“Sorry,” she gasped, arching her spine more to make room for him. But Milo moved away, nudging her so she rolled onto her back. He fell over her, like a favorite blanket, and leaned in, gripping the back of her leg for leverage.
“What’s wrong?” he breathed, nipping at her jaw. Hanna’s hands ran over his back, her nails dragging lines into his skin. He hesitated moving against her, the uncertainty in his muscles somehow the hottest thing he could have done.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she insisted. “That’s what’s wrong.”
His weight collapsed as he laughed. “I really wish I didn’t understand exactly what you meant.” He landed in a heap beside her.
“Are we fucking stupid?” Hanna said, folding into his arms and wrapping her leg around his hips. She ached for him, her entire body screaming to forget about logic—a twist of her hips and he’d be hers. He snagged her lips between his teeth as his hand rested on her ass, kneading her skin slowly, carefully.
“Yes,” he whispered, not caring that it was the truth. “Do you want to stop?”
“No.” She answered too quickly. He squeezed harder, his mouth more insistent as he grazed her collarbone. “Do you want to stop?”
“Does it feel like I want to stop, Arizona?” Milo pushed against her thigh, her heart racing. She reached for his face, tangling her fingers into his hair and pulling him to her neck. If they weren’t stopping, she might as well enjoy his mouth on every inch of her.
“You taste so fucking good. So good,” Milo murmured, wrapping his arms around her tighter. There were too many truths swirling in the depths of his gaze. Hanna turned away, sighing and closing her eyes at the waves of sizzling heat clinging to her skin. She held her breath, twisting her hips to give him access to her.
She swallowed, the swell of him against her stealing any lingering doubt she might have held onto.
“Mi—”
“Milo! Yo!”
Hanna jolted and he froze, the sound of the front door slamming ripping them away from what they both desperately needed.
“Fuck,” Milo hissed as Hanna crawled away from him, off the bed and across the room before he could blink. She searched for her dress, her entire body flushing a deep shade of pink.
“Milo!”
“One sec,” he yelled back, his voice cracking. “Just getting dressed!” Milo slammed the bedroom door shut, his jaw clenched as he disappeared into his closet.
Matty called out, “Hanna!”
Milo leaned out of the closet, eyes wide as she adjusted her dress to cover her red-splotched chest. The ghosts of his fingertips haunted her.
“Hanna! Are you home? Sara’s looking for you!”
“She’s not home!” Milo yelled, yanking his shirt over his head. He walked out of the bedroom, his voice echoing off the kitchen as Matty helped himself to a drink from the fridge.
“Sara thought they were having dinner.” Her nose scrunched. Reality slowly came back to her—she had agreed to dinner.
“I’ll just check her location,” a third voice said, a low one she hadn’t anticipated. Her entire body caught fire, and not in the way Milo had just had it burning.
“You still have her location?” Milo asked.
The irritation in his voice did nothing to help fade the red splotches across her chest in the shape of his palms.
Logan mumbled, “Yeah, she probably doesn’t even remember she shared it with me. It’s been years. I guess I should have checked it before coming out here,” he said, a bitter laugh following.
Hanna fought the urge to poke her head out and say something antagonistic. Had he been staring at her unmoving face on a map as it rotted in her house for the last year? She looked for her underwear, but wasn’t even sure when they came off.
“Says she’s here?” Logan said.
“She might be doing laundry upstairs,” Milo mumbled. “You guys ready to go?”
She could see the way Matty tossed his arms up in her mind by the way he sighed.
“Yeah, I’m fucking starving. You were supposed to come over fifteen minutes ago, diva.”
