Holding Hannah Read Free Page B

sconces came to instant life. They flickered, casting the illusion of real flames on one wall and the shadows of carved supplication on the other all the way down into the room below.
    It was a dungeon. Her knees weakened all over again. They had a dungeon. Twelve small steps and she’d be down in it, standing next to row after row of implements hanging neatly on the wall. From here, she could already see at least one spanking bench and, straight ahead, a single leg of a St. Andrew’s cross—black, padded, restraints standing open, empty and waiting as if just for her.
    The dark need inside her rolled and roared, surging back to life as if it had never fallen silent.
    Ten days. She’d only been better for ten short days . This time.
    Hannah stared helplessly a s Sam began to descend, one step, then two, then he stopped, waiting on her.
    “Have you ever been?” He asked.
    Her mouth was dry as sawdust.  "Been what?" She croaked.
    "To a place like this."
    Her arm and leg were on fire, burning muted within her clothes, screaming in half-remembered pleasure, half-remembered pain—screaming with the ghosts of sensations that wouldn’t stop no matter how tightly she gripped at her arm and prayed for them to. She didn’t need this anymore. She didn’t want it.
    She’d never stopped wanting it and she’d never wanted anything more in all her life.
    "No," she whispered.
    “Would you like to go?” Sam’s grip on her hand was nothing more than his open fingers lightly resting under hers. He took another step down, tempting her to come and stand right at the very top of the staircase, trembling as she stared down into the abyss of what she desired most of all.
    Everyone would be so disappointed in her.
    Her will was crumbling anyway.
    “Come with me,” he coaxed. He really was the devil. “We won’t do anything more than just look around.”
    Her fingers on his shook, but when he took another step back, she took her first step down. Her heart was beating so hard and so fast, her nipples tightened, her womb shivered—
    “I think we have everything we need,” Goodson announced, his thumping footsteps echoing through the stones right over her head and through the empty entryway behind her. “Where are you, Miss Alder?”
    J ust like that, the spell was broken.
    Hannah snatched her fingers off of Sam’s. Stumbling backwards out of the shadows and into the light of the foyer, she crashed into a marble pillar and for a moment just stood there, hands pressed against her stomach and chest, furiously willing her heart to slow, her nerves to untangle, her body to stop shaking.
    “Here,” she stammered, then cleared her throat and tried again, this time careful to keep her voice steady and even. “I’m here.”
    But it wasn’t until Sam came back up the stairs—frowning at the underside of the staircase in supreme annoyance—that she managed to make herself actually move. His hand caught her arm when she tried to scamper past him, but just as quickly she felt a soft tug at her skirt pocket and then he set her free. She hurried after Goodson, already holding open the front door and offering Marshall, who stood with his hands braced upon the second floor balcony rail, a smile and a farewell wave.
    Don’t look back , Hannah told herself. Don’t look back . But as she stepped through the door, that itch at the back of her head overwhelmed her. She stole a quick peek over her shoulder.
    Sam had followed only as far as the bottommost st air. Now, propped against the banister, arms folded across his chest, he simply watched her go. Another slow smile curled his mouth, growing in amusement the longer it took for her to tear her gaze away. In the end, she only managed it because Goodson closed the door between them.
    They left their hardhats near a toolbox at the edge of the half-finished gate, and as they walked back to the car, Goodson asked, “Did you notice anything?”
    A thousand things, none of which had anything at