Night Owl(14)

The rabbit hopped toward his feet.

"Sorry, I... am I scaring him? Him, he?"

The man's jaw tightened. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. He was staring at a splash of street art like his life depended on it.

Evan hovered on the sidewalk a few feet away, obviously intimidated by the young god and his rabbit.

"He is sooo precious," I crooned, crouching to get closer to the bunny. "Can I pet him? Will he let me?"

The man didn't move. What was his deal? Maybe he was stoned out of his gourd.

I reached toward the rabbit and it flattened itself to the ground.

Finally, the man crouched and collected the frightened animal. He gathered it against his stomach and began to stroke its head and ears. I smiled. When I didn't move, the man's dark eyes flickered over me. He smirked.

He reached for my wrist. I let him guide my hand along the rabbit's body.

"So soft," I whispered. I stared at the man's long fingers covering mine. The alcohol must have been working on me; desire shivered up the skin of my arm. I wanted to lean in and smell his clean scent. I wanted to press my hands to his chest.

I don't know how long I stayed crouched there, the man's hand over mine and the bunny's warm body beneath my palm. The stroking motion relaxed me totally.

The young god, on the other hand, grew more and more tense until I thought he would explode. Only his hand on mine was gentle. I could see the sinewy muscle clenching on his forearm and cording along his beautiful neck.

He frightened me.

I wanted him.

Guiltily, I remembered Matt waiting for me to get home and call. I pulled back just as the man stood. We stumbled apart.

The man hurried up the street, disappearing around the corner. I watched his hot ass go. Even his stride was sexy, prowling and sweeping. Damn.

Dazed, I returned to Evan.

"How was the rabbit whisperer?" he said, throwing a fleshy arm around my waist.

"Evan, eat a dick."

I shoved Evan back and stalked away, fishing for my phone in my purse and halfheartedly trying to hail a cab. I knew I could call Matt, but suddenly the city felt huge and anonymous and the thought of meeting that demanding stranger scared me.

Besides, I was still reeling from whatever had just passed between me and the guy outside the bar. Why did that silent encounter feel so charged? Why wouldn't he speak? Why wouldn't he look at me?

A cab pulled up beside me and I climbed in gratefully.

When I got home, I saw dad had already set up my bed in a room in the basement.

So, I was going to be a genuine basement dweller now. I guess I couldn't complain. The basement was finished and would be cool all summer, not to mention private.

The room itself was bleak and impersonal at the moment.

Tomorrow I would start unpacking my books. Books can fix any room.

I flopped onto the bed and called Matt.

No answer.

I tried again after twenty minutes.

No answer.

I miss you, Matt.

I sent the text and stared at the ceiling. There is no such thing as loneliness, I told myself. A lump formed in my throat.

If there was no such thing as loneliness, what was I feeling?

CHAPTER 7

Matt

Come over tonight. I'll pick you up. I need you.

I looked at the text I had written.

I deleted it.

I wrote it again and deleted it again.

I couldn't think.

I ranged through my apartment stripping off clothes, shoving down my jeans and boxers to free my erection.

"Hannah, god, Hannah," I whispered. I filled the rooms of my apartment with feverish pleas. I gripped my hair and stood aching in the dark kitchen. I braced my arms against the doorframe of my bedroom.

I already knew I was going to see her.

I was going to see her tonight.

And even as I paced and agonized, some part of me remained paralyzed on the lawn across from Lot 49. God only knows what I was doing out there in the dead of night with my rabbit. I thought I had hours to kill before Hannah called.

I had strapped on Laurence's little harness and leash, carried him down to the nearest green space, plopped him into the grass for a bit of exercise—and saw her.

She was dancing.

Through the glass front of Lot 49, she appeared and disappeared in the crowd on the dance floor. Her hands were in the air. Her unmistakable brown curls fanned across her back and a small skirt spun around her hips. Her beautiful face was tilted up, eyes closed. Was that how she looked when she came for me?

Hannah.

I couldn't make myself walk away.

I couldn't make myself look away.

I drank in the sight of her strong, full thighs, her tiny waist and round ass.

What were the odds she would end up in this bar, now, steps from my apartment?

I lost sight of her in the dim building. Hannah in her satin thong, just steps away from me. I needed to feel that garment between my fingers. I needed to touch her intimately. The thought had me shivering in the summer night.

I lapsed into a fantasy, and the next thing I knew, Hannah's kind, familiar voice was addressing me.

I didn't dare speak; she would know my voice.

I hardly dared to look at her. My eyes would scream who I was.

We were so close. Her knees bumped mine. I felt the pulse in her wrist. I saw her chest rising and falling under a loose beaded tank top.