Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

Bubbling up from some unfound spring that I hadn’t known existed.

A place Rhys Manning had uncovered.

The man slowly stalked the rest of the way in. Step by monstrous step.

My head tilted farther back as he came closer.

Hot.

Heat.

Fire.

Fumbling beneath the intensity of him, I stumbled back until I gently knocked into the wall.

Until the mountain of him had me pinned.

Delicately, though.

Like the mass of him knew I might be fragile.

He rested his left forearm on the wall above my head and slowly…so slowly…he reached out and dragged the knuckle of his right index finger down the angle of my jaw. “Goddess Girl.”

My spirit leapt at his tone.

At the affection.

Blue eyes toiled like the sea that crashed against the beach outside.

Their depths unfounded.

Uncharted and undiscovered.

I swore I could hear the hammer of his heart.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

Blood sloshed through my veins, trying to keep time.

“And I feel like I’m right here, too,” he rumbled as his fingertips fluttered down my jaw. A wave of chills scattered in their wake. The man was so close. His lips right there. “No matter how fuckin’ hard I’m trying to stay away.”

I blinked up at him. “Isn’t it okay for us to take care of each other?”

“Oh darlin’, I think it’s plenty clear it was me who was reapin’ all the benefits last night.” His words came out riddled with lust.

I was certain of that.

I felt it like a rake across my flesh.

Hooks deep enough I thought they might sink into my soul.

“That’s funny. I thought it was you who came racing up to save me with my brother this morning.”

He let that finger trail down my trembling neck.

Tentatively.

Carefully.

“Couldn’t have kept me away.”

And I was distinctly aware that I was a mess. Sweaty and bloody. But Rhys somehow chased my insecurities away.

I tipped my chin up farther. My words whispered with his mouth an inch from mine. “Isn’t that what friends do? Take care of each other?”

Rhys traced his rough fingertips lower. Until he was tickling across my collarbone, over the thunder of my heart, nudging the shirt I was clinging to out of the way.

It dropped to the floor.

My breaths turned ragged. Shallow and needy.

He managed to get even closer, and his nose brushed mine.

“Is that what we are, Maggie? Friends?” It was another warning.

“Rhys.” His name came on a moan, and my back hitched to the wall, my spine arching my chest toward him.

An unsung plea.

So unlike me.

Or maybe…maybe this was me.

Maybe for the first time, I was courageous enough to explore it. To chase it, like Emily had said. Even when it terrified me.

Blue eyes flared.

His fingers dipped even lower, his touch not quite making contact with the scar forever marked on my chest.

Like he’d gone on the hunt for it.

“Sweet Thing,” he grated.

I could almost taste the rage that seeped from his spirit. The way it tightened his muscles.

His teeth clenched.

He knew of the scar’s existence.

Hell, the whole world was aware of the calling card Cory Douglas had left on his victims. The way he’d signed himself on our skin as if we were possessions.

Half of it had been exposed when I’d worn my bridesmaids’ dress for Emily and Royce’s wedding six months ago. On the night this man had danced and danced with me and made me fall a little bit for him right then.

It was an X just above and off to the side of my right breast.

That scar was something I had been working on overcoming.

Learning not to cover or hide like I was written in shame.

It was a reminder of why I was doing what I was doing. The reason I would risk it all.

My chest jutted out.

“I’m not afraid,” I whispered.

He would be the first who had touched it other than the doctor who’d patched it up. The one my father had paid to write in my hospital chart that I’d cut myself on broken glass after I’d fallen down the stairs when really Cory had done it after he’d violated me.

Rhys groaned.

It was a pained sound.

Needy, deep, and wholly conflicted.

A shudder ripped through me when he carefully flattened his massive palm over the scar. “Goddess Girl.”

He whispered it, and his nose ran up my jaw and lingered on my cheek.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Me breathing him. Him breathing me.

He brushed the pad of his thumb over the spot.

“Rhys.” A jagged whimper left me.

“Maggie.” Caution danced on his lips. I got the sense the man was trying not to snap.

“I’m not afraid.”

It was a lie, but I wanted it to be our truth.

To give into this.

Grief flashed across his face.

A streak of the pain that was so clear to me.

“You should be.”

I didn’t get to argue before the shrill ring of my phone lit up the room, even more obnoxious than normal where it echoed off the stark marble counter.

Rhys went stumbling back like he’d been caught red-handed in the most treacherous of acts.