But Hannah didn’t seem to care. She buzzed about, bending over and examining the gifts. “Presents!” she said.

“Mm…” I stared at her pu**y. She was trotting around in the slip and thigh-highs and no panties. I walked into the coffee table and nearly ate it. “And—fuck!” I rubbed my shin. “And flowers. Here. For you.” I tapped the vase of roses on the dinner table.

Hannah flew over and hugged me tight. “So sweet, Matt. Thank you.”

I brushed my hands against her ass while she clung to me.

“Oh, hey, before I forget. I’ve got a new number. Did you try to call?”

“No.” Hannah’s brow knit.

“Yeah. Here.” I’d written my new TracFone number in my notebook. I tore out the page and brought it to Hannah. “I dropped my phone.”

She blinked and accepted the paper. “You dropped your phone? And it broke?”

“Yes. In … water.” I nodded. “Rushing water. Icy cold. Outside. A stream.” I made a streamlike gesture with my hands. Hannah was not buying this shit.

“In a stream,” she deadpanned.

“Mm.” I did the hand gesture again. A smile tugged at her lips.

“Okay, Mr. Mysterious. I’m guessing you dropped it in a stream called the toilet and you’re too embarrassed to tell me.” She fetched her phone and began changing my contact info, then paused. “Hey, how did you get a new phone?” She surveyed the room. “Actually, how did you get all this stuff?”

“I’ve been hiking into town.”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “You have?”

“Yeah. I mean, I dyed my hair.”

“Matt … you still look exactly like yourself with black hair.”

“Okay, okay, wait.” I disappeared into the bedroom, emerging some minutes later in my incognito ensemble: hat, jacket, sunglasses, scarf. “How about now?”

Hannah fought her amusement. Her dark eyebrows drew together. She wanted to be pissed, I could see that.

“It’s just … Matt, if you get found out”—she laid a hand on her chest—“I get found out. Your family will hate me. Your fans will hate me. Everyone. Have you thought about that?”

“Hannah, I’m not going to get found out. I promise. Believe me, I want that less than you. I have to go out sometimes, you know?” I returned to the bedroom and pulled off my winter clothes. Hannah followed me to the door.

“As long as you’re careful,” she said.

“I’m a paragon of caution.” I balled up a shirt and tossed it to her. “Bird, if you don’t put your cute little butt away…”

Hannah snickered and pulled on my shirt. The sleeves flopped over her hands and the hem reached her thighs.

“Maybe I was hoping for an encore.” She lifted a brow.

“An encore, huh?”

Hannah leaned against the doorway. Even in my oversized shirt, she was a bombshell. Her sumptuous curves, her heavy hair, her plump lips …

“Mm, you.” I padded across the room. Hannah was here, finally, with me—and we were alone. The knowledge went straight to my head.

I took her hand and drew her toward the bed.

“Let me see,” I said, “what I can do about an encore…”

Chapter 19

HANNAH

It was eleven at night by the time Matt and I finished in bed. Or maybe we were just taking a break.

My hair was a nest and the sheets smelled of sweat and sex.

I curled against his side.

“Mm,” I hummed. “I’m spent.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Matt said. “I don’t want to waste my time with you.”

“Then let’s stay up as late as we can.” I kissed his temple.

Sadness overlaid everything and I couldn’t ignore it. Whatever else life contains, Matt once said to me, it’s sad because it has to end. At the time, I thought he was strange and morose. Now I understood. No happiness that weekend would go untainted because on Sunday I had to leave. And maybe I could see Matt the following weekend, but I was still looking at another week without him—and another, and another. How long?

I sat up and stretched. A paperback lay on the bedside table.

“Lee Child?” I grinned down at Matt.

Even after hours of f**king, my breath hitched at the sight of Matt naked. He sprawled on his back, hair wild and lids at half-mast. His lean, muscled limbs lay gracefully over the sheets. One arm bent above his head. And my eyes kept straying to his beautiful cock, which lay against his thigh. Good Lord … I felt like I was getting a full frontal from a male model.

He smiled lazily at me and I wanted to jump his bones. Again.

“Yeah,” he said. “Jack Reacher. He’s a badass.”

I finger combed a knot from my hair. “I wouldn’t know. I’m just surprised to see genre fiction on your bedside table.”

“Are you?” Matt sat up and moved behind me. He lowered my hands and began to carefully untangle my curls. “Well, for one thing…” He kissed my shoulder. “I write genre fiction, remember? The Surrogate is sci-fi. And then there’s Night Owl … which is romance.”

My shoulders stiffened and I dug my fingers into the bed.

“You okay, little bird?”

I bit my lip. How could I explain to Matt that my defenses flew up at the mention of Night Owl? He would feel guilty, and it wasn’t his fault.

“It’s nothing,” I said.

Matt’s hands stilled.

“Is it horrible for you, Hannah? The book being out there. Are people bothering you?”

“No. It’s fine, really.”

“Are you sure? Babe, I know how it is … when your private life becomes public knowledge. I know how terrible that feels.”

“Matt, it’s no big deal.” I reached back and rubbed his thigh. What was he getting at? “People don’t know Night Owl is true, and no one is really harassing me about it. I’m not famous like you, remember? Nobody cares.” I smiled.

Okay, so I was lying. I did feel uncomfortable with Night Owl out in the public. The book was so raunchy … so detailed. And even my boss had read it. Mortifying.

I cleared my throat. “Nate’s obsession is a little worrying, but other than that…”

“He’ll drop it.” Matt sounded vaguely disappointed. “Trust me. He has no case.”

“Yeah, I hope so…”

Matt loosened another tangle from my hair. “Anyway … I like genre fiction, Hannah. Literary fiction teaches you how to write. Genre fiction teaches you how to plot.”

“You and your surprises.”

“You and your bird ways. You want some hot chocolate?”

“That sounds good. And I want to open my presents.”

I dressed in Matt’s shirt and he pulled on flannel pants. The cabin was delightfully warm.

Matt watched me as he filled the kettle. I loved it; he couldn’t take his eyes off me.

“You sure you don’t want me to boil the water?” I grinned.

“Ha. Stand back and watch a pro.”

I touched my lips as Matt struggled to get the burner lit. Do not laugh, do not laugh …

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“This one burner requires some finessing,” he murmured.

“Fortunately you’re good with your hands.”

“Don’t you know it…” The flame burst out and Matt flinched. So did I. My poor adorable lover. How was he surviving?

He lit a fire and we sat on the couch with our cocoa. He brought my presents to the coffee table, piling them around Laurence’s cage.

“Sorry, Laurence, nothing for you. I didn’t know you were coming.” When Matt leaned toward the cage, Laurence pressed himself to the bars and sniffled at Matt’s nose.

Okay, that was the cutest f**king thing …

“Oh! Wait.” I dragged over my suitcase and retrieved the presents I packed, one for me and one for Matt. “From the condo, remember?”

Matt tilted his head. “Huh, you’re right. How the hell did we forget to open those?”

“It wasn’t Christmas. And we had a lot on our minds.” I smiled and leaned against Matt. His hand strayed up and down my bare thigh. “But this…” I moved my gift for Matt away from the pile. “Let’s open this one tomorrow.”

Matt was smiling roguishly. “No problem,” he murmured. “You sure that’s a gift for me, or is it a gift for you?”

“Both of us?” I grabbed one of my presents. My cheeks burned.

Matt had wrapped my gifts with plain red paper. He kept up a running commentary as I opened them. “I only go to one little grocery store,” he said. I hugged the stuffed rabbit and kissed Matt’s frown. “They only had Valentine’s stuffed animals.” Lube. “Not sure if you like that type.” Massage oil. “That was the best one I could find.” Chocolate. “You don’t have to eat it.” Three books—a new biography of Elliott Smith, Patti Smith’s memoir, and a romance novel.

“This is brilliant.” Matt tapped the memoir. “And this, I don’t know, it’s new and acclaimed. I know you like Elliott Smith.”

“And this?” I giggled, displaying the romance.

“Ah, that … I thought it would be funny.”

I read aloud from the back cover. “‘Destiny’s powerful new employer’”—I whipped my hair dramatically—“‘becomes a dark horse in the race for her heart.’”

We laughed.

I thanked Matt for my gifts and he went on apologizing. I gave him a long, languid kiss—and that silenced him.

“Matt, really,” I whispered against his mouth, “I’m so touched. I didn’t expect any of this.” I sat on his lap while I opened the present from the condo. “Did you wrap this?” The gold paper was creased like origami; the black ribbon wound around the box just so.

“Nah, I had it wrapped. I wrapped those—” He nodded toward my other gifts. “Which is why they looked like lumpy pillows.”

I laughed and kissed his chin. Lumpy pillows was putting it nicely.

“What can I say? I’m domestically challenged.” Matt lifted my shirt and stroked my bottom while I opened the box. I shivered. Absence doesn’t make the heart go yonder or grow fonder. Absence makes people horny as f**k.

Nestled in the box on a little satin cushion were a pair of silver earrings and a matching bracelet and ring. Delicate owl-shaped charms accented the jewelry. Rhinestones winked in the silver. I traced a finger over them. My night owl …

I kissed Matt’s chest. “They’re beautiful.”

“So you don’t forget about me.”

“Oh, please. I’ll never forget about you. Never.”

We kissed again and got tangled up. Matt’s hands drifted under my shirt. He caressed my back and sides, gently at first and then with growing urgency.

I didn’t know if I could go another round, but Matt wasn’t pushing it. In fact, he only seemed to want to touch me.

I savored our kiss and moaned as he touched my stomach, my br**sts, my thighs.

“So beautiful,” he sighed against my neck. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re mine.”

I pushed my fingers through his thick black hair. “I feel the same way. I want to know you, Matt. I want to know you better.”

He sat back and his hands settled on my thighs. He gazed at me evenly.

“I hope you mean that in the biblical sense.”

I thwapped his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“What is this lately? You … feeling like you don’t know me.”

I tucked my head under his chin, avoiding his eyes. “Your memorial. Everyone at your memorial knew you better than I do.”

“Everyone at my memorial thought I was dead. I think you know more than they do.”

“Come on, I’m serious. You never talk about your parents, your brothers, your faith.”

Matt tensed beneath me. He slid me off his lap and stood. He began to pace beside the coffee table, watching the fire.

“What faith?” he said. “And what exactly do you want to know about my family?”

“Nate said you’re religious.” I fidgeted with my new earrings.

“Oh, you know me, a regular churchgoer.” Matt scowled. “Nate has a lot to say lately.”

“He said you believe in God.”

“So what if I do?”

“Matt, I’m not attacking you.”

Matt ranged over to the fire and I watched his back. Hmmm, I loved the way his spine disappeared into his low-slung pants.

“What do you want to know about Nate? Nate is Nate. Beautiful home, beautiful wife, beautiful kids. And he’s the only doctor. Our parents would be proud.”

“He seems happy. With the kids and all…”

Matt glanced over his shoulder at me. I dropped my gaze.

“Kids, huh? Is that what you’re driving at?”

“I’m not driving at anything. Chill. God.” I held up my hands and Matt frowned. “You’re being way feistier than this conversation warrants, do you realize that?”

He glared at the fire.

“I don’t remember my parents,” he said.

I knew that was a lie—or I had a hunch it was—but I let Matt keep rambling.

“Seth, there’s no love lost between us.” He waved a hand. “When I went through all my bullshit, you know, drinking and partying and … rehabbing … Seth wanted nothing to do with me. He saw the toll my behavior took on our aunt and uncle. He thought I’d be the death of them. Hell, I was almost the death of myself, but he didn’t seem to give a f**k.”