Page 31 of The Hang Up

“It was described to me as a chef’s wet dream. And I knew I had to have it.”

I swallowed the emotion building in my throat before I choked on it. Before it could get so immense that I couldn’t breathe. “When?”

“When did I buy this place?” He turned to the refrigerator—a Wolf Subzero, of course—pulled out another two beers, and handed me one. I grabbed it like a lifeline, absorbing the cold like a hoarder clinging to their favorite objects. A hint of pink dotted each cheek, telling me his answer before he said the words. “Last month.”

The intensity of my anger had me on my feet and backing him into the refrigerator I would sell my left kidney for.

“You’re upset—”

“Stop. Stop talking.” We were barely an inch apart. I glared at him, having to crane my neck to see the cautious expression in his eyes. “Stop doing whatever this is.”

“Having a beer? Getting to know you?”

I pressed my cold hands against his chest, and they warmed immediately. “Stop being so fucking sweet. I’m not doing this—” I shook my head. “You can’t fucking do this to me.”

“You’re swearing a lot.”

I pushed him into the fridge, silently apologizing to her. Why was the fridge a girl? “I thought we agreed on this.”

“Remind me.” His voice was hesitant, like he didn’t want to set me off. Too late.

“I don’t need romance. Or you taking care of me, Joshua. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I could have resisted. I’ve wanted you for years. Even while knowing you wanted me. It wasn’t easy. But then you—” A wave of emotion hit, and I couldn’t continue. Not without breaking down. Bawling like a baby. Again. My hands dropped to my side. I needed to leave. To save myself.

Joshua raised his hand to my face. He had amazing hands. Big and strong. Just one cupped the whole side of my face. I leaned into his hand, screaming at myself to not give in. But how could I stop something I’d wanted most of my life? But Teenage Brock hadn’t known what he wanted. Adult Brock did.

He thumbed away the moisture leaking from my eyes. Leaning in, he kissed the crease between my nose and my cheek, and the care and sweetness in the gesture broke me. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

And then his lips touched mine, and I leaned into him, absorbing his strength. I felt cared for. Safe. But it wasn’t real. It couldn’t last. But I’d lost my chance. Now, I was helpless to push him away.

But I also couldn’t handle the tenderness in his touch. In his kisses. I surged forward, grabbing his shirt and crushing our lips together. I licked into his mouth, trying to start the fire that would change this from romantic to hungry. I needed to walk away, but I couldn’t.

Joshua kissed me, but I could tell he was holding back, and I wasn’t having any of that. I bit his lip, and he growled, turning us around and slamming me against the fridge. “Don’t hurt, Bella,” I said nonsensically.

“What?” His expression was glazed over with need and lust. For me.

“Don’t stop.”

And then we were kissing again. Deep, hungry kisses. He grabbed my arms and raised them over my head, holding them in one large hand as his other roamed over my body. I gasped for breath. My anger burned away, leaving my body raw and exposed.

He punished me with hard kisses. Staking his claim. His hand cupped my jaw, turning my face and giving him access to my neck. He mouthed sweet kisses, but before I could protest, he scraped his teeth against my skin. His large hand rested on my chest and needy whines escaped me. I wanted to touch him. Feel him. Pull him closer, but he gripped my arms tight.

“Joshua,” I moaned. The deep rumble of his laugh had my body arching into him, my movements frantic and needy.

“Is this what you want, sweetheart?” His voice sounded almost calm. Intentional. In control. And I needed that. I needed someone to ground me, but I also needed him to get the fuck on with it.

“Please.”

“So sweet. So tasty. All stretched out for me. I’m going to take care of you. And take care of this.” He reached between us and palmed my erection. I bucked against his hand. Needing more. Always more. He bit my neck again, and his breath was hot against my skin. “You’re mine, sweetheart. No matter what happens, Brock. You’re mine.” And I knew it was crazy. Too soon for it to be real, but I let myself believe it anyway.

He undid the button of my jeans, and I tried not to come before he’d even touched me. His large hand wrapped around my cock, his strokes in time with his ragged breaths. I was helpless. I couldn’t do anything but feel. My hands were bound by his above my head as he pushed me against the fridge of my dreams and jerked me off. Fuck. I wouldn’t last long.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said against my neck. “You can let go.”

And that was all it took.

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