Page 68 of Soft Flannel Hank

She felt her heartbeat pulsing between her legs and cursed theabsolute fucking inconvenienceof it all. Leave it her to fall for a beautiful man who didn’t know he was beautiful, who was roleplaying a thirst trap without realizing it, and who wanted nothing to do with her outside of indulging his unfulfilled heroism.

Esther didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually her stomach began to growl loudly. Hank showed no signs of stopping. She may not be able to help feeling so horned up as to be miserable, but she didn’t have to be hungry at the same time. She decided that if she left the lights off, nobody would be able to see her move in the dark house from outside. Slowly, she crept down the stairs.

She’d be back up in a flash. She only wanted to grab a protein bar. Maybe one of the bananas he’d bought yesterday and a glass of water.

She fumbled around the pantry, trying to find the bars with only the light from the outdoor floodlight shining through the windows to guide her. The mudroom door banged open and slammed shut, and Esther almost jumped out of her skin, spinning around to find Hank in the doorway to the kitchen.

“You’re supposed to be upstairs,” he growled, panting.

“I’ve been in your room this whole time. But I haven’t eaten since breakfast and so I…” she trailed off.

“You deserve better than those bars,” he said quietly.

“They’re fine.”

“They’re shit.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t cook in the dark,” she snapped, but not because she was mad at him. It wasn’t his fault.

None of this was his fault. Not the vampire hunt. Not the fact that the barswereshit. Not the fact that he was stuck with her in his house. Well, that last part was a little bit his fault. But she was hungry and tired and painfully aroused, which only compounded all of the other feelings she was having.

“I’ll just take this bar and go back,” she said, waving it in the air, trying to keep her voice even.

She closed the pantry door and walked past him to get to the stairwell. Hank’s hand flew out and held her upper arm, just like he had in the motel. This close to him, Esther could feel the heat rolling off his body. She could smell the sweat that dripped down his neck along with the scent of chopped cedar.

Esther squeezed her eyes shut. She could do this. Shecoulddo this. She could be this close to a man she found this attractive without trying to climb him like one of the trees he’d just splintered. She took a deep breath and heard him do the same—a long, sharp inhale. But he didn’t let go.

She could see his eyes just barely glittering from the light of the clock on the microwave over the stove. Everything else was just the impression of him. The hard, warm, dark, looming impression of him.

“Hank?”

“Goddammit,” he said, yanking her against his chest. “I can’t do this.”

And with that, his mouth crashed down on hers.

Esther heard the thunk as the protein bar fell from her fingers and hit the floor. She couldn’t begin to care, because she’d already wound her arms around Hank’s neck and levered her whole body against his. She could feel the dampness of his sweat-soaked shirt through her own as he devoured her.

“You think I don’t want you?” he gritted out against her mouth.

“Wh-what?”

“That’s what you said at the motel.”

“You don’t,” Esther panted, biting his bottom lip and dragging a groan from deep in his chest.

“How can I let myself want you when you keep fucking leaving?” he said through clenched teeth as he skated his lips against her throat. Esther wondered if he would bite her. She almost hoped he would.

“I didn’t leave. I’m still here.”

He thrust his tongue into her mouth until it was all she could taste and gripped her ass harder. She moaned against his invasion and tried to wrap a leg around his hip, but he was too tall, too big. With shocking speed, he hefted her legs below her ass and spun, lifting her onto the countertop and grinding his pelvis against her.

“Fuck, Hank,” she breathed.

“You left.” He sucked her ear lobe into his mouth and then began to kiss down the side of her neck, punctuating each sentence with a powerful thrust of his hips.

“You left.”Thrust.“No note.”Thrust.“No call.”Thrust.“No way to reach you.”Thrust.“You fucking left.”Thrust.

He was back at her mouth. Squeezing her thighs with his hands as his tongue tangled with hers. Esther felt like a rock in the harbor trying to stand firm in the face of a typhoon, trying to absorb the force of his anger, his hurt, his desire. She could drown in it and she’d beg for more.