After Dark (The Night Owl Trilogy #3)(42)

I finished reading and let the feelings pass over me—anger, paranoia, shades of amusement and admiration. And other feelings. Darker feelings. How many secrets were Hannah and I keeping from each other?

I carried my cell to the balcony and smoked half a cigarette.

Then I dialed a number I knew by heart.

She answered with a breathless little gasp. “Matt!”

“Bethany,” I said.





Chapter 19





HANNAH


My goal for the day: not to gnaw off all my nails while waiting to hear from Matt.

Also: Be sort of remotely productive at work.

It was one in the afternoon—Matt could have read my chapter ten times over—and still no word. Shit.

I’d set my alarm for five that morning, specifically to hammer out Chapter 3. Matt dropped a bomb in Chapter 2: exhibitionism, and the existence of some therapeutic journal in which he was writing all the stuff I didn’t know about him. So, I’d followed his lead and dropped a bomb of my own: Katie, the strange woman with confusing claims about Matt.

Claims that were starting to seem more plausible …

I scrubbed my face. Was he freaking out? Did he know Katie? Was he angry with me? And what about my Chapter 1 revelation, that I never wanted to do the pregnancy thing? Matt hadn’t responded to that. His e-mails were breezy and funny. Did he miss it?

I sent him a text.

Are you okay? I’m worried. What did you think of the chapter?

No reply.

I shuffled into Pam’s office, knocking perfunctorily on the frame as I passed.

“Hannah.” She looked up from her computer.

“Matt and I wanted to set up a meeting to discuss Last Light with you. Is there—”

“Oh, he already called about that. We’re—”

“He did?” I glowered. Fucking Matt!

“Well, yes.” Pam returned her attention to the computer. “He wanted a realtor referral. I know several. He mentioned the meeting in passing. We settled on Thursday morning.”

“Great. That’s … all I wanted.” I slouched back to my desk. Awesome. Matt was too something to text or e-mail me, but calm enough to call Pam about a realtor and arrange our meeting. And again, he’d made me look like a dunce in front of her. Ugh.

I forced myself to finish out the workday.

Then I sped back to the condo.

Matt was sitting on the couch, watching a soccer game. He clicked it off as I shut the door, but he didn’t move. I stared at the back of his head.

Why was I suddenly afraid?

“Hey,” I whispered. I crept around the couch.

He took in my work outfit with a glance: a pale pink blouse tucked into a nude peplum skirt and matching peep-toe pumps. “I missed you this morning.”

“Oh … I sorta … snuck out.”

“I noticed.”

“Sorry.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I had a lot on my mind.”

“I’m sure.” He frowned and dragged his fingertips over his knees, contemplating the floor. Then he stood abruptly and disappeared down the hall, returning a minute later with a black spiral notebook. Was it the notebook?

“You asked if I really had a journal,” he said. “For Mike. I do.”

“Oh…” I stared at it.

He stepped closer to me, and closer, until he practically stood on top of me. I felt breathless, that near to him. His particular scent—spicy, clean—his towering height and burning stare … completely unnerved me.

“Here,” he said, offering the notebook.

I plucked at the corner. He didn’t let go. Yikes, this felt familiar. Last night, we’d wrestled with the boxed whip for a good five minutes. I was furious then—he was being pushy—but now? Matt held my gaze, his expression simultaneously hungry and vulnerable.

“Go ahead,” he whispered. He released the notebook and I bumped into the wall, clutching it. “Read it.”

“Now?” I swallowed. “You’re … you’re kind of … intimidating me.”


“Yes.” He pinned my shoulder to the wall and cradled my cheek in his palm, which felt cool. My face must have been on fire. “Read it now, with me, or not at all.”

“Okay. Let me—” I shook my purse off my shoulder. It landed with a loud clunk.

“You’re sweating, little bird.” His dark eyes strafed over me. Oh … God. Something about my unease always got Matt hot and bothered. And what the hell? Something about my unease always got me hot and bothered.

“It’s … hot out.” My chest rose and fell deeply as I struggled to calm my heart.

“Here.” With one hand, he unclasped the top three buttons of my blouse. They sprang open. The cool condo air slipped into my cleavage. Matt’s fingers slipped into my cleavage.

“Matt,” I gasped.

“Read,” he said, “before I change my mind.”

Oh sweet Lord … I fumbled with the journal, my pulse leaping and my mind reeling. First entry: exhibitionism. Matt bit the cup of my bra and I quivered. My eyes skimmed over the page. Desire—hot and damp—gathered between my legs. I want to f*ck her with an audience … reveal her like a possession …