Page 80 of Soft Flannel Hank

“Thank you,” Esther replied.

A fresh burst of tears fell, and Niamh gasped, clutching her hands to her heart like she was in agony.

Hank released Esther and took a quick step towards Niamh, who screeched, “I’m fine!”

Hank stopped dead in his tracks.

“How can I help?” Hank asked, and Ether felt her insides go to mush. He was so good.

“There’s nothing you can do for me,” Niamh said, choking down a wail and hissing in a breath through her teeth. “I’ll be going.”

She held her hand out, that ghostly white hand, as if warding both of them off, and as Hank and Esther stepped out of her way, she slipped out the door and closed it behind her.

The SUV started quietly outside the closed door and pulled away from the house. Hank turned toward Esther. He reached out and brushed her cheek carefully with the rough pad of his thumb.

“I was so scared,” Esther said, feeling her throat tighten around the words.

“I know,” he said, staring at her with those black coffee eyes.

“You just left me in the truck and I—I—I didn’t know what had happened to you,” she said, feeling a sob rising like a geyser.

“I needed to know you were safe,” Hank said, his brows pinching together.

“My safety isn’t worth more than yours!” she said hotly. “My life is not worth more than yours.”

“No,” he growled, yanking her against his chest and kissing her with so much force that she cut her lip on her teeth.

With a relieved moan, she threw her arms around his neck and held herself as close to him as their height difference would allow, tasting the coppery tang of her own blood against his lips. All of the stress and exhaustion and pent-up lust of the past twenty-four hours crashed down on her. Esther felt lost in it as he kissed her.

“You’re wrong, Esther,” Hank said against her mouth. “Your safety is everything to me. Your life is everything to me.” He nipped at her lips between his words before thrusting his tongue deep.

She panted, opening her mouth to reply, but he stole her breath, stole her words, as he backed her against the door. He reached around and lifted her. Esther wrapped her legs around him.

Esther pulled his hair as he kissed her senseless. She felt his desperate urgency, his unleashed desire, when he was normally so rigidly controlled. He moaned into her mouth and she felt the abrasion of his beard against her chapped lips.

“I would do anything to keep you safe,” he said, taking her earlobe between his teeth. She gasped. “I would do anything. I would steal. I would lie. I would kill. I would die, Esther,” he said, pulling away and looking at her, his eyes wild and bright. “I would die to keep you safe. Do you understand? I woulddie,” he said, choking on the last word.

“You can’t,” she said, peppering his face with kisses as he panted into her neck. “You can’t. I won’t let you.”

“Try and stop me,” he said, meeting her gaze again.

“Hank,” she whispered, stroking her hand down his cheek.

He turned his face toward it, pressing a kiss in the center of her palm. And another. Then Hank kissed her mouth so sweetly, his lips feathering lightly over hers. He kissed her forehead and lowered her slowly to the floor. He took a step back, and Esther felt her body cry out for him in the absence.

“I’ll be back.”

“But—”

“Esther, I have things I need to tell you. But I’m too wound up right now to do it.”

“Where will you go?” she asked, feeling the tears rising once more.

“Not far, sweetheart. I’ll never be far.”

And with that, he squeezed past her and out the door, leaving Esther alone in the cabin. She took a deep breath and looked around her. In a moment, she heard the unmistakable sound of wood chopping. Glancing out the window confirmed it as Hank stood with an axe next to a pile of downed tree limbs.

Doesn’t this man have any other ways to emotionally regulate?