When Stars Collide (Light in the Dark 2)

“What if it’s a squirrel?” he counters.

I gasp and flick my ice cream at him, and it lands on the side of his face. “Our fictional baby isn’t a squirrel.”

His eyes widen. “Did you flick ice cream at my face?”

I smile sheepishly. “Sorry—heat of the moment and all that jazz.”

He’s not listening to my weak excuse, though. Instead, he slings ice cream at me and it lands in my hair. I look down at the blob of ice cream and lone blue M&M then back up at him.

“Oh, it’s on.”

And then we’re slinging ice cream at each other. Our laughter fills the air and ice cream goes everywhere, but for the moment, we don’t care about the mess, because the joy is in the now and the rest can wait until later.

Sticky ice cream sticks to my skin and I should probably be cringing at that fact, but I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun than I am right now so it doesn’t matter. Xander’s just as much of a mess as me, with ice cream stuck in his hair, dirtying his clothes, and even some stuck in the scruff on his cheeks. We run out of ice cream and our cups fall to the floor. The only sound in the space of the truck is our breathing and we stare at each other as the temperature rises.

I think I move first, leaning my body over the center console and wrapping my hands around his neck, drawing him close to me.

I press my lips to his and he groans low in his throat. His hand finds my waist and he tries to get as close to me as possible. My hands move to his face and stick slightly from the drying ice cream. He angles my head back, sweeping his tongue into my mouth. My whole body ignites with desire and he pulls me onto his lap. The space is cramped, but neither of us seems to notice.

His fingers press into my hips with enough pressure that I won’t be surprised to find bruises in those spots in the morning.

We’re so lost in each other that we don’t even realize someone’s knocking on the window of the truck. It takes a loud smack of their hand and for them to yell, “Hey!” before we notice them.

The McDonald’s employee glares at us like we’re ruining her day. I wonder if it’s the same one that was scared by my use of the word vagina.

Xander reluctantly rolls down the window.

“You guys need to go.” She glares. “Or we’re going to call the cops,” she warns.

Xander nods. “We’ll go.”

She stands there, waiting for us to do just that, and Xander

lifts me off his lap onto the other seat, looks pointedly at the McDonald’s employee, and puts the truck in reverse.

Once we’re out of the parking lot I dissolve into laughter. “That was the best. I thought she might throw a rock or something at us.”

“Rock throwing amuses you?” He glances at me with a smile.

“Not actual rock throwing, just the figurative kind.”

He chuckles. “Uh-huh,” he says, tightening his hand on the wheel. I can’t help but notice the vein running up his arm and the firm set of his jaw, and suddenly I’m completely turned on again.

“I want to kiss you again,” I whisper. I want to do a lot more than kiss him, but I’m scared to say the words out loud—terrified of his reaction, which is stupid, I know.

He glances at me and the heat in his eyes is unmistakable. “I better drive faster then,” he says, and his eyes flick quickly over my face, zeroing in on my lips, before he glances back at the road.

I wiggle uncomfortably in the seat, my bare legs sticking to the ice-cream-covered seats.

When we arrive home, we tumble from the car and into the house. I drop the bag with Prue’s stuff on the counter and before I can turn around, I feel Xander’s hand on my waist. He flips me around and his other hand delves into my hair

His lips latch onto mine and he kisses me slow, but deep. We’re not in a mad rush like we were in the car and that turns me on even more.

He backs me up until my butt hits the counter and then he lifts me up and I sit on the edge of it. The added height puts me closer to his and he doesn’t have to stretch down as far. I wrap my arms around his neck and my breasts push into his chest. A small moan leaves me when his hands edge slightly up my thighs where my dress has ridden up.

He moves his lips down my neck and my whole body arches, giving him further access. “Shower,” I pant. “We should shower.”

He stops what he’s doing and pulls away, his body language suddenly cold. I’m surprised by the sudden change. “Oh,” he says solemnly, and from that one word alone, I know he thinks I’ve used that as an excuse to stop things. He goes to step back but I grab ahold of his shirt and tug. He looks at me with a raised brow, waiting for me to explain.