In the final novel of the Night Owl Trilogy from bestselling author M. Pierce, can a passion that has withstood many ordeals become a love strong enough to last a lifetime?

Matt Sky is trying to return to normal, having faked his death and come back to life. He and Hannah move back in together, and Matt attempts to put his demons to rest as they strive to grow their relationship into something durable and honest. But as the two become more and more entangled, and the heat between them intensifies in all the best possible ways, Matt’s desire for Hannah ignites cravings he has kept at bay for a long, long time…

Hannah finally has the life she’s always wanted: she’s pursuing her career as a literary agent at Granite Wing Agency, she is writing her first novel, and she is living with her hot, passionate lover. But as Matt and Hannah explore a new intimacy, Hannah finds that there are parts of Matt–dark, wild, uncontrollable parts–that he has yet to show her…that he has yet to show anyone…Under the surface of Matt and Hannah’s domestic bliss, deeply buried secrets burn, and all of a sudden, the least foreseen obstacle threatens to shatter everything they’ve worked so hard for.

We made out for a full quarter-hour before I noticed the tent in the living room.

“Matt!” I snickered. He’d moved the coffee table and couch to accommodate the tent. It was new, or new to me—a tall gray and orange dome.

“Aha, she finally sees it.” He stalked over to the tent. Yes, it was definitely new. Matt wore his distinct “Do you like my new toy?” expression, and he circled the tent and folded his arms and studied it, signaling that I should also take a moment to admire it. I did.

“Wow . . . it’s nice.” I touched one of the poles. “So big. So . . .” In our living room.

“Mm. I got it at REI. Had to throw it together, make sure nothing was missing.” He frowned at the mesh-and-polyester palace. “I thought we might take it for a spin this evening, but not in this weather.”

On cue, thunder crackled and boomed outside.

“Oh, babe.” I rubbed his back. “Lemme get into dry clothes and we’ll ‘take it for a spin’ right here, okay?” I kissed his cheek. “Happy Fourth.”

His eyes lit up like a child’s.

“Perfect,” he said, already halfway into the tent.

I peeled off my wet clothes and changed into my Shell Belle Couture chemise, an expensive little gift from Matt. I never bought such nice things for myself. The champagne silk complemented my pale skin and felt luxurious. The lace cups, well . . . I resisted the urge to grab a robe as I felt my nipples hardening. Matt liked the lace cups best of all.

In the bathroom, I untangled my hair with Moroccan oil and washed my face. On my skin, I left the scent of rainwater.

I returned to a living room devoid of pillows.

The tent flap was shut.

“Knock knock?” I said.

With a swift zinging sound, Matt unzipped the door from inside.

“Why, come in.” He was laughing. The tent was tall, but taller Matt stood stooped beneath the dome. All our pillows lay around his feet.

“Don’t mind if I do.” I took his hand and stepped inside.

He stared openly at my chest.

“Oh,” he said.

His expression grew somber. I wanted to burst out laughing.

God, his cuteness . . .

“Very swanky in here.” I sat cross-legged on a pillow and looked around. The tent was cozy, the inner flaps a vibrant orange, and adorable Matt had stocked a wall pouch with snacks and drinks: two cans of Coke and a bag of goldfish. In another flap, two books and a flashlight.

“I was just testing those pouches,” he mumbled, gesturing to the snacks. “Hi.” He shucked off his shirt—yum—and crawled to me. “Hi . . .”

“Hi,” I said, giggling. “Hello. Did I ruin storytime with lingerie?” I slid my fingers up his arms. Whisper of skin on skin. My hands curled over his shoulders.

“No.” He closed in on me, his body pressing mine back and down. He went for my neck with his teeth, like an animal. Bit the column of my throat. Licked away the hurt.

“Ah,” I gasped, arching under him. I pawed at his abs and pulled at the band of his lounge pants.

An electrical pop sounded in the condo and the room went dark.

Matt and I froze.

We laughed in unison, sitting up and holding one another.

Pure darkness. I clung to his torso.

“Well, this is a first,” I said. “Our first power outage.”

“Always be prepared.” Matt groped around until he found the flashlight. He turned it on and hung it from the top of the tent. A cone of light shone over us.

His erection tented the front of his pants. I reached for it, my hand drawn to it. I gripped his head through the fabric. God, I loved seeing him turned on.

“I’m glad that happened.” He flexed into my hand. “Slowed me down.”

“Baby, you don’t have to slow down.”

“I know. I want to.” He caressed the undersides of my breasts and my nipples. The intricate lace of the cups scratched gently at my skin. I twitched and moaned.

He reached up and turned off the flashlight.

M. Pierce is the bestselling author of Night Owl, book one in the erotic Night Owl Trilogy. The author lives in Colorado and owns a rabbit named Laurence.

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