Page 8 of Wrong Number, Right Fox (Dial M For Mates #6)

JOSS

From the moment I heard there was only one room, I knew I was in trouble.

It was already hard enough being around Garner—the pull to brush past him a smidgeon too close so that our bodies touched, to reach out and grab his hand, to sit close enough to feel his breath—it was all getting stronger and stronger by the day.

I’d been able to refrain. There were times I’d catch myself just on time, but I managed. But now? Now we were sharing a room. One room. One bed. A sad little settee that could barely hold a throw pillow or the floor were our only other options. I was in trouble. Big trouble.

The moment we stepped into that enclosed space together, all I wanted was to wrap my arms around him and pull him in close.

So instead of getting myself fired, sued, or worse…

rejected, I panicked. I announced that I needed food and walked out the door like that would fix the problem.

Obviously, I couldn’t hide from him the entire trip, and honestly, I didn’t want to.

But this—whatever this thing between us was—wasn’t exactly appropriate.

I needed air and time to compose myself.

I took the stairs instead of the elevator. Burning off the energy might help, and waiting for the elevator meant it was easy enough for me to go back and pull him in for that kiss. This was better.

When I hit the bottom landing, there he was… Garner, waiting, a smile already on his face. What was funny about me walking out on him, not even offering to bring him back food?

“Were you planning on taking us somewhere that required cardio first?” he teased.

He was kidding. Probably. Maybe. I didn’t know. Something in him had shifted. He seemed almost... giddy.

Then he reached out and took my hand. Just like that. Reach and grab as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And the really messed-up thing was, it was.

“I get it,” he said gently, giving it a squeeze. “We don’t have to talk about it. But I get it.”

And then he led me out onto the street, and suddenly all that spinning—my mind, my emotions—stilled and centered right where our hands touched.

I didn’t care about work or boundaries. I didn’t care about what this meant for the company or the contract.

All I cared about was him and where our bodies met.

“You don’t have to hold my hand,” I murmured.

“No,” he said, and brought it to his lips. “But I want to. Is that okay?”

I nodded, heart thumping loudly in my chest. “Yeah. It’s okay.” It was more than okay. It was everything.

We walked a few blocks to a Mediterranean place and grabbed a table.

I ordered the first thing I saw because I didn’t want to take my eyes off him long enough to read the menu.

We didn’t talk about what was happening between us—we didn’t need to.

Acknowledging it in silence felt like enough.

And when dinner was over, he took my hand again as we stepped outside.

We barely made it half a block before he pulled me into a shadowed alleyway, crowding me gently against the brick.

“Tell me you want this too,” he whispered, voice rough, mouth hovering just above mine.

I didn’t answer with words. I tilted my chin up and kissed him—soft at first, just a brush. Then again. And again. Until his lips parted and his tongue swept into my mouth like he’d been waiting all night.

My knees wobbled. I clutched his jacket.

“This will change things,” I said when we broke apart. “But I’ll still get the work done.”

Garner smiled, leaning close, lips brushing my cheek. “Oh, it’s definitely going to change things. And I don’t care about the work right now.”

Truth was, I didn’t either. Harold would understand—or not. But that was a worry for tomorrow.

“Let’s go back to the hotel.” I couldn’t wait to peel his clothing from his body.

He pulled back enough to grin, his eyes looking at the bulge in my pants.

“We should probably wait a minute.” I gestured to the very obvious erection he was sporting.

“I don’t have to hide mine,” he said, bold and warm. “No one could see you by my side and be shocked.”

Back in the room, we barely had the door shut when both our phones started ringing.

Mine was Harold—of course it was Harold.

Persistent bastard. I stepped into the hallway to answer it while Garner fielded a call of his own, something about Denmarke.

When I came back in, he was pacing in front of the window, still mid-call, so I slipped into the bathroom for a second, took a breath, and let the heat in my face settle before cleaning up a bit.

When I came out, he was hanging up.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. My brother is being my brother.”

“Oh—I thought it was work.”

He shook his head. “Yes and no. But even if it was news that the company was part of a hostile takeover, it could wait. I have much better things to do right now.”

Then he disappeared into the bathroom with a wink. Gods, he was going to be the death of me.

Garner was still brushing his teeth or whatever when I crawled up onto the mattress, already half laughing at myself for how obvious I was being. I’d pulled the sweater I borrowed from him on—if borrowing meant stealing it from the back of the chair—and curled up against the pillows.

He stepped out a minute later, towel around his neck, face freshly scrubbed, and just… stopped when he saw me.

“You okay?” he asked, as if I hadn’t just made the most obvious invitation in the world. Even the front desk clerk gave me a knowing smirk.

“I’m great,” I said, patting the mattress next to me. “But I’d be better if you were right here.”

His smile turned crooked in that way that made my stomach drop. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t.”

Garner came over, the weight of him dipping the mattress as he sat beside me. “Touching okay?”

“Please,” I said, without hesitation.

His hand landed on my thigh, warm and solid. My breath caught. He leaned in slowly, kissing my cheek, then my jaw. I tilted toward him, instinctive and ready.

“You want to stop, say it,” he whispered.

“I won’t,” I whispered back, already tugging at the hem of his shirt. “But I will tell you if anything’s off.”

His eyes told me he wanted this as much as I did, but I believed one hundred percent that if I asked him to stop at any point, he immediately would. I was safe in this man’s arms.

“Good,” he murmured. “That’s really good.”

We kissed again, but this time it was different, as if it was somehow more important.

Slow at first, curious and sweet. But it didn’t stay slow.

Not when he climbed over me, eyes lit up and hungry, almost animalistic.

He grinned so warm I felt worshiped, desired, needed.

I laughed when he straddled me, my back hitting the sheets.

The playfulness came easy, something I’d never experienced before.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he said, hands framing my face.

I gave him a look, that based on his response, shouted my insecurities.

“I’m saying it because it’s true, not to get you into bed.” He kissed my forehead. “I have to admit, I like being up here—I can’t wait to see you come apart underneath me.”

“Yes. Please. Now.” I was to the point of begging.

“Oh,” he sassed, “I intend to.”

Clothes came off in bits and pieces—mine first, then his.

There was laughter and playfulness between kisses.

He teased my choice in sweaters; I pointed out his bear socks.

That kind of thing. But it felt right, safe.

And when he finally settled between my legs, both of us bare and shaking a little, I cupped his face and kissed him slowly.

“I want you,” I said. There was no point hiding it or being coy. We were adults, communication was key.

“Then you’ll have me.”

He reached for the lube I hadn’t even seen him bring in.

Not that I needed it. I was so slick and ready for him, something he noted as his fingers circled my entrance, and then one slipped in, sliding in and out until I was bucking beneath him.

That’s when he added a second and then finally a third.

Every shift, every motion came with soft check-ins: “Still good?” “This okay?” “Too much?”

Each time I answered, at first quietly, almost unsure because I’d never been treated this way before, but as my need ratched up, my answer became please.

”I need you inside me.” I grabbed his shoulders, pulling him closed. “Please.”

“If you insist.” He gave me a searing kiss before lining himself up with my entrance and slowly entering, inch by glorious inch, until he bottomed out. He stayed there, watching my face, his eyes glued to mine.

“You feel so—” He pressed his forehead to mine.

“I know the feeling,” I moved my hips. “Now move already.”

He barked out a laugh. “Bossy much?”

Before I could sass back, he did. Slowly at first and then faster and harder, my hips bucking beneath him. He thrust into me over and over again, his hands wandering, his mouth finding mine for brief heated kisses. I wrapped my legs around him, unwilling to let him disappear, even for a second.

It was fucking amazing.

“Garner.” I wasn’t even sure what I was asking for.

“I’ve got you.” He waited until I met his eyes and said again, “I’ve got you.”

And he did.

I held back my orgasm as long as I could, wanting this moment to last longer, but eventually there was no keeping it back, my cum shooting between us with barely a brush of his hand.

He sped up slightly, and moments later he followed, his cum shooting into me, his knot growing—filling me to the point where it hit that fine line between pleasure and pain. Gods, this man was amazing.

We stayed tangled up after, connected by his knot, breathless and sweaty. My eyes fluttered closed, my consciousness slipping away, the orgasm taking everything out of me.

The last thing I remembered hearing before falling asleep was the word, “Mate.”

Did he think this was a game of chess? If so, he definitely won.