Falling into You (Falling Stars 3)

Agony and affection vied for dominance on that sweet, stunning face, girl just staring at me, our connection a steady thrum in the atmosphere.

A tether.

A bond.

Didn’t know how long we stared before she shook herself out of it. “Are you going to feed me or what, Superstar?” It was a tease. A taunt.

“Superstar? Not even close,” I told her.

“Pssh…I’ve heard the rumors about you and your band. Know you made it big. Just like I knew you would.”

She started to climb out.

“Stay right there. Don’t move.”

I hopped out and rushed around the front, opened her door, and extended my hand for her to take it.

She glared at it like it was a viper. “Richard.”

“I’m just bein’ a gentleman like my ma taught me to be.”

Those captivating eyes rolled. “You really do love to sweet talk me, don’t you?” She took my hand, those long legs exposed as she shifted around to slip out, skin glimmering in the light, that fabric sweeping up those thighs I was dying to get lost in.

To lose myself in that delirium-inducing body.

Need pulsed.

I swallowed it down, but it didn’t want to go anywhere when she climbed out and it left her standing an inch away.

Lust. Greed. Want.

They pummeled me at gale force.

I somehow got it together and took a step back.

I should have been awarded a gold medal.

“Let’s feed you, gorgeous girl.”

So I was pretty sure the no touching thing might be off the table because I couldn’t let go of her hand, and she didn’t seem like she could let go of mine as I led her into the upscale restaurant, the best in Dalton.

Inside, it was dim and swanky. Place decorated in an antique, lush vibe.

Heavy tapestries and oversized carved wooden furniture, small alcoves lit by candlelight to create an intimate setting.

At the hostess stand, I gave my name. I thought the girl who couldn’t have been more than nineteen working it might have pissed her pants because her eyes went round when she saw me. She started to stammer, “O-oh…oh yes. Richard Ramsey. Right this way.”

The girl kept stealing peeks at me as she led us through the main floor to one of the private tables. She was way younger than me. Someone I didn’t recognize or know. Which was kind of unsettling considering this was my hometown.

But I guessed things did change.

We ducked into the secluded nook, and I held out Violet’s chair. She slipped into it, and I moved to sit on the opposite side. The girl passed us our menus.

“I…um…so…have a good dinner.” She ducked out without saying anything else.

Violet suppressed a giggle.

“Don’t even,” I mumbled, pretending to turn my attention to the menu.

Her giggle got louder. “Told you.”

“What did you tell me?”

A blush was lighting her face. But it wasn’t shyness eliciting that alluring color. It was pride. “Superstar,” she mouthed.

“Not even,” I said again.

She laughed, and she kept her voice subdued considering the entire restaurant was held in a low drone of voices and clanking dishes. “Did you see that girl back there? She tripped all over herself with the mention of your name.”

I waved it off. “She did not.”

“Yes, she did. I bet you could go up to her right now, ask her to go home with you, and she would.”

Somehow, she was all playful grins when she said it.

But I wasn’t laughing. “Wouldn’t happen.”

“Bet you a hundred bucks.” Violet’s grin was even wider.

Faster than she could process it, I had tossed my menu onto the table and had shifted so I was right in her face, leaning off to the side and over the small circular table.

I was assaulted anew.

Violets and dreams and life.

Wanted to glut myself on it.

“It wouldn’t happen.” The words were hard.

Emphasized.

Confusion filled those violet eyes, that perplexed gaze searching my face.

My teeth ground with the ferocity of the confession. “It wouldn’t happen because I would never ask her to go home with me. Not her or anyone else.”

That confusion grew in strength, girl’s mind racing toward disbelief.

The energy shifted.

A fierce severity that blustered from my flesh.

The determination.

Her entire being rattled. “Don’t you dare start tellin’ me lies, Richard. I’ve come to terms.”

It was such a lie, I could taste her defense on my tongue.

I squeezed her wrist, my nose at her cheek, brushing across the silky flesh before I was moving for her ear. “You. Are. My. Wife.”

It was hard.

Vicious.

Possession bounded through my blood.

“And that fuckin’ means something to me.”

Shock froze her, like she didn’t dare breathe. Didn’t dare move.

I couldn’t bear to ask if the same had applied to her.

I couldn’t blame her if it hadn’t even if the thought made me want to go on a crime spree.

It’d been six fucking years, and believe me, that truly could drive a man to insanity.

“Six fuckin’ years.” The declaration came on a roll of pain.