“Tautly written, complex, and vibrating with a dark sensuality that will have you at once blushing and anxious. You’ll think you have this book pegged . . . but you’ll be wrong.”—Christina Lauren, New York Times, USA Today, and international bestselling authors of The Beautiful Bastard series

From bestselling ebook author M. Pierce comes the first novel in a provocative erotic trilogy where an anonymous online writing partnership turns into an uncontrollable, passionate obsession

At twenty-eight, Matt Sky has the perfect life. He has a beautiful girlfriend, a massive inheritance, and four national bestsellers — all penned under his airtight alias, M. Pierce.

At twenty-seven, Hannah Catalano is a train wreck. Her boyfriend is a deadbeat and her job is abysmal.

Matt and Hannah meet online as writing partners. Their relationship is safe, anonymous, and innocent…

Until Matt sees a picture of Hannah. Hannah’s picture sparks an attraction Matt is powerless to ignore. When circumstance brings Matt and Hannah together, the strangers begin a love story that’s passionate, poignant, unforgettable, and unstoppable.

Panic set in as I listened to the ring.

I’m about to talk to Matt.

I’m about to hear his voice.

I don’t even know this guy.

What the hell am I doing?

He could be a psycho stalker.

We shouldn’t cross this line.

I can hang up.

I can hang up now.

Yeah, I’m going to h—

“Hannah?”

I swallowed and slid down the bathroom wall.

“Hannah, is that you?”

Matt’s cool, clear voice swirled in my ear. It was distantly accented—New Jersey, maybe New York—and a little husky.

He sounded sleepy.

He sounded sexy as hell.

I had the overwhelming urge to ask him to keep saying my name. Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. Help me come. Warmth bloomed between my legs.

“Okay then.” He laughed softly. I felt my reason melting at the sound. “We’ll play the one-sided conversation game. I’m Matt, it’s nice to—” Again, he broke into quiet laughter. His voice was rich with amusement, but not warm. He sounded contemptuous. He sounded ready to laugh at anything, simply for the pleasure of laughing with his silky voice.

I couldn’t help but picture the devilish eyes that must have accompanied that voice.

Green eyes, I decided. Dark green, secretive and deep like a forest.

“I was going to say it’s nice to meet you,” he went on, “but I guess we’ve technically met online. Now we’re meeting on the phone. Maybe…” He trailed off. I heard some shuffling. “God, if this is you trolling me Nate, I swear I’m going to break your fucking—”

“Hey! Sorry, I—” I scooted over to the bathroom door, opened and closed it, then sat back against the wall. Brilliant. Sorry, I was soaking my underwear while I listened creepily to your voice. “—sorry, yeah. I had to go in the bathroom. My sister is asleep.”

Matt was silent for a moment.

“Is that why you’re whispering?” he said.

“Yeah. She’s really tired. We’re at a motel, we just stopped. Pretty sure the wall between this bathroom and her bed is a piece of plywood, so.”

“Well… damn. I wanted to hear your voice. I mean, your regular volume voice.” He chuckled. “Do you think you could risk a few words? I’ll deal with your sister if she wakes up.”

I smirked, imagining a conversation between my hotheaded sis and this glib personality.

“I think that would be a bad idea. But, um. Sure. What  should I say?”

“With your normal voice? How about, the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.”

“Okay.” I cleared my throat. I was suddenly painfully self-conscious about my voice. “Um. Okay. The… the quick brown fox—”

Laughter exploded on the line. It was loud and sharp, nearly cruel.

“Oh… my god Hannah.” I heard a clatter, then some scuffling. “Oh fuck. You were really saying it. The quick… brown fox… oh god.” Matt dissolved into laughter again.

I glared at my knees.

“What’s so fucking funny?” I whispered.

“Hannah. Hannah, I’m sorry.”

I heard him take a few calming breaths.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry. Ignore me, seriously. I have a weird sense of humor. That… that struck me funny. You have a lovely voice. Go figure.”

Go figure? What did he mean by that?

“Look, is there a reason you wanted me to call, or were you just looking for some late night entertainment?”

“Pretty sure this classifies as early morning entertainment, Hannah.”

“Okay. Well whatever. Look, I’m not sure why I—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His words stopped me cold.

His words, and something in his voice. Honesty.

“What we did,” he continued. “Or what you did to me…”

My throat went dry. What I did to him. It should have grossed me out, the thought of a stranger beating off to a few details about my body, but it didn’t. It intrigued me. The heat between my legs pulsed.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he insisted. An edge came into his voice at the slightest provocation.

“Y-yeah,” I managed. “Yeah.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“Yeah.”

“You said you wished I were pounding into you.”

“Yeah…”

I couldn’t believe this smooth-talking stranger was dictating to me how I felt.

I couldn’t believe I was blindly agreeing.

And I couldn’t believe my considerable vocabulary had suddenly been reduced to “yeah.”

“Hannah, you made me come so hard. And I did it again, thinking about you. Let me return the favor.”

His words hung in the silence between us.

Return the favor. Help me come.

“Yes,” I whispered.

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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