“Of course. There’s a slice of orange in there.”
She blinked and fished the small Tupperware out of the cooler pack. I knew she liked orange in her Blue Moon. I watched her squeeze the juice into the bottle, then pop in the rind.
A blush crept into her cheeks.
“You thought of everything,” she whispered.
“Oh, I doubt that.” I chuckled and took another bite. Warm wind rolled up the hill, fanning over us. My head cleared as my lust cooled.
“Is this … the bread you bought for Chrissy?”
“Mm. We might as well get some use out of it.”
“We could still give it to her.”
“No.” I shook my head. “That’s an unequivocal no, Hannah. If she’s getting help from Seth, we’re not helping her.”
“Well, I’m not okay with that.” Hannah lowered her sandwich and turned to face me. I took a deep breath. This, after all, was what I’d actually intended to do today. Talk.
“And I’m not okay with Seth being in her life. She’s in your life. You’re in my life. If he’s in her life, he’s…” My appetite disappeared. I tossed the corner of my sandwich to a squirrel. “Then he’s in our life. In your life. I won’t have that.”
Hannah stared at me as if I’d grown two heads.
“Say something,” I said.
“S-sorry, it’s just—it’s nice to—” She shoved the remainder of her sandwich in her mouth, her cheeks puffing out. “Nice to talk.”
I frowned and cocked my head. Did we not talk enough?
“Um, the thing is … Chrissy is in my life,” she said. “She’ll be in my life no matter what. She needs me now, and I don’t really want Seth in her life either, but I’m not going to try to control her. I’m just going to help her.”
“Do I have any fucking say in the matter?”
“Of course you have a say, Matt.” She touched my cheek. Her hand grazed the faint trace of my cut. “I won’t do anything without consulting you.”
“I don’t want you seeing him.” My jaw clenched. Cold anger and shame gusted through me. “He touched you…”
“Oh, love.” Hannah climbed swiftly onto my lap and wrapped herself around me. I shivered—with rage. She stroked my hair and neck and whispered sweet, soothing nothings into my ear. “It’s okay. Never again. I love you.”
I clung to her.
God, pain is sharp. Even old pain. Past pain. Or maybe that’s the worst kind, because it stabs unexpectedly into our present happiness.
“It’s my fault he came into your life in the first place. He’s my brother. You met him at my idiotic memorial. I should never have—”
She touched my lips.
“No ‘what-if’s,” she said. “This is our reality, remember?”
We shared a soft, slow kiss, and I broke it before I lost myself.
“About last night.” I tucked Hannah’s head under my chin. It was easier to address the mountains. “I lost my temper. I’m sorry. I should have told you I bought food for Chrissy and planned to give her a check. Bird, I’m not used to this … unified-front, joint-decision thing. I’ve told you my money is yours and I meant it. Bear with me. I’m still getting used to all this.”
Her breath on my neck distracted me badly.
Her small hands roamed my torso.
“Okay,” she said.
Okay? Too easy …
I mentally revisited my “FIX SHIT” list. Talk about things. Money: check. Chrissy: check. Therapy: fucking hell …
In my ideal vision of this conversation, I told Hannah everything. I showed her my Black Book of Aberrant Desires. We discussed the things I’d discussed with Mike. She was amenable, excited, unafraid. And then we had hot, sadistic sex all night.
In reality …
This peaceful picnic blanket seemed like no place for talk of pain and shame. Hannah’s mood had done a one-eighty. She kissed me and I tasted beer and citrus.
“Hannah, is—” I gasped. She straddled my lap and began to grind on me, rolling the apex of her legs along my dick.
“Is what?” She threw back her head, her curls sliding off her shoulders. Instinctively, I tugged on them, eliciting a moan.
“Is there … anything else you want to talk about?”
I gazed down, mesmerized by the motion of her body on mine. My dick rose readily.
“Another time,” she whispered.
Fuck, yes. Another time …
I groaned and braced my hands on the blanket behind me, letting Hannah do her thing. My lust sprang back to life. I closed my eyes and moved my hips, making damn sure she felt my hardness, and when Hannah scampered up to undo her pants and slide down her thong, I flicked open my pants and freed my cock.
She resettled on me, gripping my shoulders for leverage. Skin to skin. Now, when she ground her body on my lap, the lips of her sex spread desire up and down my cock. But she didn’t slide onto it. She pinned it to my belly, an aching hardness, damp at the tip, and glided over it until she was soaked.
“This is fucking good,” I hissed.
I tried to angle my hips so that I pierced her, but no dice.
“I know you need it,” she whispered in my ear. “You’ve been staring at me all morning. At these…”
My eyes slipped open.
Hannah had yanked up her sports bra and tank. Her breasts hung down, full and bare.
“Ah, fuck. Fuck yeah.” They spilled into my hands. As I squeezed them, Hannah changed her motion, tilting her pelvis so that her clit rubbed up and down my dick. I wanted her. To be in her. I wanted to be on top of her, taking her. But this? Watching her pleasure herself on my body? This was so fucking hot.
“You—are you”—I rolled her nipples to stiff peaks—“gonna make yourself…”
“Yes,” she breathed. She moved faster, harder, and her hand darted between us. She positioned my shaft and slammed onto it.
“Fuck! Hah … babe.” That tight, sudden grip hurt. And then it felt better. And better. I sank onto my back and arched. “God, ride me.”
Hannah bounced on me once, twice, and began to quake.