Page 30 of Stargazer

Why were drinks always spilling on me around this guy?

Hey!” Mum chimed, clearly offended.

“Sorry mum. But they have this unnecessarily expensive machine. Our coffee just doesn’t compete.”

She rolled her eyes—just like a true Stone woman.

Checking the table and floor, I found that all of the coffee had somehow only landed on me, leaving nothing else to clean. My top was drenched and the material was almost see-through.

Why were drinks always spilling on me around this guy?

I started towards the stairs and Griff took my now empty dishes to deposit in the sink. I heard mum scold him for trying to wash up after already cooking us breakfast and then his footsteps echoed mine as he followed me to my room.

Shuffling into my walk-in closet, I stripped off the t-shirt that had the stain on it. Griffin waited somewhere near my bed, taking in all the stuff that made up my room, from the posters and art to the décor and navy sheets, and the piles of books I had laying around.

The lighter colour of my top was already staining. “This is why I hate wearing neutrals,” I grumbled, searching through the draws for something else to wear while simultaneously making a mess of all my neatly packed clothes. Every so often I repacked them all and every so often, when I was in a rush like today, I went and did this all over again, leaving them in heaps until the next time I could be bothered to restart the cycle.

“It smells gross,” I noticed with a grimace.

Griffin’s frame appeared in the doorway of my closet, a silent chuckle spread across his face. “I’m sure it doesn’t. It’s just coffee, Cosmo.”

Before I could protest, his hand was on my wrist, pulling it and the top towards his face. His expression soured and a laugh tumbled out of me. It was only then that I realised I was just in my bra, halfway through the process of dressing.

I blushed as he noticed the same thing, his eyes dipping to the intricate white lace before returning to my face with a heated look. His hand still held my wrist between us and with his other one he ever so slowly removed the clothing from my grip, tossing it to the floor and leaving my palm empty. He held eye contact as he pressed his palm to mine, opening my hand up so they were touching. I dropped my eyes to them as he laced his fingers with mine, the gesture weirdly intimate and sweet.

The heat of his gaze was too much, so I kept my focus on our interconnected fingers.

He wasn’t having that.

With his other hand, he softly yet firmly grabbed my chin, redirecting my face so I was looking at him again. His eyes didn’t just hold heat, they held emotion. They were burning with it, silver and grey like molten ore swirling together with tenderness and passion and intensity, all at the same time.

He dropped our hands lower, still in their tight embrace, and stepped closer, bringing his head towards mine. And so torturously slowly he brought his lips closer, pressing them to my cheek but grazing the side of my mouth in the process, like he did that first time under the stairs in the Chill—that first taste of him I ever got.

My heart beat thunderously fast, like a thousand horses were stampeding in my chest. That intoxicating scent of him—his intoxicating presence—filled my senses until there was nothing else I could think of but him.

He pulled back and I felt the loss of his touch all too clearly.

Giving me a serious expression, he squeezed my hand.

I didn’t know what to say or do in response to the solemn look on his angelic face.

“Once again, you’ve found a way to get my clothes off,” I mocked, trying to ease the tension.

His eyes brightened slightly and he smirked.

“Just the way I like you.”

And just like that, he was back out to play.

Just the way I liked him.

I flashed him a playful smile.

He grinned back—only for a moment, before it faltered and his face became tense once more.

There was a swollen pause between us.

“I miss you, Supernova.” He swallowed and then looked away for a moment as he mumbled the next bit under his breath, “And not how you think.” His gaze returned to mine, holding me captive. “Although of course I miss that too. But I miss you.”

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