Falling into You (Falling Stars 3)

Every time the light would strobe across her just right, they’d struck him like thunderbolts.

At first, he’d thought it was those crazy-ass eyes that had captured him. Nearly had him stumbling over the frets of his guitar when she’d come into view. Stomach lurching. Not knowing whether to climb off that stage right then to get a closer look or to wait and take the chance that she might be gone before the end of their show.

The girl was like looking at a glittering flare. A thousand sparkling colors in a sea of drab that gathered at the foot of the stage, same way as they did night after night.

But this girl? She was nothing but a jumpstart to his senses.

A kick of a million volts that had slammed him from across the space.

Which was damned ridiculous, so he’d spent the next hour trying to convince himself he was making it up. Envisioning himself a prize that didn’t exist. This porcelain girl with soft, soft cheeks and softer lips. All pink and plush and plump and begging for his kiss.

“Hey there.” His voice rumbled low, just loud enough for her to hear it over the clamor of the busy bar.

“Hi,” she returned. Her voice was this cross between a bell and sensuality. Earnest and real and ripe with seduction.

A remedy.

Truth was, the stage was his life. The focus of each day. What got him out of bed in the morning.

The music that lived within him was the single purpose he’d been given. To breathe something magical into existence. Create something good in the middle of the atrocities and the strife.

Give a little hope and distraction.

Which was why he’d felt shocked when he’d had the compulsion to climb down from the stage and end a show early for the first time since he and his band had started touring years before.

All for this girl, right in his hometown.

“I’m Richard. You’ve gotta be new around here.”

Redness pinked her cheeks. He wanted to press his nose to it to find out if she was as hot as he felt. “Violet. And no. Not new.”

He kicked up a wry smirk, leaning in closer. “You’re lying. No chance I could have seen you before and then forgotten you. Not when you are, without a doubt, unforgettable.”

She turned to look at him. Those eyes flashed. “You know, you’d think with that whole stage thing and you playin’ and lookin’ the way you do, the cheesy pick-up lines wouldn’t be necessary.”

He barked out a laugh.

Shit.

This girl.

So different. And he fuckin’ liked it.

He shifted around so he was facing her, one arm rested on the bar. His smirk deepened. “You’re right. Not normally necessary. But normally I don’t stumble into girls like you.”

That blush deepened and she seemed thankful to have someplace to turn her attention when the bartender set a pitcher of margaritas and four glasses in front of her.

“Let me get that. Can you add a Michelob on tap to it?” he asked, going for his wallet.

“Sure,” the bartender responded while Violet’s hand shot out to stop him from tossing cash onto the bar. “No. I don’t need you to buy me drinks.”

His brows shot to the sky. “I can’t buy you a drink?”

“Nope.”

“And why’s that?” Amusement danced around his mouth, his eyes drinking her in.

Fuck the beer.

He was pretty sure this girl was the only thing that could quench this thirst.

That violet stare raked over his arms, up his chest, until she was looking at his face, gaze sparking with something playful and real. “Because you’re going to buy me a drink and then you’re gonna think you can take me home. Then I’d have to go and disappoint you because that’s not going to happen.”

He edged in closer so he could whisper in her ear. He was slammed with a lungful of the girl.

Violets and color and dreams.

Infiltrating.

Invading.

In an instant, he was overcome with that intoxicating energy he’d sworn had zapped through the air the second she’d come into view.

What the fuck?

He tried to shake it off, the way she impacted him like she meant something.

“And what if I just wanna dance with the prettiest girl in the place?”Music poured from the speakers, the dance floor packed, and lights strobed over them in time with the beat of the fast-paced country song.

Sensations flew, but the girl in his arms was the only thing he felt.

So soft. So right. Her spirit this palpable thing he swore danced around them. A vapor. Mist. Something faithful and right that he wanted to inhale.

It didn’t matter a ton of people were two-stepping around them.

He held her tight, her sleek body tucked close, the thunder of her heart pounding against his as he led her in the slowest dance.

He had one hand splayed over the small of her back and the other twisted in her sleek, shiny hair.