Blissful Hook (Swift Hat-Trick Trilogy, #2)

by Hannah Cowan

Euphoria: A feeling you get from a good fuck, or from stepping off of an airplane after spending almost an entire day strapped into a seat so tiny only your left ass cheek fits.

Tyler Bateman, you are in for one hell of a rude awakening.

“Let me in,” she murmurs quietly, inching closer to me. The seconds flick away slowly around us. “You wouldn't like what you would see.”

Fuck. What are you doing to me, Gracie Hutton?

“Where does that leave you then? What's your so-called addiction?” I ask curiously. My skin flares when he turns and locks his eyes with mine. “You, Gray. I think I'm addicted to you.”

“If it hadn't taken you so long to finally admit you have feelings for me then maybe I wouldn't have been so damn shocked!” “I never said I had feelings for you.” He’s retreating now, looking out toward the window. “Fine. Then I'll leave. Is that what you want? Because I'm not going to keep doing this. If you don't want me, then I'll leave. Simple as that.” My words seem to spark a reaction from inside him because he whips his head to the side and lets out a string of curses before smashing our mouths together.

“Feel how hard my heart is beating,” I mutter, almost begging. “That’s for you. It’s been like that for years, but you never gave me the chance to tell you.”

She looks like a beautiful disaster. But for some ungodly reason, she's my beautiful disaster.

“If you see her in the lobby, turn around. If she's in the elevator when the doors open, wait for the next one. If you can see her wherever you are, close your fucking eyes. But I don't want to find you so much as breathing the same air as her again unless you want to spend the remainder of your days in a fucking wheelchair. Got it, Cody?”

“Gray?” He whispers my name and his Adam's apple bobs when he gulps. “Yeah?” Please don't say something that will tear me to shreds while I'm standing naked as the day I was born with cum dripping down my thighs. “When you told me you were falling in love with me, did you mean it?”

“Good.” “Good?” I repeat the word as if I have a personal vendetta toward it. “Yeah. Or else telling you that I'm in love with you would have been incredibly awkward.”