Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

Or maybe it was just that I liked him.

Shit.

I liked him.

And that was bad news for me.

Butterflies fluttering chaotically, I peeled back the sheet so I could crawl in beside him. I hesitated when I was again faced with the fact the man was only wearing briefs.

I shuddered a breath.

So much skin.

I got brave.

Bold.

I curled up close to him, leaving two inches of space between us. Still, I was close enough that I could feel the rhythm of his breaths. Close enough I could sense the beat of his heart.

The raging rhythm battering his chest calmed as the seconds passed.

I would stay right there and make sure he was fine, sound asleep, and then I’d sneak out.

He wouldn’t even know I was gone.

I’d slip into my own bed where I could fall into the horrible abyss of sleep.

Where my demons waited to consume.

Where I got lost each night, and I had to claw my way out each time I woke to find myself all over again.

It seemed like a solid plan until one of those massive arms curled around my back and tucked me against his hard, rigid body. Right up to where I could feel every deliriously delicious line of him.

Our chests were pressed together, and our hearts beat manically in time.

And his nose was in my hair, his mouth at my temple, the mumbled whisper seeping way down deep where it didn’t belong. “Died and went to heaven.” His nose burrowed deeper. “Goddess Girl.”

Six

Rhys

Torment ripped me from sleep, shooting me upright in bed.

Alcohol still slogged through my veins, walls spinning and my stomach sour. Disoriented as fuck, I scrubbed a palm over my face, trying to see through the darkness and make sense of what was goin’ down.

Legs flailed and sheets ripped and short, rapid gasps panted into the air. All of it was comin’ from the girl who’d been tucked to my side.

Now, she writhed.

Fear leached from her skin as whimpers tumbled from her mouth.

That sweet, sweet thing that I knew better than touchin’. One who sure as fuck shouldn’t have been in my bed.

But that didn’t matter a thing.

My arms were wrapping around her, like a rope lassoing a wild calf, except the last thing I wanted was to hold this girl down.

Still chained to her dream, she yelped at the contact, her skin so hot she might as well have been a thousand degrees. The feel of her was like reaching out and touching the sun.

Blinding, sparking light.

My insides charred, nothing but ash.

Because she thrashed and whimpered, “No, don’t, please.”

And my lips were at her temple, whispering, “I’ve got you, Sweet Thing. Mags, shhh…baby…I’ve got you. Not gonna hurt you.”

I attempted to rein the rage that blistered beneath my flesh. Torched me to the soul.

Because I knew. I fucking knew, and I’d never wanted to slaughter anything like I wanted to slaughter the man who’d harmed her. All I could think as I pulled her trembling body closer was that bastard Cory Douglas was one lucky motherfucker that he was already dead.

Whoever had choked the life out of him in prison had done him a mercy.

I pressed my lips to her forehead that was drenched in sweat. “I have you.”

The tiniest whimper slipped between her lips before she began to settle, the tension that stretched her body taut with agony seeping out, girl letting go, submitting into the comfort I had no right to be offering.

Her fingernails scraped into my chest, and her nose nuzzled into my beard.

“Wanna be free,” she murmured from the depths of sleep.

My arms curled tighter, wishing when she did, I might be the one worthy of watching her fly.

I awoke to the welcome of her soft sigh. Warmth curled around me like some kinda drug.

Both hauntin’ and mesmerizing.

Hypnotizing.

Like I’d slipped into her dream and soothed her while I was there.

For a moment, I clung to it, felt like I was floating somewhere in the clouds, even with the pounding in my brain from the remnants of the Jager.

I got selfish and hugged her tighter, that sweet, sweet body tucked close to mine.

Died and went to heaven.

So yeah.

Maybe a flash of guilt slapped me across the face because holy shit, it was damned near painful how hard she had me.

Lying there like this.

Tangled.

Problem was, after last night? I was torn between feelin’ like this girl might need me, like maybe she got a little bit of that peace from me, too. All while feeling like a straight douche-nugget for knowing I was crossin’ a line that shouldn’t be crossed and being just greedy enough to two-step straight into forbidden territory, anyway.

Dancing in a few fires as I went.

Because this story already had failure stamped all over it.

Red pen scribbling out the lines.

Because I could physically feel myself already hurtin’ her. This creaking ache in the middle of my chest. Knowing I had nothin’ to give and wanting to dig around inside myself to find some scraps to offer.