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Me: He’s not a pro, from what I can tell, so maybe we’ll get lucky, and he’ll use public Wi-Fi or unsecured Bluetooth. Do whatever it takes, though. This one’s top priority.
Demon Spawn: Got it. I’ll get on it right away.
Me: Thanks. Also, while you’re driving around, I’ve got another project for you. I’ll pay you to do it in every major city you drive through.
I send him the information, and he asks my timing on both projects.
Me: ASAP on finding and breaching him. No timing on the second thing. Just keep at it in every new city until I tell you to stop. I’ve got no upward limit on my budget. I’ll pay you each and every time, no questions asked.
Demon Spawn: Damn, I feel like I’ve won the lottery. Thanks! I’ll be in touch.
I close my laptop and head into the bathroom, where I hop into the shower in anticipation of my date with Hannah. As hot water pelts me, I press my palms against the tile wall and consciously try to force the primal rage coursing through me. I’m not a violent man, by nature. But thinking about this fucker, and what he did to Hannah, what he said to her, Jesus Christ, it all makes me want to commit a grisly murder.
It takes a while, but after a bit, I’m able to calm myself down and feel like myself again. I get out of the shower, shave, and wrangle my unruly hair. I dress in one of the snappy new outfits I bought—with Josh’s help via FaceTime—for my big week in Seattle. And, finally, after checking my visage in the full-length mirror and deciding this is as good as it gets, I grab the bouquet of flowers I bought at the airport, send Hannah a text regarding my ETA, and stride out the door with a spring in my step and a massive smile of anticipation on my face.
10
HENN
Hello, wife.
When I see Hannah’s gorgeous face in her doorframe—when I take in her dazzling smile and big blue eyes behind thick-framed glasses—those are the words my brain supplies. I thought I remembered the power of Hannah’s magnetism, the electricity I felt in her presence. I thought I’d be ready to pick up where we left off by the end of our time together in Vegas. And yet, here I am at her doorstep in Seattle feeling every bit as tongue-tied and awestruck as I did when Hannah first entered that hotel suite with Kat. My flabber is once again firmly gasted. My gob, soundly pummeled.
“Henny!” Hannah shrieks, before launching herself toward me like a missile.
Reflexively, I open my arms to receive Hannah’s hurtling frame, and just like that, our bodies crash and cleave together like they were designed to do it. As Hannah presses her body into mine, I nuzzle my nose into her dark hair and inhale the scent of her shampoo. “All’s right in the world,” I murmur. Or at least, that’s what I’ve meant to say. Who knows what garbled syllables actually came out of my mouth.
“It sure is,” Hannah whispers back, proving, yet again, she speaks fluent Nervous Henn better than anyone I’ve ever met. “Oh, Henny,” she says, “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” I manage to say.
There’s an intoxicating scent emanating from the crook of Hannah’s neck. A touch of perfume? I follow the aroma and softly kiss the epicenter of its source, and the effect on Hannah is immediate and plain. In fact, the moment my lips make contact with Hannah’s flesh, she wobbles in my arms and lets out a soft exhale of pleasure that sends tingles skating across my skin and straight into my dick. Feeling emboldened, I trail several soft, slow kisses up the full length of her neck, all the way to her cheek, and then to her ear, which is where I whisper, “You’re a fucking knockout.”
In response, Hannah grabs my cheeks with both hands and plants a kiss on my lips that causes my tingling dick to thicken. Our kiss is sheer bliss, the same way it was in Vegas. Even better, actually, now that we’ve had so long to anticipate and yearn.
“I’ve been dreaming of getting another amazing kiss from Peter the Great,” Hannah says softly. “Wowzers.”
“Speaking of wowzers . . .” I step back and look Hannah up and down. “There’s no Superglue in the world that could keep my eyes in their sockets when you’re wearing that dress. Get the crash cart for me. Stat.”
Hannah bats her eyelashes. “I’m glad you like it. I saw it in a window during my lunch break the other day and couldn’t resist.”
“Lucky for me you didn’t. Look what you’re doing to me, woman.” I motion like I’m going to point at my crotch, but unexpectedly flex my hand, instead, and she bursts into laughter.
