Page 52 of Howl for the Gargoyle

"I know," he answered lightly.

I crossed my arms over my chest, unable to fight my smile as Hannah signed another T-shirt, cheeks warm in the spotty glow of Nightlight's ambience, her gaze flicking to mine once more. She shook her head at me slightly, eyes narrowing, and it took everything in me to remain standing against the wall. I'd grabbed a spot by the hall that led to the four individual bathrooms right before the music had started, and I'd made it through the concert before Hannah had spotted me.

She'd been incredible—the whole band had, to be fair. Watching her sing reminded me of one of our appointments. She was cold at first, reserved, beautiful and haughty, but the longer she'd stood under the spotlight, the more the crowd called and cheered her, the more she unwound, until she was sweaty and howling, eyes glazed, body, mind, and voice locked into the music so completely, she was all energy and sound. I was as riveted at the sight of her singing as I was when we fucked.

"Are you going to report me?" I asked Elias.

"For what? You haven't done anything," he said, shrugging.

I wanted to. I would.

"She didn't accept the cocktail I designed for her."

I turned at the bitter note in his voice, and found him frowning at Hannah. "She's not drinking."

His antenna twitched, and his wings ruffled. "A mocktail, then. She should've said."

I laughed. "Maybe she just wanted water?"

Elias wrinkled his nose. "I'll try again. Quit lurking in the shadows. Khell will think you're mad at him."

Khell was busy trying to convince Sunny to dance with him, grinding against her back in time with the music. Or maybe he was just trying to get her alone. But when I turned to join my friends, I realized Hannah was weaving through the crowd, headed directly for me.

I held my place, and she didn't stop, her eyes widening with meaning, holding mine as she brushed against my shoulder. I glanced at the crowd once more. Natalie was eyeing us, and behind her, deeper in the room but a head taller than everyone else, so was Hannah's guitarist.

I didn't care. I turned and followed Hannah into the dark hallway, grateful for the shadows that thickened around us.

Hannah spun as she reached the end of the hall. "What are you doing here?"

"I can go," I said, aware that my attendance might've crossed a boundary for her. I shouldn't have come. Hannah was the bait Elias had dangled to catch me in a lie, and I’d let it work because I wanted to see her, see her in this new element.

"No!" Hannah hissed, reaching for my arm. Her lips were parted and her cheeks were full of color, and she looked so happy it radiated from her, filling the air. "Did you hear me? I sang," she said, eyes glittering.

"To be honest, I couldn't hear anything but you," I said, not thinking through the confession before it was out.

Her gaze softened and then grew warm, inviting. Short strands of hair were still plastered to her temples, and she’d cooled off since leaving the stage, but I recalled the trickle of sweat that ran down the long line of her chest, and already knew how it would taste on my tongue.

Not that it mattered. I wanted to taste her again.

I caught her by the neck, pulling her into my chest and ducking down. She rose on the balls of her feet, barely an inch, and that was all it took for our mouths to fuse together. My free arm banded around her waist, and her arms fastened around my shoulders, holding me as tight as I held her. She moaned into the kiss, arched her hips into mine. Our bodies were urgent, but our tongues slid languidly against one another as the kiss opened, stroking and teasing, retreating.

I pulled away to check in, but she whispered my name, her eyes shut and head tipped back.

At our appointments, Hannah was my client, but here, we were just two wildly irresponsible people, and I didn't want to question that. I wanted to be inside of her.

I released her neck to grab the handle of the bathroom on our right, grunting as it turned easily and the door open. Light spilled out, and I dragged Hannah in with me before anyone else might appear in the hall.

She was grinning, still hanging onto me by my shoulders, and our mouths crashed back together before the door even shut. We slammed it closed as I pushed her in place. She was wearing dark high-waisted jeans that made her legs look twice as long, her loose, black button-down shirt buttons ignored and hem tucked in so that the collar gaped down her smooth skin to her belly button. Her bra was black lace, visible through the soft opening of the shirt, and even more so when I pushed the fabric aside.

"Are you wound up?" I asked, bending my knees as Hannah's legs spread to make room for me. I rubbed my face into her chest, testing the texture of her bra against my cheek before nudging her shirt even farther open and sucking her nipple through the lace.

"Oh, fuck yes," she cried out, which might've been an answer to my question or just approval of the steady suckling on her tit. "Yes. But—Rafe!"

I reached into her shirt to grip her other breast, lifted one leg with my other hand to wrap it around my back, and looked up at her through my lashes. Her eyelids were heavy, lips parted and damp from the kiss.

"I don't need this," she whispered.

I brushed my thumb over her tight nipple and prepared to pull away, but her hand sank into my hair, and every gliding stroke tugged sweetly on the roots.

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