Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(94)

My eyes wandered, just as greedily as my hands as I touched and explored, drunk on freedom and lust.

My spirit unchained.

Shackles released.

Callused fingertips trailed over the warped heart imprinted on my chest. Translating. Communicating.

Guard your heart.

It was his.

I shivered with his kiss that was just as cautious when he pressed it there.

Oh God. This man.

I arched up on my knees to meet him, my hands fisted in his hair. His mouth moved delicately across the lacy fabric of my bra, his breath like a warm caress across my skin.

A tiny mewl slipped from between my lips and I held him tighter. Closer as he licked then softly sucked.

The need to know him was greater than it’d ever been. His dark, dark spirit taking on shape and form. It snuffed out the air until the only thing I knew was him.

I slid my palms over both his shoulders, slipping down his arms. Across the designs. The pads of my fingers played across the song on his left arm and over the name hidden there.

Tell me who you are.

The question begged at my tongue, but was silenced by his when he suddenly moved to capture my mouth. Hand on the back of my head, he tilted his to the side, kissing me deeper, carrying me away into his twilight.

Tell me who you are.

Lyrik scooped me from the floor and carried me to his bed. He laid me in the middle, never letting me go as he climbed over me.

Enclosing and surrounding and engulfing.

But where Lyrik and I normally lit, we smoldered.

His movements were controlled. Purposed. He edged back, never releasing me from the grip of his gaze as he lifted me by the ankle and unzipped my boot, turned and did the same to the other.

That bold, beautiful body inched forward to flick at the buttons on my jeans, my pulse going wild as I was eclipsed by his shadow.

A sigh puffed from between my lips as I lifted my hips to help him.

He dragged them down, taking my underwear with them.

“Blue,” he whispered at my belly, hand palming the apple on my thigh.

“What have you done? What have I done?” It was all a jumbled whir, lost to the energy.

I shuddered, pinned to his bed by the weight of his intensity. His severity so dense and dominant I felt our spirits coalesce.

There was nothing but us.

My head spun, dizzy on this feeling.

Light. Light. Light.

He was suddenly over me, that beautiful body bare, guiding himself into me.

Whole.

Never before had I felt so whole.

He gripped me by the back of the neck, our chests pressed close, the thunder of our hearts the only quickening in the room.

He rocked forward, slow and somehow desperate.

A soft moan fluttered from between my lips.

Those bottomless eyes latched onto mine in the darkness, his mouth a breath from mine.

He pinned my wrists over my head.

His body worked a steady beat, a frenzy barely kept at bay.

A raging storm contained.

Our pants leapt into the air.

“Lyrik,” I gasped out.

He swayed and pitched, buried his face in my neck as he released my wrists. My arms were around him, holding him close as he rocked and drove and pled. “Blue…what have you done? What have you done?”

“Lyrik…please…” It was a petition unnecessary, because I was already rising to the top where pleasure gathered fast.

“Blue.”

My body stretched tight beneath him as I came undone.

Lost.

Where I floated in the darkest skies. Where I drifted through clouds that rumbled their threat. Where I glided through the danger of this building storm.

The buzz before the strike.

Lyrik jerked and his mouth dropped open, this volatile boy clinging to me. Unhinged. Fingers dug into my skin.

Almost painfully, the words came from his mouth like distress.

“You sing my soul.”

So quiet.

Yet deafening.

You sing my soul.

Everything froze. The spin of the room and the hammer of my heart and the panicked boy who lay stock-still on top of me.

It was unmistakable.

The grief that suddenly poured into the room, seeping from his pores and from the shattered breaths from his lungs.

“What did you say?” I didn’t mean for it to come out so needy, but I couldn’t stop it from fleeing the confines of my mouth.

Because I needed to know.

I tried to edge him back. To see his face.

He jerked his head to the side. Jaw rigid. Throat tight.

Still refusing to look at me, he slowly rolled out of bed.

Nothing was said as he slipped on his underwear and jeans, the silence suffocating as he buttoned them.

He snatched his shirt from the floor and yanked it over his head.

The whole time I lay there with his sheet clutched to my chest. Shocked. Stunned. Both joyed and terrified.

“What did you say?” I begged again.

“Nothin,” he mumbled with a rake of his hand through that dark hair.

I clamored off the bed. “Don’t tell me it was nothing when we both know it was something.”

He looked at me. Hard and furious. “Said it was nothin’. Drop it.”

I grabbed his arm. “Lyrik.”

He shook me off and headed for the door.

What the hell?

I dressed as fast as I could, on his heels as I chased him down the stairs.