Page 115 of Even Beneath the Stars

Maggie

"Hey, funny face. I brought snacks!"

My voice bounces off the glass walls as I step barefoot onto the warm stone Solarium floor. The overhead sconces cast a golden glow across the water, flickering against the ripples of the pool and the glossy curve of the hot tub. Above, the high glass ceiling stretches high, an arched window onto the midnight sky.

Xave's already in the water, arms stretched along the stone ledge, elbows bent, broad shoulders glistening under the low light. His legs extend in front of him, beneath the bubbling water, his damp hair curling slightly at the ends.The scene looks like something out of a dream—or a scene from a movie where the ridiculously rich love interest seduces the protagonist with ambiance alone.

Not that I’d ever let Xavier Rockwell know I’m thinking anything remotely close to that.

We both went up to change into our swimsuits as soon as we got back from the gig, and clearly, the dude is a record fast changer. But then, he didn’t make a detour to the kitchen to load up on a totally excessive amount of candy, chips, and soda like I did.

He lifts a brow as I approach, all lazy smirk and hooded eyes. “There are snacks in here behind the bar,” he says, nodding toward the sleek built-in wet bar just a few feet away. “You didn’t need to—” His words stall as his gaze takes in the sheervolumeof junk food I’ve managed to carry. His lips part slightly. “Holy shit,” he mutters, eyes flicking from the overflowing bags in my arms to my face. “Are you planning on us living in here for the nextweek?”

I laugh, dumping my haul onto one of the marble tables near a cluster of lounge chairs. “I didn’t know what you wanted. And I’m hungry.”

“Hungry? It looks like you just robbed a gas station.”

I shrug, popping the tab on a can of soda and taking a long sip.

There’s something about the way Xavier’s looking at me—relaxed, easy—but alsowatchful. Like he’s not just amused buttaking me in, the way he does when I do something that catches him off-guard.

I clear my throat, grabbing a handful of gummy worms. “So, what’s the verdict?” I toss one up, catching it in my mouth. “Do I stay, or do I need to find a different luxury hot tub to crash in?”

Xavier smirks, stretching lazily in the water, muscles shifting beneath the glow of the sconces. “Definitely stay.” Then he adds. "And bring gummy worms over."

I select a red gummy worm from my palm and hold it up between my thumb and forefinger. "Open up."

Xavier's lips part in response, but he doesn't bother moving any more than that. I toss the candy in a gentle arc. He catches it with a slight backwards tilt of his head, making it look effortless—because of course he does.

Grabbing another one, I launch it without warning. This time he lifts slightly out of the water, stretching his neck to snag it mid-air. The water droplets catch the light as he moves, running down his shoulders.

I lower myself into the steaming water, dangling a gummy worm above his face, then yanking it away each time he stretches up to catch it in his mouth. I'm so focused on keeping the candy just out of his reach that it takes me by surprise when he suddenly surges up out of the water. In one fluid motion, he snags the gummy worm between his teeth, his lips grazing my fingertips in a way that sends electricity shooting through my whole body.

I jump back with a yelp, water splashing. Xavier just grins, gummy worm dangling from his clenched teeth like a trophy, his eyes dancing with mischief. He sits back again, lifting his arm straight up like he's sitting in homeroom, palm out, waiting to be called on. Tiny rivulets trace down the defined curves of his bicep. "Question," he says, half serious, half adorable.

"Yes?" I try not to laugh at his sudden formality. "The stud-muffin in the hot tub has a question?"

"Yeah."

His eyes travel over me slowly, lingering. Heat crawls up my neck that has nothing to do with the steaming water.

"My question is, how do you manage to wear the most butt-ugly clothes and still look insanely gorgeous?"

I gasp in mock outrage, looking down at my vintage cat-print bikini. The pastel pink fabric is covered in cats wearing straw hats, carrying flowers and picnic baskets and butterfly catchers. "Excuse you! This is acollector's item. Lisa Frank would be proud."

"No idea who Lisa Frank is, but I can tell you, she would be horrified," Xavier counters.

"You're just jealous you don't have the confidence to rock radical prancing kitten swimwear." I strike a pose, hand on hip. "This is peak style, Rockwell. Peak. Style."

His eyes darken as they trail over me again, slower this time. "Yeah," he says, voice rough. "Something like that."

Suddenly flushed, I settle into the hot tub across from him, letting the warmth melt the lingering intensity and stress and excitement from the night. Leaning back against the ledge, I stretch my arms out, mirroring Xave's pose—except way lesssmoldering cologne adand moretired gremlin with a sugar stash.

“Alright,” I say, tilting my head toward him. “Let’s talk again about how freaking awesome the gig was tonight and how much people loved all your original tunes.”

Xavier exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head like he’s trying to play it cool, but the smile that spreads across his face gives him away. His eyes dip slightly, a flicker of bashfulness threading through the usual Xavier confidence.

“It was great, huh?” he says, voice light, like he still can’t believe it himself.

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