Kiss the Stars (Falling Stars #1)(95)

So instead, I backed out of the room, still facing him. The man met me step for step. As if I had become the lure. The bait. What he couldn’t resist.

He pulled the kids’ door shut behind him, leaving it open and inch, and then he stalked toward me in a slow, purposed stride.

Jaw hard.

Eyes severe.

Heart beating so hard I could hear it going pound, pound, pound.

The drumbeat of us.

I eased deeper into my bedroom, and the man edged forward, the shape of him becoming an inky silhouette. My eyes barely adjusted, focused on him.

Face carved of that hardened stone. Brittle yet strong.

His head canted to the side, and something close to despair came from his mouth. “You got me, Mia. You fucking got me.”

Confusion spun, but I was trapped in the web of his complicated mind. My head shook to let him know I didn’t understand what he was saying.

He released a soft, seductive laugh. The man stepped forward, burning up my body when he placed his hand on my cheek and brushed the pad of his thumb over it.

Fire flashed.

His voice softened to a plea. “You got me.”

His tongue darted out to sweep across his plush, full lips, his hand twitching on my face.

A slow intensity built in the air.

But this?

It was different than ever before.

Bigger and bolder and stronger.

Reaching out, I caressed my fingertips over the thrumming of his broken, beautiful heart. “You already had me.”

His throat bobbed, and he moved down to grab the hem of my tank.

Slowly, he peeled the fabric over my head, those eyes never releasing me from their grip the whole time.

Goosebumps raced.

A flashfire across my flesh.

Leif edged in, that gaze on me, before he dipped down and kissed across my shoulder.

A moan rippled free, and my hands curled into his hair. “You have me.”

Then he was kissing me everywhere.

Every exposed inch.

But where he normally consumed, he savored.

Featherlight brushes of his lips and tiny peeks of his tongue.

Relishing.

Adoring.

Different.

This perfection that wound me up so tight I could no longer see.

Desire crashed and pulsed and engulfed.

My love for him inundated the space.

Maybe he felt it, couldn’t resist it, because he was mumbling these words that sounded liked confessions.

“Need you.”

“Want you.”

“You are everything.”

“Perfect.”

“What have you done?”

He flicked the button of my shorts, pushed them to the ground, and lay me out across my bed.

He stood at the end of the mattress.

Gazing down.

I arched and shivered.

Whimpered his name.

He shucked out of his clothes.

Bare.

Magnificent.

All I could see.

All I could imagine.

A future spread out in front of us.

My spirit flooded with him.

Overflowing when he crawled over me and wedged himself between my thighs.

When he took me.

When he filled me.

And I completely drowned when he pressed his mouth softly to mine and murmured his oath, “I love you, Mia West, and I’m never going to let you go.”



We stared at each other where we lie in my bed. Fingers twined. Hearts meshed.

My mind still dizzy with his confessions, and my body still swimming in his love.

Brown-sugar eyes deepened, a frown denting his brow.

“What is it?” I asked, voice quieted to a whisper.

He swept his fingertips along my hairline. “Not sure how to navigate this.”

“Us?”

His nod was uncertain. “Yeah, us. This. Everything we’ve got goin’ against us.”

A smile fluttered across my lips. “I’m thinking we have more going for us than against us. We just have to stop fighting the current.”

His mouth tipped up at the side, and he ran his knuckles down my cheek. “No use fighting it when I’m in too deep and there’s no way for me to stand.”

I skimmed my fingers down his jaw. “We just have to promise to hold each other up.”

He cast me a soft, heartbreaking grin. “Hope floats?”

“It does.” I chewed at my bottom lip, cautious but knowing we couldn’t continue to live behind the walls. “Is that what you’re feeling? Hope?”

He smoothed his palm down my bare shoulder and arm, chasing the shivers he elicited, gliding all the way down until he threaded our fingers together. He brought our hands up between us, fiddling with them like he needed a distraction while he searched for the truth inside.

“Scared to.”

His expression moved through so many things.

His grief.

His regret.

The possibility.

His lips pursed for a beat. “It’s hard for me to accept this isn’t wrong. To believe I’m not stealing what should never be mine.”

A swell of sadness coiled in my stomach.

“I know it’s scary. I’m scared, too. And I know it’s not the same. Not at all. But I think somehow . . . somehow, we were purposed for this. For this second chance.”