Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

It was confusion.

It was need.

For both of us, it was the terror of stepping into the unknown. Into the uncharted where we would discover where we had always belonged, or where we would lose ourselves along the way.

But I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, this man was worth that risk.

Besides, what life was worth living without risking your heart?

“And I feel you in mine. Meet me there, Rhys. Meet me in this place that belongs to us.”

He groaned. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

Our bodies rocked and pitched. I climbed higher and higher like I was going to find a way to crawl inside him.

“You won’t.”

His spirit shook. His devastating fear that he would.

But still, his hands explored. They ran my back and gripped me by the bottom as he rocked me against him.

I struggled to get closer. My dress was wrapped around my waist, and my panties were rubbing all over the bulge in his jeans.

Need twisted me in two.

And I ached.

Ached in an acute way that I refused to ignore.

My nails dug into his shoulders, and I gave into frantically begging for all that I’d been missing. As I rushed for a new freedom I knew I would find in him. “Take me inside, Rhys. I want to feel you. All of you.” I demanded it between our kiss.

“Maggie.” I thought he was going to argue but instead he started to carry me toward the house, kissing me wild as he trudged through the sands up onto the boardwalk.

Holding me in the promise of those massive arms. Drowning me in the sea of his reckless kisses. Owning me with the whisper of his breath and the shout of his soul. “Maggie. Want to break every rule for you. How’s it possible, Sweet Thing? How?”

He was pleading it as we hit the elevated patio. He headed around the side of the house and angled enough to open the side door. The second we were inside, he pressed me to the wall, kissing me harder as he rocked against me. “How?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before he had me scooped up higher in his arms and was climbing the narrow second staircase.

Kissing me and kissing me as we went.

At the landing, he paused to peek out into the darkened hall and check that it was clear.

The only sound was the lapping of the waves against the beach and the sleeping house that echoed back.

Then Rhys was looking at me like I was a secret.

A treasured, bittersweet secret.

And I was touching his face, scratching my nails through his full beard.

“Stallion.” I said it so softly, and he dipped his chin to kiss the tips of my fingers that whispered across his lips.

“You make me remember what it feels like to want to be the good guy.” Blue eyes swam with regret and swirled with a current of hope.

“You are a good guy, Rhys. More than a good guy. I feel it…” I leaned in so I was whispering at his ear and still far enough back that I could meet his eye, my touch tracing over the wide expanse of his chest. “This beautiful, beautiful spirit.”

He stared up at me as he carried me down the hall. The air both thinned and dense.

Energy crackled.

A thrill in the atmosphere.

Wrapping and holding and coaxing us to the destination I thought we’d been purposed. Because I’d never been so sure of anything in all my life.

This man. This man.

He entered through my door, and he snapped and locked it behind us, kissing me again as he moved through the bathroom and into the dusky haze of his bedroom.

Though his kiss had turned tender.

Reverent and adoring and careful.

Because we both knew where we were headed.

At the end of his bed, he settled me onto my shaky feet.

The enormous room felt smaller. The walls closed in. So close to this man that I felt myself moving through him.

With him.

So slowly, he climbed down onto his knees in front of me, though he sat up high on them, holding me by the outside of my trembling thighs. The fabric of my dress was bunched in the press of his hot, hot hands.

My heart sped out of time.

Nerves and anticipation and a newfound greed.

My stomach was in knots and my skin alight.

Rhys looked up at me.

This savage beast with the sweetest soul.

His fingers trembled against my flesh.

“You sure we’re doin’ this?” His voice was gruff. Lust coated the words while his care slipped out on his tongue.

“Yes,” I promised.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he said again.

“I’m not afraid.”

Groaning, he pressed his nose into my dress right over my quaking belly.

Need rushed, and my hands found his hair, and he was nuzzling his face into the fabric of my dress, kissing me over the top of it and muttering, “Luckiest bastard alive. Maggie. Fuck. What are we doin’?”