Another crack, and no pain.

“You tease,” I panted.

“You want it,” he growled.

In answer, I pushed down my skirt. It fell around my ankles. Matt didn’t hesitate. Crack went the whip, I rolled my clit up and down, and a burning slice of sensation fell across my ass.

Violent desire, Matt called it in his journal.

Oh, I was so on board with that.

My legs trembled and I fought to stay upright.

“I’m going to come,” I gasped.

I heard the whip slap against the floor.

“Not without me you aren’t.” He moved swiftly, his body pinning mine to the wall, his fingers sliding aside my thong. Something filled me, and it wasn’t … him. My eyes flew open. Fuck, it was the handle of the whip, the rough knob of it deep inside me.

Matt’s mouth captured mine. I groaned and bit his lip. He fucked me with that stiff braided cord—he gave me no choice but to come—and when I did, he took his turn, casting away the whip and entering me, driving us together into bliss.

Chapter 20

MATT

Hannah lay along the floor with her head on my lap.

I sat against the wall, the whip coiled nearby.

Breathless silence.

She was so sweet now, her legs drawn toward her chest and her lovely face pillowed on my thighs. Her bottom glowed with three faint red stripes.

“I wish I could carry you outside, into the evening.” I stroked her hair. “Just like this, in your blouse and panties.”

Her eyes opened, luminous in the dim room.

What strange power she had over me, looking at me with those eyes.

“Let’s buy a home where you can,” she said. I stared at her mouth, her plump lips and small pink tongue. I leaned down and kissed it. She came alive for me, folding her arms around my neck and arching up from the floor.

“Were you a witch in another life?” I pressed my forehead to hers. “Witch bird.”

She giggled and dragged me down. Side by side on the floor, we nuzzled one another. Nothing had changed with the revelation of my journal. I felt a happiness that was half relief.

The other half was Hannah.

I kissed her throat and hooked a leg around her.

“I want to marry you,” I said. Her heart quickened against my chest. Could we actually have this for the rest of our lives?

After some minutes, we stood and stretched. I snagged the whip and grinned, eyeing the handle. “This is going to be fun to clean.”

She swatted my arm.

“You kinky bastard.”

“You said it.” I coiled the whip and tapped it against her bottom. “Go put on something hot. We’ve got dinner reservations.”

“We do?”

“Yeah, at Mizuna. They’re holding a table for us. I told them to expect us around seven. Of course, then you had to go and make me whip you.”

“Ha!” Hannah bounced on her toes. God, she was so fucking adorable.

“Clothes.” I steered her toward the bedroom.

*   *   *

Hannah took her time getting ready.

She paired her nude pumps with a fitted beige and black dress. I dressed quickly—light slacks and a black dress shirt—and watched her apply makeup.

“We match.” She beamed at me in the mirror.

“Mm.” I loomed at her shoulder, observing her dozens of makeup tubes, pallets, and bottles. For a girl who wore little makeup, she sure owned a lot. “How do you keep track of what’s what?” I twisted a tube.

She snatched it and applied the gloss to her cheekbones, making them shine. Mysterious.

“More bird witchery.” She grinned at me.

She let me choose her jewelry.

I found a black lace choker among her things.

“This,” I said, banding it around her neck. A vivid blush came into her cheeks. “And this.” Around her wrist, I clasped the owl charm bracelet I had given her for Christmas.

When we stepped into the empty restaurant, Hannah hesitated. “Is it closed?” The tables were set but barren, varnished wood and overturned glasses gleaming.

I shook my head.

“We wouldn’t be able to talk if…” I shrugged and led her to a table for two. “I know the owner. They just moved a few reservations.” And offered discounts that I would cover.

Hannah laughed and rolled her eyes.

“You are ridiculous.” She unfolded her napkin. “And adorable.”

A single waiter glided out, smiling and gracious, and I ordered for both of us—the lobster mac and cheese to start, a baby-lettuce salad and Chardonnay for Hannah, and for our entrées, the New York strip and roasted duck breast.

“We’ll share. Ever had duck?” I twisted my fork on the tablecloth and stared at Hannah. She kept glancing around and fidgeting.

“Um, no.”

“You’ll like it. All dark meat, even the breast.” I slid my foot forward until my shoe bumped hers. She jumped.

“Sore bottom?” I murmured. “You’re restless on that chair.”

“Matt!”

“What?” I chuckled. “We’re alone.”

“Quite…” She peered around again.

“Is it making you uncomfortable? We can leave.”

“No, no. It’s just … strange for me.”

I reached for her hand. She squeezed my fingers and I smiled, but the smile faded rapidly.

“Next time someone approaches you making claims about me,” I said, “please, tell me.”