“I’m sorry.” I clung to his shirt. I desperately wanted to know how Matt had found out—Seth got Chrissy pregnant, the unspoken bombshell—and what happened in New York, and what Seth looked like right now, but those questions could wait.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said. “This new honesty thing goes both ways.”
“I was afraid. Look at you. I knew what would happen.”
He gave me a wry look. I winced at the sight of his injury.
“And did you stop it from happening, little bird?”
“No,” I mumbled.
He tilted up my chin. I swallowed and flushed like a guilty child.
“It would have been better to hear it from you.” He held me awhile longer, and I waited for him to tell me how he did hear it, and finally he said, “I’m tired. We’ll talk about it later. I need to—” He frowned, thumbing a smudge of his blood from my brow. He started to unbutton his shirt. I brushed away his hands.
“Let me.”
He glared, but he let me undo his shirt and lead him to the bathroom, where I cleaned the gash on his cheekbone. New blood dampened the washcloth.
“Crazy boy,” I whispered. I kissed his knuckles. They were red.
“Your crazy boy.” His strong hands enfolded mine. We stood like that for I don’t know how long, touching one another tenderly, a counterpoint to violence I could only imagine. If I thought about Seth, my mind flashed over images of a body strewn across the floor. Blood. Stillness. So I didn’t think about him.
My fiancé wasn’t violent by nature … right?
He kissed my ring finger.
“You still want to marry me?” he said, half-smiling and half-serious.
“Always.”
He took a quick shower and I changed into one of his T-shirts, which was voluminous on me. I removed my new pearl earrings but kept on the necklace. I felt pretty with those heavy spheres resting against my throat.
Mrs. Hannah Sky … I lay on our bed and mouthed the words.
Our engagement should be a magical time. Would be a magical time. I refused to let Seth or my sister’s news overshadow our happiness. Now that Matt knew everything, we could handle the situation together.
He strolled into the bedroom, a towel banded around his waist. I licked my lips and sat up. Damn … that body.
“I like your shirt, bird.”
I plucked at his shirt and smiled shyly. Matt’s eyes were dark, his expression unreadable. Serious-discussion time.
“Matt, I—”
He silenced me with a gesture.
He sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned. I crawled to him, suddenly hyperaware of my naked body beneath his T-shirt. The way Matt looked at me told me he was aware, too. His gaze lingered on my nipples, which stood stiff against the thin cotton.
“I bought you this,” he said. “We’ll use it now.”
My gaze dropped to his hands. My mouth formed a small, speechless O.
Matt held a metal plug—large, teardrop-shaped—with a sapphire gem in the stopper. He tipped it into my hand. It was heavy and cold. Intimidating, yet pretty.
Okay … he wanted sex. Now. After whatever had happened in the city. And he wanted to put a plug in my ass. I returned the toy to his hands.
“Chrissy is pregnant. Seth is the father.” He spoke calmly. “And you’ve known that, haven’t you, Hannah?”
I nodded, flushing. What the hell was this? Sexy time, or serious-talk time?
“I want to punish you,” he said.
“Punish me?” I spluttered.
“Mm. Bend over my lap.” He patted his thighs. When I hesitated, he cupped the back of my neck and guided me down.
I spread my arms across the sheets and lay there quivering. He brushed the T-shirt off my bottom. I tensed, expecting pain, but he only stroked my skin lovingly.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured.
Something cold and blunt touched my sex—the plug—and he dipped it into me, then drew it out, in again, out again. I groaned.
“Lubricating it,” he explained. “You’re very wet.”