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.”