circled the table, seeming oblivious to her sudden quiet. Or maybe just waiting for a reaction.
“So…you went for something totally opposite, huh?”
His surprise had her grinning. She shrugged. “Seemed to fit.” The puzzle-piece thing again.
He stepped back to allow her room for her turn. “Something like that,” he finally told her. Reluctantly—very reluctantly. Something about the set of his shoulders, maybe. Hank hid a lot, but being a sub had taught her to watch for subtle cues of pleasure or disappointment. She paid attention to things most people ignored, which was how she knew he wouldn’t welcome questions. She understood that feeling too, and let it lie.
Hank didn’t seem to need to fill the silence either, not until she’d cleared the table. “So…no one significant back in the big city?”
The words were casual, but his eyes, when she met them, burned with intensity. “I—”
She cut off her answer, but as the silence dragged on, Hank didn’t relent. His startling eyes bored into hers, commanding her, demanding her answer, her compliance. The wall of her resistance shook to its very foundation.
“No,” she finally admitted. “No one.” The truth, or close enough.
Satisfaction glimmered in the gaze trapping hers. “Good.”
She was turning that word over, examining the tone with a fine-tooth comb, when a yawn sneaked up on her. Hank’s snort of amusement twisted the yawn into a weird openmouthed smiling thing she couldn’t quite control. He chuckled as he gathered their pool cues. “Someone needs to get in bed.”
“Yeah, well, I was up before dawn.”
“Yeah, well,” he shot back playfully, “being onstage till two a.m. tends to make being a night owl a necessity.”
Or not needing much sleep. He was often up when she left for work or came in the market soon after to steal bear claws. The man’s sweet tooth was a thing of legend. “Excuses, excuses.”
Hank stuck his tongue out at her but ruined the gesture by motioning her forward. “Come on; I’ll follow you home.”
She retrieved her purse from the chair near the box holding the cues, trying hard to push thoughts of Hank and home and bed and dear God, could she not just stop thinking about sex? away. The three tries it took to snag her keys from the middle pocket with shaking fingers told her she was as ineffective at blocking sexual thoughts as she was at ignoring Hank’s sex appeal. It was embarrassingly like being in high school all over again, anticipating a good-night kiss at the door.
“Right.” She had to be blushing—her skin was hot, and not in a too-much-alcohol way. “Uh, let’s go then.”
“Okay.”
He waited for her to precede him, which she finally made herself do. “Okay.”
Even walking ahead of him tangled her nerves in knots. Was he staring at her butt? She’d worn her favorite pair of butter-soft, skintight jeans that molded to her every curve, and a white dress shirt tied at her waist. He could see anything he wanted to see. If he wanted to see it. Did he?
Lord. Yes, Sage, you are back in high school again, or at least you’re acting like it.
The drive from Killian’s to the market took less than five minutes. In LA she’d have walked it, but not in this rural, not to mention unfamiliar, area. She was grateful Hank had security lights around the building so she didn’t worry about going to and from the upstairs apartment without daylight. She really needed to be looking for somewhere else to stay; she just hadn’t had time.
Maybe that was why Hank hadn’t brought home any female company since his return—because he had a roomie horning in on his territory. The thought caused her stomach to take a sudden trip south.
He was waiting as she locked her car and moved toward the staircase. Gaze on her own feet and not his delectable ass, she listened to him climb the stairs ahead of her. “Hank, I—”
When she didn’t continue, he paused. A quick glance up caught him
“So…you went for something totally opposite, huh?”
His surprise had her grinning. She shrugged. “Seemed to fit.” The puzzle-piece thing again.
He stepped back to allow her room for her turn. “Something like that,” he finally told her. Reluctantly—very reluctantly. Something about the set of his shoulders, maybe. Hank hid a lot, but being a sub had taught her to watch for subtle cues of pleasure or disappointment. She paid attention to things most people ignored, which was how she knew he wouldn’t welcome questions. She understood that feeling too, and let it lie.
Hank didn’t seem to need to fill the silence either, not until she’d cleared the table. “So…no one significant back in the big city?”
The words were casual, but his eyes, when she met them, burned with intensity. “I—”
She cut off her answer, but as the silence dragged on, Hank didn’t relent. His startling eyes bored into hers, commanding her, demanding her answer, her compliance. The wall of her resistance shook to its very foundation.
“No,” she finally admitted. “No one.” The truth, or close enough.
Satisfaction glimmered in the gaze trapping hers. “Good.”
She was turning that word over, examining the tone with a fine-tooth comb, when a yawn sneaked up on her. Hank’s snort of amusement twisted the yawn into a weird openmouthed smiling thing she couldn’t quite control. He chuckled as he gathered their pool cues. “Someone needs to get in bed.”
“Yeah, well, I was up before dawn.”
“Yeah, well,” he shot back playfully, “being onstage till two a.m. tends to make being a night owl a necessity.”
Or not needing much sleep. He was often up when she left for work or came in the market soon after to steal bear claws. The man’s sweet tooth was a thing of legend. “Excuses, excuses.”
Hank stuck his tongue out at her but ruined the gesture by motioning her forward. “Come on; I’ll follow you home.”
She retrieved her purse from the chair near the box holding the cues, trying hard to push thoughts of Hank and home and bed and dear God, could she not just stop thinking about sex? away. The three tries it took to snag her keys from the middle pocket with shaking fingers told her she was as ineffective at blocking sexual thoughts as she was at ignoring Hank’s sex appeal. It was embarrassingly like being in high school all over again, anticipating a good-night kiss at the door.
“Right.” She had to be blushing—her skin was hot, and not in a too-much-alcohol way. “Uh, let’s go then.”
“Okay.”
He waited for her to precede him, which she finally made herself do. “Okay.”
Even walking ahead of him tangled her nerves in knots. Was he staring at her butt? She’d worn her favorite pair of butter-soft, skintight jeans that molded to her every curve, and a white dress shirt tied at her waist. He could see anything he wanted to see. If he wanted to see it. Did he?
Lord. Yes, Sage, you are back in high school again, or at least you’re acting like it.
The drive from Killian’s to the market took less than five minutes. In LA she’d have walked it, but not in this rural, not to mention unfamiliar, area. She was grateful Hank had security lights around the building so she didn’t worry about going to and from the upstairs apartment without daylight. She really needed to be looking for somewhere else to stay; she just hadn’t had time.
Maybe that was why Hank hadn’t brought home any female company since his return—because he had a roomie horning in on his territory. The thought caused her stomach to take a sudden trip south.
He was waiting as she locked her car and moved toward the staircase. Gaze on her own feet and not his delectable ass, she listened to him climb the stairs ahead of her. “Hank, I—”
When she didn’t continue, he paused. A quick glance up caught him
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