Page 21 of Puck & Make Up

And not just because Rosie’s his half-sister.

I always knew Fox Brown was dangerous to me—hence the barbed wire and brick walls and big ass bombs—but inthismoment, with his arms around me?

I’ve never realized anything is more true.

Wrapped in his embrace, smelling his spicy, male scent, feeling his body pressed to mine…makes me want so much more than I know I can have.

Makes me want so much more than I would ever allow myself to even think Icouldhave again.

But I still can’t make myself step away.

Can’t pull out of his hold, can’t drag myself from the heat of his body, the scent of him in my nose. Can’t bring myself to stop him from murmuring gentle words at me, from soaking in the comfort he’s offering.

Only…when he leans back and swipes a thumb beneath one of my eyes and then the other, gently brushing my tears away, I know Ihaveto.

Have to go cold turkey before I get addicted and deal with withdrawal from the drug known as Fox.

But even as I gather my defenses, as I prepare to erect them between this man and my heart, I get a glimpse of his face.

And yep, I know I’ve ruined everything.

Panic slices through me.

“You should go,” I say quickly, jerking out of his hold and rushing to the front door.

I wrap my fingers around the metal handle, but before I can turn the knob, he’s there, his chest against my back, his body surrounding mine, his palm settling on my hand.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper back.

His fingers flex around mine, but the rest of his body grows still. “Sugar.”

“You should just go.”

He shifts a little closer, and my eyes slide closed at the feel of him. “You won’t tell me?”

God, I want to, especially when he uses that soft voice to gentle me, when he’s so close, when he’s being so,socareful with his strength.

But—as previously explained—my picker is broken.

I’mbroken.

And I want him too much to risk letting him in.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

“You just spent the last twenty minutes crying in my arms, baby.”

My heart squeezes hard. “I told you I was PMSing.”

He’s quiet and statue still for a long,longmoment.

Then he exhales and the blip of guilt I feel when I hear the disappointment in his voice cuts deep. “Okay, sugar,” he says quietly. “I’ll go home, even though you didn’t give a second thought to standing me up.”

And…cue more guilt.

“Fox—” I begin.

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