Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

Her head shook. “Only because you showed me first.”

His throat bobbed, and the air was this bottled, boiling thing. He lifted his glass. “Nah, Maggie. It was you. You who shined goodness. May you show it to the rest of the world. All you are. And may it return every joy back to you because God knows, you gave it to me.”

Royce glanced at Emily.

Love spilled out.

Hunter and Van pounded on the table. “Here, here!”

Tamar stood to lift her glass, and everyone followed suit except for us who were tucked in the booth and unable to stand.

But my heart was already there.

Lifting.

Standing.

I raised my glass.

“To Maggie, to a life of happiness, joy, and many, many orgasms,” Tamar shouted with a smirk.

Royce grunted.

I tried not to chuckle with the way Maggie tried not to look at me.

“To Maggie!” everyone agreed as they lifted their glasses and clinked them together and threw the alcohol back.

“To Maggie,” I said, voice low. But still, she heard me.

Our gazes tangled for the longest beat, and I lifted mine a little higher.

To Maggie.

And we both tossed our shots back.

To Maggie.

The night grew rowdy. Alcohol flowin’ free, though I was sure to keep mine in check because there was no chance I’d let down my guard when it came to Maggie. She was out on the dance floor surrounded by the girls.

Emily, Violet, Mia, and Mel.

Shea, Tamar, and Willow.

They danced and danced while the country band played.

Maggie kept tossing her head back and laughing. Letting her friends spin her as they took turns two stepping to the upbeat rhythm. Girl wore this shimmering sequined skirt and sky-high heels, those legs sleek and toned and making my teeth clench with the onslaught of fantasies that kept invadin’ my mind.

I couldn’t look away.

Neither could about half the bar, either.

I stood on the sidelines nursing a beer and trying not to lose my cool while the vultures buzzed and hovered and measured how to dive into all the gorgeousness goin’ down in that tight-knit group.

Since most of the women touted rocks the size of Texas on their ring-fingers, it was a dangerous, dangerous endeavor.

But I got the sense they were thinking Maggie and Mel might be free game. I might not have the right to make the claim but considering Maggie had asked me to be hers for as long as this charade could last, I was having a hard time tamping down the possession that streaked.

Didn’t help that Maggie kept shooting me these sly glances.

Like the girl was dancin’ for me.

Ripples of lust rode on the air.

Her need real and potent.

Intoxicating.

From where Royce stood on the other side of Richard, he scowled at whatever text lit up his phone. “Shit,” he grumbled.

“What’s up?” Richard shouted over the din.

“Sitter. Amelia won’t stop crying.”

He contemplated for a beat before he weaved into the throbbing mess on the dance floor. Emily beamed when she saw him coming, then her expression fell when he leaned in and gave her the news.

Party was about to be shot.

That was my cue.

Another bit I could rescue. It was my Maggie’s twenty-first, after all.

I wound my way over to them. We’d all ridden over in the party bus Emily had hired, and it was currently idling in an alley waiting to take the crew back to Tybee.

“Sorry to bust up the party so early, Mag Pie.” Royce’s voice was all apology.

Maggie wiped the sheen of sweat from her brow and sent him one of her understanding smiles. “It’s fine. Amelia always comes first.”

“Tonight was supposed to be special, though.”

“It’s been more than special,” she assured him, but I figured we ought to keep it rolling that way.

“Why don’t you two call it, and I can hang back with anyone who wants to stay?” I shrugged it just as casual as could be as I strode up to them.

No big deal.

Like I wasn’t dyin’ to get a minute alone with Maggie.

All this pretending was downright painful.

“Really?” Maggie asked, far too excited by the prospect.

I hid my smile.

Royce scowled. “Not sure—”

“Won’t let her out of my sight,” I promised. Hell, if she went into the restroom to pee, I’d probably follow her in there, too.

“Sounds good to me.” This from Van, Riot’s guitarist. He’d made his way over to where everyone had gathered off to the side of the dance floor. “It’s early. Not sure when you turned into a pussy, man, but this shit is embarrassing.”

He made a show of looking at his watch that didn’t exist.

Dude had better duck because Royce sent him a look that promised he was about to get his teeth knocked from his mockin’ mouth. “Since I found something more important than pissing my nights away on shit that doesn’t matter.”

Van cracked up and lifted his glass in Emily’s direction. “Sure, man, sure. Guess I’d be eager to head home, too, if I had a woman that looked like that.”