Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(40)
I poured a glass of water from the state-of-the-art filtration system on the marble counter and sat at the dining room table to drink it. My fastidious nature fixated on the sprawl of papers. They begged to be gathered up.
Stop. Don’t touch other people’s stuff.
Minutes passed and Connor didn’t come back. I sipped my water, then sat on my hands. The mess on the table was making me itchy. I pulled a few papers together, glancing at an essay on Macroeconomics, Connor’s name and date at the top. This was all his work. He wouldn’t mind if I straightened it. We were dating, after all…
Class handouts. Articles. Loose pages with handwritten lines of text, arrows to notes in the margin, a few doodles.
I sighed. What was Connor talking about with his parents?
I went on gathering papers into piles and my eye pulled a few lines off one scribbled page, half-hidden beneath another:
Without you,
The hours stretch
I glanced around the empty apartment. Connor’s muffled voice came from the other room, still sounding in the middle of a conversation, not wrapping one up.
Be patient and mind your business, I thought.
I made it all of six seconds before I slid the paper free and read what was there. A poem. The handwriting was a scratchy scrape of the pen, with sharp lines and angles. The words burned hot off the page.
Without you,
The hours stretch
into suffocating days;
gasping through nights
in sweated sheets
eyes squeezed shut
your name locked behind
my clenched teeth
grasping at relief
until you’re here
and I
can breathe again
and I
can bask again
in the shifting colors
of your gaze;
gold, green, and brown—
your namesake captured
in your eyes.
My face tingled hot, then cold, then hot again. The poem infused me, each line bending and flowing and breathing into the next, creating one fluid sensation. I didn’t see individual words. I felt the whole, like staring at a painting. But the last three lines stood out, demanded I read them again and again.
gold, green, and brown—
your namesake captured
in your eyes.
“My namesake?” I murmured.
“Hey, sorry about that.”
I jerked my head up, staring, the paper slack in my hand. Connor stopped midstride into the living area, his brows furrowed in concern for me.
“Are you okay?”
I rose to my feet. “Is this yours?” I offered him the poem.
Connor took the paper, and his eyes scanned it. “Oh this. This is…” He glanced up at me quickly and handed the poem back. “I mean, it’s nothing.”
“Did you write it? For me?”
He stared at me, a thousand thoughts behind his eyes. His chin lifted the tiniest bit, then lowered.
“You wrote this about me?”
His smile was weak and his gaze slid away, to the floor, the table, then back to me. “I never know what to say when you’re standing right in front of me. Still don’t.”
“God, Connor,” I laughed and sighed with relief at the same time. “This is exactly why I’m here. What I wanted to tell you…is that you can talk to me. Whatever you’re thinking, I want to hear it. I need to hear it. All your thoughts and ideas and dreams. They’re as important to me as being with you. I mean…” I held up the sheet of paper again. “Do you want…this?”
“I want…” He swallowed hard, his voice firming. “I want to be with you. That…” He jerked his chin at the paper in my hand. “That’s what I want. With you.”
A warmth spread through my chest, down to my stomach, washing away the tight knot there. I went to him and ringed my arms around his neck.
“I can’t be casual,” I said. “I wish I could, but I’m not built that way. And that poem…” I shook my head, the warmth heating toward something more. “It’s not casual. It’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said, and kissed me, holding my body to the strong wall of his. His lips trailed down my throat. “And I don’t want casual. I want you to stay.”
“I do too,” I breathed, clinging to him, my fingers sinking into his hair. “I think I just needed a little something more from you. Does that sound totally crazy?”
“No.” He kissed the hollow of my throat, and then raised his head to look at me. “I have a lot to give, Autumn. I promise.”
I stroked his cheek. “I know you do. And I wish your parents could see that too.”
Connor’s expression shifted, hardening into something fierce and full of want. His arms around me tightened and he kissed me hard, wide-mouthed and demanding. I took it in, dizzy with him and the words now burned into my brain. I kissed back just as hard, as if I could siphon off the poetry in him.
He lifted me off the ground, never breaking our kiss and carried me to his bedroom, to his king-sized bed where he laid me down. My clothes melted away under his deft hands, and I surrendered myself to his expert machinations in every way.
In sweated sheets…
We tore his bed apart, voracious, as Connor’s body on mine—so heavy and thick above me and inside me—worked me into a delirium.