Kiss the Stars (Falling Stars #1)(26)

Massive hands curled into fists that he looked half a second from throwing through a wall.

I’d wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.

Partly because of the potency of the need that instantly lit, a steady burn that didn’t come close to being slow.

The other half? It’d wanted to disappear. Wilt into nothing. Hide the same way as I’d been doing that night.

But I guessed the problem with that was I kept running into him.

This terrifyingly beautiful man who left no question that he was bad, bad, bad.

Bad for my health and my heart and my sanity.

I jumped ten feet in the air when someone knocked on the door out in the hall.

God.

I really was going to lose it.

Flustered, I smoothed out my hair like it might settle the disorder that rattled through my nerves and rushed through the bedroom to the door in the living area.

I jerked it open.

Tamar was standing on the other side, smirking.

My eyes narrowed. “Why do you look like the cat who ate the canary?”

A whole damned nest of ’em.

Probably baby ones, too.

Her smirk only widened as she waltzed in, her hips swaying side-to-side in her seductive way. I was pretty sure if I attempted it, I’d trip and faceplant into the ground. “I heard our guest arrived.”

I swallowed down the turbulence and forced the words to come out as casual as could be. “Oh yeah. I guess it was about a half an hour ago.”

Thirty-two minutes and seventeen seconds, to be precise.

But who was counting?

She moved into the bedroom where I was staying and flopped onto my bed, releasing a fluttery sigh.

I followed her, wondering what she was up to and knowing it couldn’t be good.

She rolled over onto her side. Blue eyes ridged in perfectly done eyeliner twinkled in mischief. “So . . .” she drew out, scandal injected into the word.

My shoulders heaved in feigned confusion. “So what?”

She got to her knees, way too eager. “So, tell me about him.”

“Um . . . his name is Leif and he’s staying in the guest house and he’s a drummer?” I formed it like a question, like that was all there was to him, nothing more.

Tamar huffed in disbelief, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “Yes, I know his name. Tell me about this whole, ‘he stole your breath the second you saw him’, thing.”

I had to struggle to keep my mouth from dropping open in shock, almost as hard as I had to struggle to make the denial form on my tongue.

The lie.

Because the truth of the matter was he’d ripped the air right out of my lungs. Twice now. I was still finding it difficult to breathe.

“And who in the world told you that?” I asked, forcing the deepest, most innocent frown.

The last thing I needed was her hounding me on this.

Because that night? It was a mistake, and nothing had even happened.

Just five minutes of a man branding his being on me.

The slash of a tattoo in the passing of a hand.

Impossible but true.

“Um . . . my husband . . . aka your overprotective brother. He came into our room ranting and raving about how he wasn’t going to let some drummer who was climbing for the stars to steal and then break his sister’s heart.” She giggled a wry sound. “He told me straight up, ‘One look, and the asshole stole her breath. Not going to let him steal anything else’.”

I almost rolled my eyes.

Tamar did it for me. “I think he thinks he’s protecting your virtue. Poor boy acts like you’re twelve and don’t have two children.”

“He’s just looking out for me.” Why I was sticking up for him in this case, I didn’t really know. But him keeping me away from that man sounded like a pretty fine idea.

Distance.

It was bad enough I had to keep myself from going to the windows and peering out, hoping to catch a glimpse.

A chuckle fell from her sultry lips. “Yeah, and he forgets where we started. The fortresses we’d both had built up around ourselves. We didn’t exactly have the best start. And look where we are now.”

I let a grin pull at my mouth as I moved to the dressing table, taking a brush to run through my hair to give my shaking hands something to do. I looked at her through the mirror. “I’m pretty sure he remembers exactly how you two started.”

She laughed. “I’m sure that is totally the problem. His little sister wouldn’t dare do something so scandalous,” she drawled.

Tossing the brush down, I swiveled around. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

Couldn’t.

Not after that feeling had chased me down for the last week.

Intrigue.

Fascination.

This sensation that I was missing something when I didn’t have it in the first place.

There was no way my mangled heart could take it.

Not when I was looking for a way to fill up a hole when he would only dig it deeper.

Not when I had to spend the entire summer with him living on the other side of the pool.

Not when my mind was entertaining thoughts of more, more, more.

All those what if’s from that morning had hit me from out of nowhere the second I’d seen him standing there, every bit as shocked at seeing me as I was him.

I got the feeling he’d gladly touch me. But there was no chance that bad boy would keep me. And even letting the thought of keeping slip into my mind was enough reason to pretend like he didn’t exist.