Last Light by M. Pierce Page B

whispered. He dragged his teeth over my jaw. The way his tongue touched my neck … the way he pulled my body against his, forcing me to straddle his thigh … I groaned.
    Through my coat, through Matt’s thin lounge pants, I felt his erection trapped between us. Oh, Lord.
    “B-bunny … in the car,” I panted.
    “Hm? You want it in the car?” Matt wedged me against the door. It felt like a sheet of ice. “How about against the car? Right here.”
    “No, Laurence. Laurence. He’s in the car.”
    Laughter overtook me, fueled by happiness and relief. Matt started to laugh, too. We were helpless with it, sagging against one another and the car.
    And God, if it wasn’t heaven to see Matt laugh like that.
    “Well, I’m not horny or anything.” He rubbed his face. “Goddamn, Hannah. I missed you so much.” He kissed my mouth. He slowed it down, rocking against me and teasing my tongue with his. I moaned and clung to him.
    “Mm, birders … if you start moaning like that. Shhh.” He silenced me with a finger and peered into the car. “You really brought him. Crazy girl.”
    “He missed you.” I grinned. I couldn’t take my eyes off Matt. With his black hair, he looked like a rascally Nate. Maybe he’d lost a pound or two, but I’d expected worse—an emaciated Matt with a limp and a chunk missing from his leg.
    My relief swerved toward disappointment. Matt looked just fine. Gorgeous, strong, passionate—the same old Matt. He wasn’t wasting away without me. I guess I wasn’t wasting away without him, either. At least, not on the outside.
    “What is it?” Matt caught me staring. He smiled uncertainly.
    “Nothing.” I smiled back at him. He had the back door open and was working Laurence’s cage off the seat.
    “Nothing, huh?” He returned to me. He slid a hand under my coat and got a handful of my bare ass. I squeaked. His eyes widened. “What … are you wearing?” Matt tried to get a look.
    I tugged down my coat. “Inside!”
    With a laugh, I broke away and headed toward the cabin. The food would keep in the car. The night was like an icebox.
    Matt followed with the rabbit cage.
    “Ah … wait!” he called.
    I giggled and flew into the cabin. Hot air enveloped me. It smelled of cinnamon and pine and … something burnt. I wrinkled my nose. My eyes adjusted to the firelight. Votive candles glowed in a misshapen heart formation on the dinner table.
    On the far side of the room, a huge spruce slumped against the corner. From it emanated the powerful scent of pine. A bit of ribbon drooped around the tree’s middle.
    Either I felt hysterical or this was seriously funny, because I found myself hugging my belly and fighting new waves of laughter.
    Matt backed into the cabin. He hefted Laurence’s cage and kicked snow from his pants. “Let me explain.” He slid the cage onto the coffee table. He was half laughing, half crooning to the terrified rabbit. “Hey, little guy. It’s okay. Too hot for you? You’re too fat, is what it is.”
    Matt adjusted the thermostat, then pulled me back into the circle of his arms.
    I smiled up at him. Dear God, I’d missed this handsome face, this strong grip.
    “Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, the edges of laughter in his voice, “and happy Valentine’s Day. I made a snack.” He hooked a thumb toward the table. I glanced over his shoulder. It was Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it? I had forgotten.
    In the candlelight, I saw two paper plates, a bag of Wonder Bread, a jar of peanut butter, and one spoon. I pressed my lips into a line to keep from laughing.
    “Oh, sweetie. Wow. And … a tree.” My mouth twitched. “Did something burn?”
    I was still acutely aware of Matt’s arousal pressed against me. His fingers gathered up my coat as we spoke. I trembled against him.
    “I was making pasta. I threw it out. It came out all … weird. Hannah, what—” Matt’s fingertips trailed over the tops of my thigh-highs. Again, confusion flashed through