Hook, Line, and Sinker (Bellinger Sisters, #2)

by Tessa Bailey

H (12:40 AM): Let’s start “Leaving on a Jet Plane” at the exact same time and listen to it together.

A pleasurable buzz tickled her blood, and she lost all self-awareness, talking to anyone who would listen about any topic that popped into her head, from the running of the bulls in Pamplona to the fact that people’s ears never stopped growing. And her brain told her it was interesting. Maybe it was?

There was no helping it. She felt like the sunrise coming up over the water after a bad storm.

“You a virgin, Hannah?” Fox rasped, lightly scraping his teeth up her throat. “No,” she whispered, eyes dazed. “Thank God,” he growled, growing impossibly harder. Hungrier. “Once I’m good and deep, I don’t think I’ll be able to slow down.”

I want you underneath me so bad that I can’t lie in bed without already feeling you there. I’ve never even had you, and your body haunts mine.”

“It’s wrong every time someone makes assumptions about what you feel or want. You set your own expectations for yourself and there’s nothing … less masculine about saying no, if that’s what they’re putting on you. Jesus. Of course there isn’t.”

“If I’d met you in college, Hannah, I could have excused the shit I did before. Chalked it up to wild oats or something—and been your man. Through and through. But now I’ve just been doing this so damn long. I’ve … paved over whatever chance I had at a clean slate. I’ve become what people seemed to want me to be. I’ve earned my reputation, and as good as you are, as sweet and fucking wonderful as you are, Hannah, I don’t want to be the one thing you fail at. Or the choice you question.”

Tonight he’d told her his modus operandi was to leave before any woman could demean him. Well, Hannah wasn’t going to allow that. She could show up after their argument, after the hurtful words and revelations, and prove their relationship was resilient. That he could be part of something stronger than the pull of the past. That she could look him in the eye and respect him and care. She could show up, period. That was what she’d been doing all along, perhaps subconsciously, and she wasn’t getting off course now. Hopefully she would leave Fox with the belief, the possibility, of more. The courage and confidence to try again. Hannah’s eyes landed on the folder of sea shanties resting on her bed. Yes, tomorrow she’d fight, in more ways than one.

All his cards were on the table. He’d taken off a layer of skin last night and exposed himself. Yet here she sat, not budging. Just being there. Right alongside of him. Permanent. And he was starting to realize the commitment already ran both ways. He’d formed it long before now. For Hannah, hadn’t he? Somewhere along the line, he’d started thinking of Hannah as his. Not just his friend or girlfriend or sexual fantasy. His … everything.

But most importantly, the sense that she belonged to him—that they belonged to each other—took root. Which explained why, a few hours later when they walked into the recording studio and several band members looked Hannah over with interest, Fox wrapped an arm around her shoulders and almost growled, Back off, she’s taken. This man was fully overboard.

And now he was going to open up wide, expose himself to all manner of outcomes he couldn’t control. Because he was in love with Hannah. Stupid, hot-under-the-collar, pulse-tripping love that crowded his chest and throbbed in his fingertips. Might as well face it, he’d started stumbling last summer, and now? Now he was flat on his ass with canaries taking laps around his head. He loved her humor, her tenacity and bravery, the way she defended the people she loved like a soldier in battle. He loved the fact that she didn’t shy away from the tough subjects, even though they scared him in the moment. Her iron will, the way she closed her eyes and mouthed song lyrics like they were baptizing her. Her face, her body, her scent. She’d infiltrated him, become a part of him before he’d realized what was happening, and now … He didn’t want her out. He wanted to stay locked in her goodness.

“You’re a surprise, Hannah. How could I hate them?” He cleared his throat hard. “Even familiar … you’re a constant surprise.”

“I had it bad for you. If the convention didn’t make it obvious, I thought for sure the Fleetwood Mac album would do it.” His voice stumbled. “I’ve got it so bad for you, Hannah. Really”—he blew out a breath—“really bad. I tried to keep you out of here.” He knocked his free fist against his chest. “But you won’t go. You’re never going to go. You just won’t.”

“Fox, if we were together, my trust would be the only trust that matters. And you would have it. I know who you are. If other people haven’t looked closely enough, that’s their flaw. Their dilemma. Not ours.”

“I don’t know what trying looks like for us. I just know that I want to.” “Oh, Fox,” she whispered, bringing them chest to chest and pressing close, laying a cool palm against his cheek. “We’ve been trying this whole time.”

“Knees up, Hannah.” He pulsed inside her, pupils blocking out the blue of his eyes. “Let’s see how deep I can get it before you scream.” Spoiler: it didn’t take very long.

She intertwined their fingers on the pillow, like she already knew. Of course she did. This was Hannah. The first and last girl he’d ever love.

“Whoever we become together, Hannah,” he said, mouth roaming over hers, fingers reaching down to lower his zipper. “I’m yours and you’re mine. So it’s always going to be right.” His throat started to close as he pushed inside her, those thighs of hers jerking up into the perfect position. “I didn’t know what right felt like until you,” he choked out. “I’m holding on to the good you give me. I’m holding on to you.” “I’m hanging on to you, too, Fox Thornton,” she murmured unevenly, her body propelled up the bed on his first drive, eyes glazing. “Never letting go.” “I’m in for the good, bad, and everything in between, Hannah.” He pressed his open mouth to the side of her neck and pushed deeper, deep enough, close enough to feel her breathe, and rejoiced in it. “Decades. A lifetime. I’m in.”

“Do you ever get so happy, you can barely stand it?” “Yes.” She reached up and cradled his jaw. “With you? All the time.” He made a sound in his throat, brushed some snowflakes from her cheek. “Doesn’t feel like enough to say I love you at this point.” “Our love is always enough. It’s always more than enough.”