Page 70 of Wake Me Most Wickedly
It was well after midnight by the time Hannah was able to sneak through the window and into the room where Sol was staying. The snow had stopped enough that most of the moon and even a few stars lit the night sky, guiding her way. The same now illuminated his sleeping form.
God, she wanted him. Too much. But as she’d known from the beginning, she could not have him. That wasn’t her story. That would never be her story.
She’d accepted the life she’d created. And she’d been—and would soon be again—on the cusp of giving Tamar the life she deserved. Fulfilling the promise to her parents. That would have to be enough.
She moved to the bed and gazed down at Sol. She was only here to warn him and then end things for good. Though doing so in person—an act that had seemed like a necessity when leaving the Weiss home—now, in the moonlight, Hannah had to admit that she’d been lying to herself.
A note would’ve most certainly sufficed. Even if her original one had been lost to the snow when Martin had taken her. Her gloved fingers flexed as the urge to touch him, to gently brush the dark curls back from hisforehead, near overwhelmed her. She reached out—and nearly screamed as his hand encircled her wrist.
“Back, are we?” the bloody momzer said, opening his eyes and arching a brow.
“Only for a moment,” she told him. “I’m here just to confirm that I spoke to both Roger Berab and your brother—”
“I know,” he said, not releasing her. “Berab came to visit me today.”
He tugged on her wrist and pulled her against his body, wrapping his arms around her. “Why are you really here, Hannah?” he asked with a rather wolfish grin.
“Not for that,” she admonished, though her tone was less convincing than she’d like.
“Pity,” he said. And the damned momzer licked his lips.
Her heart began beating in her ears. No. They couldn’t—shouldn’t—do this again.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said, willing herself to pull away but failing.
“Debatable,” he said before grabbing her waist with one arm and nudging her up so she was straddling his chest. “As, despite how things appear, I’m even less injured than before.”
This was meshuggeneh. But need pooled in her core as he reached up to twirl a lock of hair that had fallen from its cheap pins.
“You’re tempted, aren’t you?” he said with a sly smile. “You find me irresistible.”
“How hard exactly did you hit your head when you fell from the rooftop?” She pouted but didn’t pull away, instead arching into him as he ran a hand down her cheek.
“My head is just fine. It’s other parts of my body that need attention.” He waggled his damned eyebrows in a manner that was both suggestive and ridiculous. “Didn’t you say something about nursing, last time you were here?”
“Completely incorrigible,” she groaned.
“Damned straight,” he told her, this time his dimple showing when he smiled. “Tenacious too. In more ways than one.” He gave her a wink. “Ways you can find out, if you just let me show you.”
“Tenacious, you said? Certainly, in your ability to argue until the sun comes up.” She glanced out the window. “And as I’m a person of the night, I should be getting home before that occurs,” she told him, even if in her heart she knew that he’d already won. Right or wrong—well, most certainly wrong—she was staying.
This one last time.
“You know, if you just dispensed with your arguments now, there could be plenty of time for what we both need.” Sol tightened his grip on her waist. “Come on, Hannah, come sit… with me.” He grinned at her as he moved his hand low, cupping her and making her moan. “For just a little longer.”
“Incorrigible” was an understatement. But the man was right; he was still completely irresistible. Especially when he looked at her that way, both tugging at her heartstrings and making her body fizzle with heat.
“And at least let me kiss you.” He leaned up against her. “Kisses certainly have healing properties.”
At that she had to laugh a little. “You’re not tenacious,” she told him, placing her hands on her hips. “You’re a nag.”
“Very much.” He brought her hand to his lips andpaused for a moment, giving her a questioning tilt of his head. “Which is why you’re wearing the perfume I bought you.” He stroked her fingers. “That and because you like it.” His voice softened. “See, Hannah, when I’m right, I’m right. And regarding us, I’m often right. Is that so difficult to acknowledge?”
She should bolt for the damned window, but instead, she nodded.
And in an instant, he pulled her wrist toward him and—blew on it.
Momzer. Complete momzer. “You’re arrogant and spoiled too, you know?” she added.
