Page 12 of Mr. Hook-up

Well fucked, but in one piece,I thought.

With our fingers locked, I brought her to the edge of the ballroom, where the music wasn’t as loud and the crowd wasn’t as thick. “It’s quieter over here. Makes it easier for us to talk.”

She let out a small, soft laugh. “You’re so tall and broad and”—she wiggled her fingers out of mine and touched the whiskers on my chin and jaw—“I see so much handsomeness even though you’re only showing very little of your face.”

I reached around and grazed the small of her back. “Do you want to know what I think of you?”

“I can feel it. When you were approaching us at the bar, a heat moved through my body, and when you stood there with my friends, it happened again. And now, I can feel it once more. There’s nothing simple or secretive about your stare, Mr.Boston. I don’t know if just any girl could feel it, but I certainly can.”

I gazed at her glossy lips—their roundness, fullness—and pulled away a piece of hair stuck to them.

“Am I right when I say you can’t stop thinking about devouring me?”

A sound came out of me that was half growl, half chuckle. “Yes.”

“Well, you have me here. What are you going to do with me?”

I took a step back, shaking my head. “I’m going to spend as much time as I can admiring you because one, I can’t believe you’re finally in my presence, and two, you look even more incredible than you did in that photo—something I didn’t think was possible.” When I steppedtoward her again, my hand dived into her hair, holding it, squeezing the locks into my palm. That was when my dick started to fucking throb. “And sexy. Love, you’re so goddamn sexy.”

“I’m blushing. The lace is just hiding it.”

My hand moved to her face, palming her cheek, tilting it up toward me. “You know, since we Hooked, there’s something that’s been eating at me.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I mentioned—or maybe I didn’t—that it’s almost statistically impossible to match at one hundred percent.” Was that a conversation we’d had through text or one that had taken place only in my head? I couldn’t remember—she was making everything fuzzy and impossible to recall. “That means we’re perfectly compatible, and I’d wondered what that would feel like when I finally met you.”

Her hand landed on my chest, dropping as low as the center of my abs. “How does it feel?”

“It’s hard to describe.”

I saw the whiteness of her teeth, the nipping of her bottom lip. “How about I take a stab at it?” She paused. “There’s this tingling in your chest that’s moving low, low, low, but it doesn’t disappear. It restarts like a constant loop. And this flutter, like the feathers from the ceiling are tickling every inch of your skin.” Her chest rose and fell, visible only because the top of her dress was so fitted. “And there’s this constant urge to touch me.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “All of that. Every bit.”

“Mr.Boston, do you know what I find interesting?”

Her voice was like this mesmerizing song, one I could listen to forever. “Tell me.”

“This app was created for hook-ups, one-night stands, where you get what you want and move on. So, technically, after tonight, there’s a chance I’ll never see you again. Never talk to you again. We’ll share something so wild and passionate ... and then be done.”

Hearing her define a night of sex, usingwildandpassionate, was so fucking hot.

And before Love, that was all I had wanted.

One night.

But the need to see her again, touch her again, before I even had her, was overwhelming.

As those thoughts resonated, they shocked my system.

I’d developed Hooked for the opposite reason—the reason Love had just described. Why was I suddenly making this so complicated?

Why was I craving more?

She was the answer to all those questions.

The feeling in my body, the tightening in my chest. Two things that would have happened even if we hadn’t matched so high.

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