Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars #4) - A.L. Jackson Page 0,52

burrowing farther into my hold, and I carried her back through the darkness and into my room.

I managed to pull back the covers while still holding onto her, and I laid her in the middle of my bed.

So beautiful where she sighed and relaxed.

Her muscles unwinding.

I hadn’t realized she’d been holding anything in her fist until her fingers loosened, and I got a glimpse of what she clutched like a lifeline.

I leaned in to get a better look.

A duck.

A worn origami duck.

Guessed it was confusion and sadness that trickled through me.

This girl so strong.

Hanging on to something I didn’t quite understand and understanding it the same.

I leaned in and gently curled her fingers back around it, tucked it to her chest.

On a sigh, she whispered, “Stay with me.”

And there was nothin’ I could do.

Nothing I could do but crawl in beside her.

Wholly reckless.

Completely irresponsible.

I wrapped her in my arms like that was where she belonged.

All that sweet against all my brash.

“I’ve got you, Sweet Thing. I’ve got you.”

Yeah.

I knew better.

Clearly.

But right then, I didn’t fuckin’ care.

Fourteen

Maggie

Day broke at the edge of the world. The slightest hue of it rose over the ocean and bled through the sheer drapes that covered the balcony doors. It cast the room in darkened shadows that danced and flickered over the walls.

The room might have been blanketed in a slow glow of warmth, but my body—my body was drenched in heat.

Strong, strong arms were wrapped around me. In them, I felt no fear.

No need to cower. No need to hide. No need to fight.

My spirit was lulled into peace, though in the middle of that peace, everything raced.

Hope shouted so loudly in my ears, you’d think it’d wake the entire house.

But that silence held fast, and I barely dared to move in worry that it might break the enchantment.

Still, I got brave and let my fingertips curl a little farther into the skin of his shoulder, and I inhaled a little deeper where my nose was burrowed in the wide width of his massive chest.

His heart beat this steady thrum, thrum, thrum, and his even breaths covered me like a dream.

Beneath the sheets, we were tangled.

Souls and bodies.

Nerves fluttered and sped when I realized the full extent of that tangling.

My stomach was in knots, and my fingers kept twitching in a way I couldn’t control.

My spirit was held in a moment that felt momentous. Like I was on the cusp of a new understanding. Of discovering a part of me that had been absent for too long.

The man only wore his underwear, and I was in the same tank and sleep shorts I’d had on last night.

Sometime during the night, I’d wedged my leg between both of his.

Now, the rigid length of him was pressed to the top of my thigh.

Hard and huge.

The knots in my belly tightened and pulled and pressed.

Every part of me felt needy and achy.

Bigger than normal.

Denser.

As if I were missing something and everything I needed was right there, begging me to reach out and take it.

His breaths tickled through his beard and breezed into my hair.

I kept trying to keep my breaths as even as his, but my pulse stuttered and sped.

Mostly because that spot between my thighs throbbed just as fiercely as my heart.

Somewhere in the abyss of sleep, Rhys Manning rubbed himself against my thigh.

I nearly came undone right then, a gasp raking up my throat and my entire body pitching in his direction.

He groaned a sound that shuddered through me like greed. “Goddess Girl,” he muttered.

I gave into the ache that was taking me over, and I rubbed myself against him in return.

A kick of pleasure hit me.

Not nearly enough but the best thing I’d ever felt. In response, those massive arms tightened and tucked me closer to that magnificent body.

It made me bold.

Like a new dichotomy had been written on my consciousness.

Brazen and shaky.

Courageous and apprehensive.

This time when I rubbed against him, almost every part of me was involved.

My breasts sliding against the delicious hardness of his chest and that ache between my legs seeking release against his massive, muscular thigh.

Sparks lit.

A rush of severity.

A flood of desire.

A shallow, needy breath escaped my throat.

Rhys rocked against me, moaning low. The sound of him tumbled down my spine like a straight shot of need.

It was me who made the move. I was the one who shifted us until he was on his back and I was straddling him.

The sheets fell around my waist, and I stared down