Last Light(51)

I wanted to jack him off and watch him while I did it, but Matt wanted to be inside me again. My hold over him broke. He dropped his shirt and took my hand. He rose unsteadily.

Without a word, he led me to our bedroom.





Chapter 28


MATT


On Saturday evening, Hannah dressed in a black-and-white skirt suit for the release party. I tied a silk scarf around her neck to hide my love bites. We’d been in bed almost nonstop since my impromptu arrival, emerging only to bathe and eat.

And the sex was different—tinged with violence. Hannah struggled every time, and I f*cked her hard while she begged me to stop. It gave me a terrible thrill.

“Why do you have to go so early?” I pulled her into my arms. “It’s my book you’re celebrating. I should have some say in this.”

I kissed her neck and cupped her ass. She wriggled against my hands. Such a tease.

“Because,” she said with a sigh, “I promised Pam I’d help set up, like I said. Several times.”

“Let me look at your ass.” I turned Hannah around and bit the back of her neck. I tucked her bottom against my groin. “You wouldn’t leave me alone with a hard-on, would you?”

“I might.” She grinned over her shoulder. “Lube’s in the bedside table.”

“You’re a bad bird.”

We fooled around halfheartedly, and then Hannah left. I was instantly miserable.

I wandered the condo, trying to comprehend Hannah’s life apart from me. Nothing looked different. There was her yoga mat, her exercise ball, a few manuscripts from work. The rooms were tidy. I found leftovers from various meals in the fridge.

I checked the wall safe. Everything was in order: the cash, her TracFone, the unit cards.

Hannah’s life went on without me.

I peeked through the blinds at Denver by night. The shops were lit. I saw friends barhopping and heard car horns honking. People rushing to their Saturday evening plans.

And me with nothing to do, dead to everyone but Hannah. And Melanie … my “cab.”

I called her.

“’Sup, Cabin Fever? Hey, can I call you that?”

I sneered. The new nickname was too apropos.

“Checking in,” I said.

“Uh-huh…”

“Mm, can you blame me? You’re alone in a new city, twenty-two, prone to doing very illegal things on the Internet.”

“And you’re bored and lonely,” Mel said.

“What? No.” Yes.

“I know Hannah’s at the release party. You told me, Matt.”

“I’m not bored. I’m home on a Saturday night. I thought you might be bored.”

“Sure.” Mel chuckled. She was silent for a while, and then she clicked her tongue. “I’ll pick you up in a few minutes, okay? I am pretty bored, come to think.”

“I want to be back by eight.” I think Mel knew she was doing me a favor, and I didn’t care. “And don’t meet me out front. I’ll go out back.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” I hung up.

I killed time cleaning Laurence’s hutch, then bundled up in my coat, hat, scarf, and sunglasses, and slipped out of the complex by the back exit. Mel’s Corolla idled at the corner.

I climbed in. “The color of this car, it’s like a neon sign. Ridiculous.” I was trying not to smile. The condo wasn’t home anymore, not without Hannah, and it felt good to escape.

“Whoa, what happened to you?”

“Hm?” I adjusted my sunglasses. After wrestling with Hannah over the last two days, I looked a little worse for wear. She’d inadvertently elbowed my eye, purpling the orbit. A bruise darkened my jaw. Scratches lined my neck and I had hickies and other bruises all over my body. Hannah had a few marks, too, but no black eye, thank God. “Fight club,” I mumbled.

“Tough love.” Mel sighed. “Lucky girl.”

“Drive.”

“Okay, yeesh.” She pulled away from the condo. “Wanna … watch TV? I’ve got HBO at the hotel. I have a deck of cards, too.”

I glanced at Mel as she navigated Denver. She was a good driver, confident on unfamiliar roads. She didn’t make one wrong turn during the two-hour drive from the cabin.

Tonight, she’d straightened her red hair. It was thick and glossy like shampoo commercial hair. She wore a tight puffy vest and a hooded sweater beneath, the hood fur-trimmed. Fur again. She owned a jacket with fur and furry boots.

“You like fur,” I said.

“Profound observations from the late great author. So, the hotel?”

“No. I don’t think we should … be in your hotel room.”

“Oookay. Even though we’re staying at the cabin together?”

“The cabin is different.”

“Am I too tempting, Mr. Sky?” She flipped her hair. I snorted. “I’m kidding, kidding. I’ve seen Hannah. I know I’ve got no chance.”

“I didn’t realize you wanted a chance.”

“Oh, please.” Mel turned the wheel on a whim, taking us closer to the heart of Denver. “You’re attractive, you’re unmarried, you have an actual brain, and you’ve got that whole”—she gestured—“brooding artist thing going on. Do I need to spell it out for you? Nine in ten women would want a chance.”