Page 1 of Bearly Hanging On

Chapter 1

Harper

Damn this guy was a good kisser.

When he knows how much tongue is just enough to get you thinking about it moving lower, seeing what else it could do. When his hand cradles the back of your head and holds you firmly, but not aggressively, in place. When he tastes like rum and mint, and while you’d never thought of that as a winning combination before, you did now. I should know.

As someone who was perpetually on the dating apps, I’d kissed a whole lot of frogs, and while I was fairly sure this guy wasn’t going to turn into a prince, I was beginning to think it might be worth going back to his place to give him the royal treatment. As if hearing my thoughts, he pulled away, both of us smiling spontaneously as we were forced to suck in breaths. That moment, when our eyes locked and the chemistry between us was undeniable. It was always so perfect. In some ways, I wanted to end the date here, because the minute he spoke, we took things further, that was when it would all go to shit.

He’d leave the toilet seat up or snore all night. He’d fart in bed, or worse, didn’t believe in going down on a girl. Something, anything, would happen and I’d get the ick so damn bad I’d leave his place with a screech of my car tyres.

“So…” Brad, or was it Chad? His eyelids dropped lower as he stared at me. “Do you want to take this somewhere a little more private?”

Oh yeah, we were making out in the car park like a couple of kids with parents waiting at home. I glanced around, thankful that we weren’t giving other pub patrons a show.

“Maybe…”

I ran my hand down his chest, glorying in the broad span of it, the smattering of chest hair and the tattoos that peeked out from behind his collar. Yeah, I wanted to inspect each one of them up close and personal.

“Maybe?” Another kiss and another, little nipping things that made my head spin and my thighs start to rub together. “What do I need to do to convince you?”

Have a Hitachi Magic Wand on charge, I thought. Be able to breathe out your ears and have a tongue that doesn’t quit. Of course I didn’t say that. Instead, my hand slid down the front of those jeans. I’d been checking him out for the entire date. His arse looked biteable and his dick…

Damn.

I looked down, and he grinned as my finger fought to grip him.

OK, packing that much heat, he didn’t need to be a prince. A girl likes to feel a bit of stretch sometimes and it looked like Brad-Chad was going to give me just that.

“Alright, big guy.” I tried to keep my tone light, but managed to choke that out instead. Pretty sure that wouldn’t be the only time tonight. “Let’s go back to your place…”

Dating so many guys made me exquisitely aware of vibe changes. Had to be just in case they were mass murderers or something. I wasn’t getting Jeffrey Dahmer vibes right now, but something cooled his ardour faster than if I admitted it was the day before my waxing appointment and things were gonna be a bit stubbly. I looked up and caught the moment he smiled again, though the expression was completely different.

“I thought we could go back to yours.”

He tried to trail his fingers down the side of my face, but I stiffened.

“Don’t want to do that…” Shit, I had to take a guess at his name. I couldn’t call him Chad-Brad all night. “Brad.”

“Chad,” he corrected, his gaze hardening by the second.

“Right, well, unless you get off on the thought of my flatmate outside my bedroom door making ape noises as we have hot monkey sex, going back to mine is not on the cards.” I plucked open one of his buttons and slid my hand in under the velvety soft flannelette shirt. “So unless it’s the maid’s day off, if you want this?—”

“I want this.”

He slapped his hand down on the roof of my car, towering over me and yep, we were back in sexy territory. I looked up at him through my lashes.

“Then take me to your place or lose me forever, stud.”

I thought that was sexy, but apparently no. Chad went still again. Vibes were off. I repeat, vibes were off and that had my Spidey sense tingling. Why the hell was this guy running hot and cold on me?

“Um…” Great start, Chad, I thought, watching his brow crease as he struggled to come up with an excuse. “Look, my sister is at my place.”

“Sister…?”

My eyebrow cocked upwards.

“Sister,” he repeated with too much emphasis, nodding along to his own story. “She’s staying on the couch at the moment and… what?”

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