“Your inheritance,” I hedged. “How—”
“Not billions.” Matt collected the wrapping paper from my hands. He carried it to the trash can in the kitchen. “Millions. And since I know you’ll ask, my grandfather and his brother made their money opening factories in South America. All kinds of factories—tiles, bottles, energy plants. When a company was doing well, they sold it and moved on to something new. They were brilliant businessmen, worked all their lives, stayed ahead of the trends.”
Matt sounded bored. I cringed as I listened.
“The money’s been passed down. Mine is tied up in IRAs and investments, a little property in Montana, an offshore account. And of course there will be royalties.”
I closed the jewelry box and went to Matt. I hugged him from behind. His skin felt hot, firm and yet smooth. I laid my cheek against his shoulder blade.
“Is it so terrible, that I want to know this stuff about you?”
“No, Hannah.” He turned and tucked my body against his chest. “It’s not. But like this, it feels forced. I don’t want my phony memorial and a bunch of people who don’t even get me to be the reason you want to know me better, you know?” Matt cupped my face and lifted it. He watched me intently. “I want things to be natural between us. Let’s not live like other people. Let’s not be like other couples.”
Matt brushed a fingertip over my lips and I kissed it.
“I’m pretty sure we’re not like other couples,” I said.
He chuckled and a weight slid off my shoulders. Whew. Matt’s bad moods were steep and unpredictable, but they passed quickly.
We went back to bed and chatted about nothing serious. We fought sleep as long as we could, but around two we drifted off, Matt still mumbling as he slipped into dreams.
Chapter 20
MATT
I woke to the smell of coffee.
It’s Saturday. The realization hit me in the gut. My only whole day with Hannah.
I splashed water on my face and brushed my teeth, and then I went to find her.
She sat on the kitchen counter with her iPad on her thigh. She wore a black lace baby doll and nothing else. When she saw me, she smiled and slid off the counter.
“Coffee?”
“Hm, maybe.” I nuzzled my nose into her hair. “Maybe you, then coffee.”
Hannah hugged me tight. I pinned her body against mine and ran my fingers over her ass, which her attire did nothing to hide.
“What time is it?” I murmured.
“Nine. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m usually up earlier.” I gazed down the back of Hannah’s body, trying to get a look at her legs.
“I think I wore you out last night. Do you want to write? I can entertain myself.”
“You seriously think I’d do that—with you here?” I drew back.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to mess with your … writing routine.”
I glanced in the direction of my desk. Before Hannah arrived, I’d stowed my notebook in the drawer and unplugged my laptop. I wanted no distractions. I also didn’t want to discuss my new story, because my new story was still our story. A continuation. A continued fixation with Hannah, or a new chapter in my obsession.
“What did you think of Night Owl, anyway?” I set her down on the counter and nudged my hips between her knees. She hooked her legs around my waist. “I mean, apart from the crazy online leak. What do you think of the book itself?”
Hannah frowned.
“Come on,” I said. I stroked her neck. “Let’s see those literary knives. I hope Pam’s rubbing off on you a little.”
“All right.” Hannah licked her lips. “I’ll be Hannah the almost literary agent and not Hannah your lover, is that what you want?”
“Yes, that’s what I want. You know I think of you as an equal.”
A shock of surprise passed over Hannah’s face. I frowned at that.
“Well. Okay. Night Owl.” She drew circles on my chest as she thought. “It’s different, of course, from your other stuff. So different. Even the language, the style.”