Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

To understand this man.

To give in.

To jump.

I felt myself right there, teetering on that precipice.

I rolled over him, his penis pressed hard against me. I gasped, wanting to do it again and again.

“Fuck, Mags. What are you doin’?”

It was a rumble of warning in the air.

A plea of need.

My answer was rocking against him again.

Huge hands flew to my waist, gripping on, so big I thought he could circle me all the way around.

And I knew I wanted every pleasure he had to offer.

No fear left because I’d found myself in the storm. And I thought…maybe…maybe I’d found the one who’d been purposed to meet me in the middle of it. The one who could hold me in the darkness and stand with me in the light.

“Rhys.” His name left me on my own question.

My eyes dragged down the burly, brawny expanse of him, from those eyes that saw so deep, across his chest, over his rippling abdomen, and down to his waist.

To where his cock pressed fat and full at his underwear. The fabric strained under the pressure.

Desire tumbled down my spine and dumped into my belly and sent a roll of shivers racing beneath my skin.

Hands shaking out of control, I set them on the cut, defined lines of his stomach, and I gave myself over to whatever he would give.

Angled myself so I could writhe against him a little better.

A groan rolled up his thick throat, those blue eyes close to midnight, the hands on my waist cinching down tighter.

“Sweet Thing…we shouldn’t do this,” he grated through clenched teeth, though he had hold of my waist, guiding me in the tiniest of brushes and rocks.

It didn’t matter.

It was enough friction to light a wildfire.

For him to show me that we should.

“Please, Rhys. I want to experience this with you. I’ve…”

I trailed off. Not wanting to say it aloud. Knowing he got it, anyway.

That this was the first time I’d ever felt safe with a man.

That being with him made me feel like I was treasured. Like I could trust.

My tongue darted out to swipe across my bottom lip, the words a rasp, “Would you want it, Rhys? Would you want me if there was no one around to tell us we shouldn’t? If we had no pasts holding us back? If it were pretend? Would you want it? Would you want me then?”

I wondered how I was even getting the words loose of my tongue. The way my mouth was dry from the blaze that consumed every inch. The way my heart tremored and sped because I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.

That he was touching me, and I was touching him, and I wanted it.

God, I wanted it.

Rhys shot upright, one hand twisting in my hair, both desperately and gently, the other arm banding around my waist like he was going to be the one to hold me up.

“Would I want you? Fuck, Maggie. Don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life. Not the way I want you.”

We were rocking. Rubbing against each other with way too many clothes separating us.

I wanted no barriers.

No obstacles.

“Pretend with me.”

He gave a harsh shake of his head. “No, Sweet Thing, no pretending with you. Please don’t ask that of me.”

Sorrow passed through his features when he begged it. Blurred by the haze of lust that billowed through the room on dense, sagging clouds.

Mist that obscured and danced with the shadows.

“I can’t pretend, either. Can’t pretend that you don’t make me want this.”

My fingertips scraped his chest. Trembles followed along behind my touch, and his breaths turned ragged as he sucked for air the farther I went. I made it all the way to the elastic band of his underwear.

I pressed up on my knees so I could whisper in his ear, “You make me feel alive. You make me feel right. You make me believe.”

I brushed my fingertips over the straining length of him.

He twitched.

Nerves shocked between us.

Sparks and flames.

His hand shot to my wrist. “Goddess Girl. No. We can’t go there. Told you, only thing I’m good for is a good time. Not gonna muck you up like that. Wait for someone who can love you right. Wholly. Fully. Way you deserve to be.”

We were still rocking, though.

The slightest movements.

His knuckles brushing my shorts between my trembling thighs.

I wanted to beg him to explore if maybe that could be him. Tell him we’d both been broken, and maybe we could find a way to hold the fractured pieces for the other.

Promise I wanted to heal him, too.

But I could see the grief stricken in the depths of his eyes. His fear greater than mine.

We kept moving.

Our gasps whispered in the air.

The desire for each other refusing to give up.

Those heavy, throbbing places growing in their need.

I knew he felt it.