggard for once.

Fox pressed his lips together, looked away. Spoke in a raw voice. “It didn’t matter. It was never going to matter how qualified I am for the captain’s chair. How well I can manage the boat under pressure. No matter what I do, I’ll just be someone they mock and doubt and criticize. Someone they can’t respect or take seriously. A hall pass. The backdoor guy. And that will extend to you, Hannah. Your waters are clear and I’ll muddy them.” He massaged the center of his forehead. “You should have heard how horrified they were. Over us. I knew it would happen eventually, but goddamn, it was worse.”

With every fiber of her being, she wanted to cradle his head to her breast and be gentle. Be supportive. If he’d been pushed into breaking up with her, whatever his crewmates said must have been bad. Really bad. But he didn’t need sweet and cautious encouragement right now.

He needed a good, hard wake-up call.

“Fox, listen to me. I don’t care how many different beds you’ve been in. I know you belong in mine. And I belong in yours, and that’s what matters. You’re taking something that happened in college out on us. You’re taking the stupidity and shortsightedness of others out on us. The hurt they caused you . . . it’s valid. It’s meaningful. But you can’t take the bad lessons you learned and apply them to every good thing that comes your way. Because there’s nothing bad about what we have. It’s really, really good.” Her voice grew choppy. “You’re wonderful, and I love you. Okay, you stupid idiot? So when you’ve done some thinking and pulled your head out of your stubborn ass, come and find me. You’re worth the wait.”

Eyes heavy with moisture, chest thundering up and down, Fox stood and tried to wrap his arms around her, but she moved out of his reach. “Hannah. Come here, please. Let me hold you. Let’s talk about this—”

“No.” Her body ached from the touch she denied herself, but she could be strong. She could do what needed to be done. “I meant what I said. Take some time and think. Because next time you tell me good-bye, I’ll believe you.”

On unsteady legs, she turned and wheeled her suitcase out of the apartment, leaving a ravaged Fox in her wake.