Hannah’s shoulders fell and she wiped her eyes quickly.

“Fine,” she said. “Later, then. We’ll … handle it later. It’s just, I don’t live in a cabin in the woods, Matt.” She gestured around the cabin. “I can’t not think about this, okay? I have … Nate calling me, and I’ll have Shapiro hounding me. I live in the real world.”

I crossed the cabin and returned to Hannah. I folded her into a hug. If she doubted me, or if she suspected something was up with Night Owl and Mel’s call, I would have felt it. She didn’t. She melted against me with a sigh.

“Let’s not live in the real world.” I swayed with Hannah in my arms.

She gave a defeated laugh.

“Disappear with me,” I persisted. “It can be done. I don’t live in the real world.”

“I know you don’t.” She kissed my collarbone. “I’ve always known that. But I do, and I like it. I love my family, my job…”

“Mm, I know. It’s a nice thought, though, isn’t it? The two of us on the run. Sort of daring and romantic…” I smiled and sighed and let it go. I knew better than to push Hannah now. On the inside, though, I was exultant. The book was complicating her life. She called it embarrassing, said Shapiro was hounding her. To me, that meant she was one step farther from Denver and one step closer to us. I tapped her nose. “So you write, do you?”

“You know I do.”

“And what do you write, little bird?”

“Well.” She fidgeted. “There was … that story with you.”

“What, Lana and Cal? Oh, yes, the stuff of Pulitzers.”

Hannah grinned. “Uh-huh, super highbrow. But, no, I mean … I write.”

I tilted my head and waited for her to say more, but she only smiled at me. Mm … beautiful Hannah with her little secrets. Fair enough.

“It’s better that I don’t know,” I said after a while. “As long as it’s not a tell-all memoir about me, hm? Suddenly you’ll be auctioning off my e-mails.”

We returned to the bedroom with our arms around one another. A small part of me refused to relax, and it pricked at me as we dressed and chatted.

Really, how could I be so stupid? I thought removing Night Owl from the Net would solve all our problems, but it only made more.

That morning, Hannah and I went for a walk in the woods. I showed her where I jogged and told her about the owls I sometimes heard at night. I displayed my giant pile of firewood. “Impressive.” She giggled. She was all levity again, and I found myself smiling as I watched her.

We attempted to build a snowman in front of the cabin, but the powder wouldn’t hold. Hannah flung snow at me and I tackled her soundly.

When we got back inside, Hannah showed me a pair of long underwear and told the story of her anxiety-fueled packing. We cackled.

“I’ll wear it sometime,” I said, “and take a few hot pics for you.”

She made tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, and I gave her a glass of white wine. We settled down to watch Luhrmann’s new version of The Great Gatsby.

I watched Hannah more than I watched the screen. It was pure pleasure, to see the nuances of emotion playing over her face.

I refilled her glass and she frowned at me.

“Matt, are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Mm.” I wedged the cork in. “Drunk on cheap wine so I can have my way with you.”

“It’s not that bad.” She sipped her wine and squinted. “But I … don’t want to be all tipsy and silly while you’re sober. I feel bad.”

I leaned in to kiss Hannah’s neck. I felt her pulse against my tongue. “I think you’ve seen enough of me drunk in a cabin for one lifetime, Hannah. Besides…” I set the bottle on the coffee table, “my tastes are way too refined for this shit.”

Hannah huffed and smacked my arm.

I loved Hannah “all tipsy and silly,” with her ready blushes and laughter. I knew that only I saw that side of her. When it came to work, she was professional and brisk. In social settings, she was friendly and polite, but finally reserved. She bloomed for me.

And I did have my way with Hannah that afternoon. When the movie ended, I took her out onto the deck and made her hold the rail while I slid a hand into her pants. I exposed her to the cold bit by bit, lifting her sweater and unclasping her bra, peeling down her pants and thong. I spanked her until her moans rang through the forest.

When I was ready, I made her tell me how she wanted it—hard and fast or sweet and slow. Hard and fast, she said. A good answer.

Chapter 23

HANNAH

Sunday arrived with the unsettling feeling of departure. I woke alone and shuffled into the main room, where I found Matt seated at his desk. The set of his shoulders—just that—told me we were going to have an argument.

He didn’t turn.

As I was fixing my coffee, he said, “I’m not happy about this.”

I frowned over at him. God, I couldn’t get used to seeing that silky black hair where I expected dirty blond. I wondered how long he’d been awake. He wore a pale long-sleeved shirt and black fleece pants, and even those casual clothes fit him so elegantly. He must have looked like that when he was alone, relaxing at his desk, writing. Without me.

Matt turned and caught me staring.

“What? About what?” I said.

“You leaving. I’m not happy about it.”

He rose and began to prowl through the cabin, stopping at windows to study the landscape. I watched him again, and I smiled. He couldn’t be happy with a weekend. He was angry all the time—in his passion, in his contentment—as if he needed anger to survive.

“Matt, I’m not happy about it either.”

“Then call Pam and take a sick day.”

“No.” I blew steam off my coffee. “I’m sorry, but I won’t do that.”

“Why? Why not?”

“Don’t be childish, Matt. It’s my job, it’s my dream job, and you of all people should know that Pam can smell a lie for miles.”

Matt glared a challenge at me from across the room. I met his gaze and shook my head. In bed, he could boss me around all night—and all day, for that matter—but not outside of it.

“Besides”—I swirled the spoon in my mug—“I’ll drive up next weekend.”

“Don’t you want to spend another day with me?” Having failed with anger, Matt shifted into a far more persuasive mode: Mopey Matt. He flopped onto the couch and snatched a pillow, which he began to pick at and examine. When I said nothing, he set aside the pillow and went for Laurence, opening the rabbit’s cage and leaning in to talk quietly to him.

Oh, Lord. He was like an outsized nine-year-old but with a man’s guile. I grinned down at my coffee. To laugh at him now would be a mistake.

“Baby, of course I want to spend another day with you. I want to spend every day with you, but we can’t, and you know that. You wanted this…”

My last words hung between us. Matt’s hand stilled on Laurence’s head, then resumed down the rabbit’s back. He closed the cage and stood.

“I wanted my life back,” he said.

“Your life minus me.”

“I didn’t want this.”

Matt stormed out of the room. The bedroom door slammed.

“Oh, for f**k’s sake,” I huffed.

I let Matt cool his heels in the bedroom. Whatever. If he wanted to fight, I had plenty of ammo. After all, I was the one taking heat over Night Owl. I was the one acting out our charade. I gained nothing from his absence except his absence, which seriously sucked.

I never got to go to dinner with my boyfriend anymore … never got to walk down the street holding his hand … all week I slept alone in our king-size bed. The hell with him. I was the one sacrificing. He got his happy anonymous little life, and he just wanted more, more, more.

I sneered and dropped onto the couch.

I finished my coffee and had another cup. I played Candy Crush on my phone. I even stood on the deck awhile, enjoying the crystalline silence. I wanted to wait Matt out. He owed me an apology. But he didn’t appear, and I heard no sound from the bedroom.

After an hour and a half, I knocked lightly on the door.

Nothing.

“Matt?”

Silence.

“Okay, I’m coming in, you big baby,” I said.

I slipped into the room.

My suitcase lay open on the bed, and it was empty. Matt lounged against the windowsill smoking. Gradually, I noticed my clothes and toiletries in various places around the room.

There was my nightgown, still neatly folded, sitting on the bedside table. And there were my boots poking out from under the bed.

“Yes,” Matt said. “I put all your things around here.” He gestured to the room without looking at me. “And in the bathroom, too. And I won’t help you find them, so good luck.”

I fought to keep a straight face.

Finally, he glanced at me. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

“Matt…” I crept over to him and nuzzled his shoulder. “You’re crazy.”

“Mm.” He blew smoke out the open window.

“And you’re adorable.”

“Handsome,” he mumbled. His stubborn expression faltered.

“Okay, handsome.” I laughed. I plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag. Matt blinked at me.

“Are you smoking now?”

“Nope.” I smiled and crushed out the cigarette. “And neither are you.”

* * *

I left the cabin around the same time I’d arrived on Friday, when the day’s last light stained the snow orange. Matt loved that time of day. He loved the sadness of it.

I knew he wouldn’t want to say good-bye, so after we got my stuff and Laurence’s cage into the car, we sat up front and talked about nothing. I wore my new owl earrings. Matt smiled and batted one with a finger.

“Let’s go,” he said. “I’ll ride to the end of the road with you.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll walk back. It’s not far.”

I pulled out of the driveway and onto the darkening road. Flurries swirled through the air.

Matt was silent, staring ahead and running a hand over my thigh. Through the denim of my jeans, his fingertips set my leg on fire.

I stopped at the bottom of the hill. To our right and left, the country lane was barren.

I turned off my high beams and the car idled in the cold.

A lump of emotion formed in my throat.

“Hey, come here.” Matt pulled me over the console and kissed me. I sighed against his mouth. God, I already missed him so much.

I stroked his handsome face as we kissed and I kneaded the back of his neck. Our kiss grew hungry, and Matt tugged at my ribs to bring my body closer to his. The scent of his cologne filled my nostrils. His strong back shifted under my palms.

“Hannah…” He squeezed my breast through my coat.

I gasped and dug my fingers into his shoulders.

He stilled, breathing raggedly against my cheek.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “It’s okay.” I touched his wrist and then his fingers. I fitted his hand around my breast and he groaned.

“Let me—” Matt’s hand slid down my body. He rubbed the denim seam covering my sex. “Let me just … touch it, Hannah … let me put my mouth on it. Please…”

He didn’t have to ask me twice. Together we fumbled with my zipper. I jerked my jeans and thong down my legs, worming around on the seat. I kicked off my boots. I spread my bare legs and gazed over at Matt, my chest heaving.

Damn … he looked so f**king good, serious as hell and hungry. And even if the roads were vacant for miles, sitting bottomless in my car felt deliciously illicit.

Matt pushed my legs open wider and leaned down to my sex, his beautiful body stretched over my lap. I curled my fingers in his hair. Oh, I loved this, and Matt loved it, too. He trembled like a starved animal every time he went down on me.

“I just … want to taste it,” he said, his breath washing over my skin.

Matt didn’t tease me like usual. He simply kissed my pu**y, hard. His fingers gripped my thighs and his tongue slid into my sex. We moaned together, me into the silence of the car and Matt against my hot, wet skin.

“Matt, God … oh, God…”

His kiss was long and deep. His lips and tongue worked against my pu**y; his smooth jaw caressed my thighs. Sometimes he bit down, pulling on my cl*t or the folds of my sex. “Good,” he whispered, licking me as I got wetter.

I tugged his hair.

With Matt, I never faked it. Matt knew what he was doing. He began to work on my clit, pushing up its soft hood and sucking at the pearl of nerves. He licked it rhythmically and my insides tightened. I pressed his mouth closer to my cunt. He moaned. Hmmm, he liked that …

But of course he liked it. He loved my pleasure, and my need turned him on.

I arched against the seat and raked a hand down his back. I bunched up his coat and shirt and rubbed the skin beneath. Now that it came to good-bye, I wanted him more than ever. This skin, this back, these slim h*ps and strong flanks … I clasped them hungrily, panting as my pleasure spiraled higher.

“L-let’s f**k,” I gasped. “Fuck me…”

But I knew damn well there wasn’t room in my little car.

As I neared cl**ax, I began to buck against Matt’s mouth, grinding my cl*t on his tongue. He slid several fingers into me. Over and over he stroked my G-spot. My legs trembled. I panted and writhed. I held back as long as I could, wanting Matt and my pleasure forever, and I screamed his name when he made me come.