Page 55 of Howl for the Gargoyle

Hannah's fingers slipped under my shirt, grazing a line across my back. Her head was high as we walked down the hall together, but no matter how casual she looked, there was only one conclusion anyone could make if they looked at us. I brushed the back of her hand and turned, heading for the door without another word.

Six days.

CHAPTER 20

Hannah

I smoothed my hands over my skirt as the car bumped down the lane in the MSA woods, headlights twisting and flashing around tree trunks in the dark. The driver seemed to inch closer to our destination, and I wondered briefly if I could throw myself out of the backseat and run there faster. Another part of me considered asking him to slow down, because I wasn't quite ready to see Rafe again yet.

The weight of him on my back. The crack in the marble countertop. His breath, cool in my hair. The thick cock filling and stroking inside of me.

Six days had taken six years or six minutes. Just a few aimless days of being horny at home, where nothing satisfied my itch but replaying memories, and a few good rehearsals with the band. They dragged by until suddenly, they were gone and I had only one day of waiting left. Just eight hours to idle through before taking the train to the suburbs, arriving too early at MSA, and sitting in a lobby until a car was ready to drive me to the cottage in the woods.

Until finally, finally, the guest service car parked, headlights golden through gauzy curtains.

"Enjoy," the driver said, mild and neutral.

My hands were sweaty and my legs were numb, and I stared out of the backseat passenger-side window for either a moment or an hour. Time was all sideways and backwards since…

I'd only meant to tease Rafe for coming to the little show at Nightlight, maybe tell him how hard it was to remember my lyrics while he was undressing me with his eyes from the corner of the room. And then he'd kissed me, and it had been reflexive and perfect and exactly what I'd needed—the outlet for the bright, electric buzz running through my veins.

The driver's throat cleared, and I jumped out of the car, making it three steps away before I remembered my bag and had to fling myself back to the door before he pulled away.

Wake up, calm down.

The bag and its contents—what the hell was I thinking when I'd packed?—thumped against my side, adding to my nerves. The air was cold, a bitter reminder that I'd dressed in thin silk and a long coat, no protection at all from the wind coming off the lake. It cut through my skirt, biting between my legs, turning icy where I was slick, a somewhat cruel proof of my arousal.

I opened the door to the cottage, and the air was heady with spice and garlic and onion, something warm and yeasty in the background. I was immediately warm, immediately relaxed, immediately wanting.

I dropped my bag and hurried for the kitchen, pausing in surprise to find it empty. There was a pot steaming on the stove, a loaf of bread on the table. No gargoyle.

A shadow loomed on the wall, and I smiled as firm arms wrapped around my waist and a cool chest pressed close.

"Hungry?"

"Not yet," I said, even though my mouth was watering.

Rafe's hands slid up, sliding over my breasts, and I leaned forward as he pulled my coat off my shoulders. "Bath?"

It was probably already started, also steaming, the bathroom all glittering with candles and scented with rose petals in the water.

I shook my head. "I want you to put me on the bed and eat me out until I beg for mercy."

Rafe groaned and pressed close, nuzzling his face into my hair again, a habit he'd picked up with me, his hands sliding back down my chest to pull my hips back to his. He was half hard, and there was a very good possibility that I would change my mind and beg for him to be inside of me rather than for mercy.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that he would do it. Rafe wanted me.

The kiss. The broken countertop. The devastated joy on his face as he came.

"I like your taste in clothing," he murmured, stroking my hips and thighs and over my sex and ass through the silk.

And then he scooped me up and carried me to the bed.

"Would you like to explain to me what this was doing in your bag?"

I was face down on the bed, starfished and naked, fully prepared to either sleep another four hours or wake up with Rafe's face in my pussy. His tart tone permeated my foggy head first, and the words translated through my fuck-drunk confusion.

I sat up with a start, scrambling through the tangled sheets, wincing at the slice of sunlight cutting through a curtain.

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