Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(39)

I wandered into his living room. Over my shoulder, I looked back at him when I realized the disaster I’d stumbled upon last Wednesday had been cleaned.

With his index finger, he scratched at his temple. There was something absurdly endearing about him when he seemed unsure of himself, and another rigid part of my exterior creaked with the pressure.

“Uh…I picked up a bit since the last time you were here.”

Funny how that day seemed a lifetime ago.

I smiled back at him and tried to force a tease as I looked around the space. “Ah…it looks like you need to add Mr. Clean to your list of alter egos…or did you really sneak someone in here to get this place in shape to impress me?”

My smile faded when I looked back again to where he lingered near the door. My head drifted to the side to take him in as his expression shifted through a thousand emotions.

Regret. Sorrow. Lust.

And a longing that nearly brought me to my knees.

Desire trembled through my body.

I wanted to crawl inside him.

To discover every secret.

Even though I got the crushing feeling knowing him would be the end of me.

Cautiously, he edged forward.

Tall.

Beautiful.

Strong.

The air filled up with him. So thick I wasn’t sure I could breathe.

Gently he wound his fingers through my hair. Not so gently he tugged my head back and pinned me with that stare. Slowly he dipped down, my stomach in a thousand blissful knots as he left a dizzying trail of kisses down my neck.

Soft, silken lips.

Little flicks of tongue.

Tingles spread in a wildfire of sensation.

Then his voice was at my ear. Whispering belief. “Blue.”

Blue. Blue. Blue.

She was so scared and unsure and innocently brave. Because she wanted all the things I’d learned the hard way the world didn’t have to give. But she wanted me to fight for them anyway.

Callused fingertips trailed down my sides, and I trembled when they edged under the hem of my shirt. Skin to skin.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice like gravel.

My answer scraped from my throat. “Yes.”

Lyrik pulled my tee over my head, slow but sure.

A cool rush of air sent a rush of chills skating free across the flames. My chest heaved as Lyrik stared down at me in my jeans and bra. Eating me up with that irresistible intensity.

I knew my eyes were wild as I looked up at him. My pulse hammered and my spirit thrashed.

“Blue,” he murmured again as he went down onto his knees. He peeked up at me every few seconds as he worked the bandage free from my side. My belly shook as he peeled the bandage away and exposed the statement that had been etched into my side over my ribs, from my hip bone to just under my arm pit on the left side. And I knew the area needed to be cleaned. But somehow right then, I didn’t care.

I just wanted him to see.

The four simple letters were written in a big, scrolling font, and swirls and flowers extended from the first and last letters.

Rise.

Lightly, he drummed his fingertips over the design, not quite touching the raw skin.

His unyielding gaze latched onto mine. “I think you already have.”

Uneasily, I shook my head. “No…for a year, you’ve been chasing a runner. All I’ve done is hide while pretending I was strong.” A pained breath left me. “But that’s not me, Lyrik. All of this…” I waved my hand over my body, “it’s just a show.”

He pushed to his feet. His body moved in a slight sway. Mine followed. That magnet I couldn’t escape.

I was helpless to this fascinating man.

He placed his palm on my neck, and his thumb traced along my collarbone. “No.”

Obsidian eyes flashed, and he leaned in closer. “This girl…this bold, brave girl. She’s a part of you. I see her. She’s real. Red,” he murmured on a sigh, brushing his lips against mine.

He pulled back to look at my face. “But maybe…maybe you’re just outgrowing that season of your life. Maybe you don’t need her as bad as you used to and now Blue is bleeding through. Maybe she wants to be heard, too. To have a voice in your life.”

Blinking through the tears, I shook my head. “How could you know?”

It wasn’t a rebuttal or defense.

It was concession.

Surrender.

His mouth fell against mine.

Hard.

Unyielding.

His big hands wrapped around me, way up high, heated palms flat at the center of my upper back. Lifting me to him.

I sank all the way in. Into his kiss and his hold and his violently beating heart.

“I don’t know who he is…what he did,” he muttered, the words almost maniacally interwoven with our kiss. He never broke for air. Instead, he was stealing it. Stealing everything. Sanity and light and fear.

“But with me? Your safe word is no. You got that, Blue? None of that playing games bullshit. This…this is real. And if it gets too much…you say it. You say it. All you have to say is no.”

He pulled back, lines carved into his face like a plea. “Do you hear me?”

Affection poured free.

“I hear you.”

My fingers dug into his shoulders because I could no longer stand.

A needy sound slipped up my throat, and he pushed me up against the wall.