Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

She wore a sundress that struck in the night with that stunning face tipped up to the heavens. Like she was seeking its wisdom.

Offering it her prayers and her hopes and her fears.

A goddess beneath the stars.

It was no secret I wasn’t exactly the type who got an A+ for good behavior.

But I was pretty sure I was scraping the bottom of the barrel on this one. Tossing all good intention out the window.

Because I was moving.

Drawn.

Overpowered.

Overcome.

I was out my door and down the stairs and stealing into the night before my brain could catch up to my spirit that had met her somewhere in our dreams.

She dipped her toes in the rushing waves.

That energy crackled and lashed.

Zapped all logic and rationale.

Because I was standing twenty feet behind her, and the girl froze in awareness before she looked at me from over her delicate shoulder. Black hair whipping around her gorgeous face.

Charcoal eyes doing that mesmerizing thing.

A lightning storm that coaxed me right into tranquility.

Tracing me in chaos and comfort.

Like I was at peace with the coming destruction.

Her need was palpable.

Her adoration real and unfounded and the best thing I’d felt in all my life.

“Maggie.” I said her name like greed.

For two beats, we stared.

And then she was runnin’ toward me.

Just as I was moving for her.

In a flash, she was in my arms and off her feet.

And I didn’t know if she was kissing me or I was kissing her.

Only thing I knew?

It was pure fuckin’ ecstasy.

Twenty-One

Maggie

We crashed.

No hesitation.

No reserve.

Rhys lifted me into the strength of those arms just as his mouth crushed against mine.

Warmth and blinding light.

Like all the stars that glittered in the sky flashed and gleamed. Filled the air with a blast of intensity.

A shockwave of electricity that streaked through the night.

His mouth moved in a desperate bid to claim, his lips covering mine as they pressed and pulled and gave.

Gentle plucks and hungry nips and, oh my god, Rhys Manning was kissing me.

My head spun and my pulse raced as I turned myself over to the moment.

It wasn’t even close to being awkward or tentative.

It was power. It was purpose. It was the most decadent sort of persuasion.

He rode a hand up my back and fisted it in my hair, while the other arm locked around my waist to keep me held firm against the rigid expanse of muscles that flexed and bowed across his massive body.

My arms curled around his neck as he hoisted me higher, and I offered him all I had to give.

In a single kiss, the man cut my heart wide open. Or I guessed it’d already been. Cracked and fractured and splintering into his big, capable hands.

Now he was there to allow me to pour it all into him.

Fingers gripping his hair like I needed something to keep me grounded, to keep me from floating away, I let the tip of my tongue sneak out to taste his mouth.

It was the barest touch.

It didn’t matter.

It was bliss. So much bliss.

It rocketed and shook and spun us into a frenzy.

Rhys moaned my name. “Maggie.” The sound was a needy reverberation against my lips as his moved over mine. Brushing and caressing and almost terrified to take more. “Maggie. Sweet Siren. Fuck, baby. What have you done? What have you done?”

An earthquake of emotion sheared through me.

It slicked down my spine and quivered through my being.

Shattering.

Shifting.

Like all the missing pieces were righting themselves.

His arms tightened, and my legs constricted around his waist, and I was rubbing myself over the taut planes of his ripped abdomen.

“Maggie. Sweet Thing. Goddess Girl.” He whispered the words like praise. Like a warning as his kiss became more urgent.

As his hands became needier in their search and the air began to pant from his lungs.

And I got the sense that we’d been written in the heavens. That this moment had already been written in time. That it’d been coming for an eternity.

I ground against him.

Sparks lit.

A tremble between my thighs.

No shyness or fear to be found.

My lips parted with the greed that flash-fired through every cell.

“Rhys.”

He took it as a plea for more. The hand in my hair tightened, and a growl rumbled up his thick throat. Angling his head, he licked across my lips.

Heat raced, overwhelming, consuming, and I welcomed it. I opened to him so his tongue could slant against mine in a tangle of greed.

Fire.

Flames.

Everything. Everything.

I gasped and whimpered and struggled to get closer.

I swore I could feel his spirit trying to crawl inside me. That he felt me the way I felt him.

That he knew I could sense his fear. His dread. The guilt he carried like stones.

I wanted to hold each one.

Find a way to his innermost secrets.

Whisper his doubts away so I could show him the man I saw.

“I feel you. In my dreams. I feel you.” Like he was thinking the same thing, his words came as a low rumble against my mouth as he kissed me into a state of delirium.