I’m fucking obsessed with this woman, and I can’t stop touching her. Can’t get close enough to her. The memory of her has haunted me ever since that night we shared months ago, and I honestly never thought I’d see her again. So to be sitting here in the back seat with my hand tangled up in hers and listening to her singing, so carefree and happy, feels a little surreal.

When we stop outside Hannah’s apartment, that feeling only grows stronger. I always knew she had a place she called home, but to be here and see it while her warm body is pressed against mine and our fingers are linked together makes me feel like I should pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

“Would you mind waiting for me while I help her inside?” I ask the driver, and she nods in the mirror.

I help Hannah out of the car, then walk her to the front door. She fishes in her purse for her key and finally digs it out but dawdles on the stoop like she doesn’t want this night to end any more than I do. I’d love to follow her inside, to do all those things she said she’s fantasized about, but not tonight. Not when she’s had this much to drink.

I want her fully present and sober when I finally claim her the way we both want.

Instead, I rest one hand on her upper arm and lean in to kiss her. She meets me, her lips parting. We linger in it, and she wraps her hands around my neck to kiss me deeper. I don’t want it to end, don’t want to let her go, but I reluctantly pull back and brush her cheek with the back of my fingers, smiling.

“Thank you for a great night,” she says, and I wrap my hand around the back of her head to gently pull it closer to me so I can kiss her forehead.

“I should be the one thanking you, hummingbird,” I murmur as I lean back. “I had an amazing time.”

“Me too. Good night,” she turns to unlock the door.

Once she’s safely inside, I stand there for a moment longer, staring at her closed door, already counting the minutes until I can see her again.

22. Hannah

Chapter 22

Hannah