Page 109 of Even Beneath the Stars

“And this,” he says, his voice low and quiet in a way that makes me forget how to breathe, "is kind of the total opposite." His fingers adjust controls. Then he leans back slightly, his hand still resting between my shoulder blades as he angles the telescope. “The Trifid Nebula. See how it looks more… messy?”

I press my eye to the lens, and my heart stutters. The view is a swirl of pinks and purples and blues overlapping in a storm of light and shadow.

“It’s a star nursery,” Xavier explains, his hand still warm against my back. “Massive clouds of gas and dust coming together to form new stars. It’s chaotic and messy, but that’s kind of the point. Something about it just feels—”

"…Alive," I finish for him.

His tall frame brushes against my back. "Exactly,” he murmurs.

The swirls seem to move, shifting as though they’re breathing. Untamed.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, then glance at him over my shoulder.

He nods, a faint smile flickering across his face, but there’s something deeper in his expression. “Yeah,” he says softly. Only he isn't looking at the stars. He's looking at me.

He straightens to his full height.

Then the warmth of his hands settles at my hips. His fingers are strong, certain as they guide me to turn, spanning wide enough that they nearly encircle me completely. My heart thumps against my ribs as I face him, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. As close as we were a moment ago, now I can see every detail of his expression in the starlit room.

His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip, slow and deliberate, like he’s weighing his next move. His gaze holds mine for a long, heavy second.

A small gasp catches in my throat as one of his fingers brushes against the strip of bare skin where my pajama top has ridden up. The touch sends electricityracing through my veins, and his finger feels like fire against my skin. My breath catches, trapped somewhere between my lungs and my lips as I look up at him.

My fingers curl into the soft material of his T-shirt without my permission. Whether to steady myself or pull him closer, I'm not sure. The room seems to shrink, narrowing down to just the warmth of his hands and the way his eyes catch the starlight filtering through the dome above us.

"I know that you—" he starts, his voice deep, lower than it usually sounds. "I mean, the third date—the rules…"

"We had our third date." I swallow. "We're on it right now."

He rolls his eyes. "Nah. Don't say that." The pads of his fingers press lightly against my hips. "I fucked up the third—"

I cut him off. "Of all the dates we've been on so far— this one's my favorite."

He inhales, long and deep. "I don't know… I just—"

His gaze lowers, his long lashes hiding his still slightly bloodshot eyes. Then he leans in, dips his head so his breath trails along the length of my neck. His lips brush my skin and… this is nothing like I've ever felt with any guy before. "Fuck," he moans. "I want to kiss you so bad."

His breath traces my jawline; one hand sliding slowly up my spine. There's pressure behind his touch that hints at his need. How much he wants this. How much closer he wants us to be.

And I feel the brush of his lips against my cheek. "Maggs…"

He's so close. And I'm waiting… for his lips to touch mine. For him to kiss me.Finally.

"I need some words here, Maggs," he says, his voice rough against my skin. It tickles and feels amazing at the same time.

"Wh—What? What words?" I have no idea what he's talking about. Is it possible those swirls of stardust and clouds of gas formations hypnotized me somehow?

"I'm pretty sure I'm reading you correctly. But I'm gonna need confirmation… That you're cool with this." His nose skims my cheek. Then his lips. "With me touching you… here." His lips brush the corner of my mouth, sosogently. "This okay?" His hand glides up slowly… slowly along my ribs. Higher. "Yes?" He pauses, his eyes flickering to mine. "No?" He leans back a little.

"Xavier Rockwell." I can't help grinning. "Are you asking for my permission to kiss me?"

He lets out a low, gruff sound. Kind of like a chuckle. "Yeah, Maggs. I'm asking for your permission."

"A gentleman after all, Rockwell?"

His hands slip under the hem of my top, contradicting his words when he says, "I'm always a gentleman."

The jury's out on that one. But it doesn't matter; I'm into this. What's happening between us— after all the barbs and arguments, veiled humor and stalemates that turned into awkward hidden glances and late night conversations and nerdy, awesome first and second and third dates. I'msointo where it all led. Right here. Now. Under the glass-domed ceiling… under the moon and stars and nebula and zillions of other things up there in the night sky I know nothing about, and Xavier knows way more about than his absent father will ever know.

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