Page 49 of Until the Stars Fall

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t interested in more.” He cleared his throat and dropped the smile, holding my gaze. “But Gemma, you put me wherever in your life you want to, and I’ll respect it.”

The look in his eyes laid his soul bare to me, vulnerable and honest. Maybe I would play the fool.

I took the bottle from him and set it on the counter. He stood up straighter, put his hands back against the edge of the counter, looking down at me curiously. I was hooked. I took a step closer, my face tipped up to his.

His presence was magnetic, and my heart beat stronger, all the surfaces of my skin electrified just being near him. I was the tide to his moon, and his gravity pulled me closer, a breath apart. He tilted his head, lips parted, glancing from my eyes to my lips. It took my breath away.

I slipped my hand along his jawline, fingernails through his beard, and I kissed him. Stood on my toes to wrap my arm around his neck as he melted against me, kissing me gently back. His hands settled warm on my hips—a perfect fit—and everything else fell away. Our auras melded with an electrified thrumming of belonging, transforming into something new and different, something real and palpable.

I broke the kiss, and he pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes dark and desirous. He was delicious, and now that I’d had another taste, my mouth was shaped for him, and hunger twinged low in my belly.

I went back for more, my arms encircling his neck to get my body closer to his, our kisses deeper, hungrier. He was the perfect blend of science and spirit, pheromones and enchantment, both existing in one earthly body I couldn’t get close enough to. My back arched, and I softly ground my hips against his. He made a soft mmmm in his throat and leaned over me, enveloping me in his arms, his thigh slipping between my legs, his hands across my back and backside, pressing me closer to his hips.

Magic laced the hormones racing through my veins, revving up my desire, the soul inside me yearning for the spark of spirit in his eyes as we broke away, looked into each other’s eyes, and fell into more passionate kissing. Both could exist while his mouth devoured me, trailing hot down my neck; both sides could thrive, neither disproving the other. The universe was vast and mysterious, and as his thumb skimmed along the side of my breast, nothing was black or white, right or wrong. Everything was an electrifying array of colors, and I wasn’t going to question it.

I was half crazed with desire, and I could feel his frenzy rising too. Our arms, hands, and hips, leveraged for closer positions. Our hands explored, tugged and squeezed. Our mouths latched and broke away, roving for new slivers of skin to kiss. We took distracted, rushed steps out of the kitchen.

He pressed warm kisses against my breastbone, and I unbuttoned his shirt. His fingers found my zipper and slid it down.

He shrugged off his shirt as I tugged at the wrists of my dress, pulling it off and baring my breasts, letting the dress fall to my ankles where I kicked it off.

He breathed out, crushing me to him, skin to skin, his hands skimming across my back as his mouth nipped and kissed at my neck. I slid my hands along the muscles of his shoulders, dug my hand in his hair to bring his kisses closer. Up on my tiptoes to drape my arms around his neck again, I sighed at the delicious shivers his kisses sent through my body, delighted by the blissful warmth of his broad, bare chest pressing against my breasts. His strong arms encircled me, both comforting and intoxicating. He captured my mouth again and slipped his hands down to squeeze my bottom, and I hopped up into his arms, wrapping my legs tight around his waist.

He rumbled a deep groan and set me on top of the table, and I squeezed my legs tighter, bringing him closer, not able to get his clear desire for me close enough to my core, even through his thin dress pants.

He pressed his forehead against mine. “Do you want to make love?” he asked, his voice deep and ragged against my lips, his eyes searching my face.

He was worlds above any man in my past.

“Yes,” I breathed, sliding my hands up his broad shoulders and pulling his mouth back to mine.

He captured my mouth in a soul-stumbling kiss, slow, whole-hearted, brimming with passion, cupping my face with both hands. Pausing, I felt, to lay bare his intention: to make something of substance, to make love, and not just satisfy a physical whim. It was reverent and sweet, and it made me want him more.

He climbed onto the table, still kissing me as he lay me beneath him. Tarot cards—my past, present, and future—stuck to the damp skin of my back. He slipped his fingers against my belly, under the top of my panties, and I lifted my hips to let him pull them off. Then he was back above me, one hand beside my head on the table, the other skimming rough fingertips across my eyebrow, cupping my face in a kiss. He trailed languorous kisses in a straight line from my lips to the valley between my breasts as his fingertips trailed down my neck and chest. He captured one breast in his hand, and the other in his hot, pinching mouth. I cried out his name and wrapped my legs around his back, desperate to get at the sweet aching between my legs that only intensified with each flick of his tongue and nip of his teeth. I twisted my fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth closer. He smelled like incense and engine smoke, and he was burning me up.

He kissed my mouth again, his hand still tormenting me. “Fuck, Gemma,” he breathed against my neck. “You’re so gods-damn beautiful. Beautiful face.” He kissed my cheek, the edges of my lips, down my neck. “Beautiful breasts.” His mouth found one again, and my breath hitched. “Beautiful belly,” he breathed, splaying his hand low across it, caressing it as he came back to kiss my lips. “And beautiful...” his hand moved lower and lower down my belly, “...here.” His hand slipped between my legs, dipping his fingers where I wanted him the most, sweeping them in a perfect circle.

“Beck,” I whimpered, digging my fingers into his broad shoulders.

He chuckled. “I think I can make you moan louder than that.” He abruptly took his hand away and scooped me up, slipping off the edge of the table with me in his arms.

He carried me like I weighed nothing, my bare thighs hooked on his hips, his hands on my bottom as I pressed my nakedness against his stomach, his lips buried in my neck. Tarot cards popped off my skin and fell to the floor, and he stumbled on the rug, cussing, on his way to the bed.

He laid me down and quickly pulled off his pants while I lay back on my elbows, watching him. I gazed hungrily down his exquisite nakedness, admiring how the muscles of his broad chest shifted as he stalked me. Now I saw where the dark hair below his navel led, and my breath caught in wanton hunger.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Perfect,” I breathed, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth and reaching my hand down to his backside to bring him closer to me. All the impressive, rigid length and breadth of him pressed warm against my lower belly like iron. I wrapped my legs around him, reached my hand down to grasp him, desperate to get him inside me, but he slipped out of my hands, skimmed his arousal down past my thighs, kissing my neck. Clamping his hot mouth against my breast, teasing me with his tongue and teeth before kissing down my belly, his hands full of my breasts. He ran his tongue along the tender line where my inner thigh met my torso, dropping kisses there, and I gasped.

He slid his hands down to my hips and pulled me suddenly down to the foot of the bed. I laughed, throwing my arms up in surprise, but then he pulled me until my bottom was just at the edge, and he kneeled down and hooked my thighs on his shoulders.

I had a half-second to fret about not having showered first before his hot mouth latched onto the bundle of nerves between my legs. I cried out, twisting my sheets in my hands as his tongue skimmed lazy circles, sucking me softly, flicking his tongue across me, until I thought I would die of the pleasure.

My magic stirred, and my whole body stiffened. But he slipped his hand along my thighs and gently pushed my hips back down to the bed. “Relax,” he breathed against me.

I willed all the tension out of my body and surrendered to his ministrations. For an eternity, his hot mouth sucked at the bud of me, his tongue flicking across and lazing in circles, building me, building me. His fingers slipped inside me, and intense pleasure swelled until I thought I’d burst.

My magic built inside me too, ready to explode. I tensed, started to sit up. “Beck, my magic. It’s—”

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