Page 102 of Falling Like Stars

She leans close. Her mouth is sweet and soft, and she sighs into my kiss before nestling her face in my neck. We’re both quiet for a moment, the unknown future feeling like it’s hanging heavy in the room.

Or it’ll be whatever we make of it.

“This may sound wild,” Rowan says, “but I think this is where we put a couch.”

“And the dining room,” I say, “is where we’ll put a dining room table.”

“Where you’re going to come home to me, eat spaghetti, and tell me about your day.”

Goddamn…

I clench my jaw and hold her tighter, a newfound energy—and righteous anger—flooding me. To protect Rowan at all costs and to fight for this life we want. For a life we can build together.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

EVENTUALLY, WE PEEL ourselves off the floor and leave the new house. Ezra Crawford, Zach’s bodyguard, is waiting with the car service that will take me to my apartment before returning Zach to the Chateau.

“Stay with me,” I say as the car idles on the street next to my building. “Stay the night.”

Zach nods and makes arrangements with Ezra and the driver to come back for him at four a.m. We go upstairs. No sooner is the door shut than Zach is hauling me to him. For the entire ride over to my place, a quiet determination had settled over him. Everything he does is quietly powerful, and his inherent dignity speaks louder than any bluster. I have no doubt that he would defend me if I were ever in danger, protect me if someone threatened me, or stand up for me if I needed him to.

But tonight, he’s going to take what he wants.

Now that we’re alone, that power has morphed into a possessive need as he kisses me hot and hard. Neither of us speak; the only sounds are our breaths rasping in our noses and the little moans of want Zach is drawing out of me with every sucking pull of his mouth.

Within moments, he’s got me out of my clothes and then out of his own and is lying over me. He wastes no time but enters me in one hard thrust. I cry out and grasp his shoulders, nails digging. He nods in approval, his expression unlike any I’ve seen him wear: dark and intent, his handsomeness now all angles and edges of need. I can feel the power in his body, straining with pent-up anger and pain.

“Yes,” I whisper, spreading my legs wider, letting him have me. “Give it to me. Let me take it. Make me take it.”

His eyes, black in the dimness of my studio, flare, and he rises up on his left arm while his right hand grips my hip. Every muscle in his arms and torso is taught—finely cut and honed—and working in concert to hold me against his thrusts that are hard and deep. Time stretches and bends; I feel as if I’m in another dimension where there is only this—him over me and inside me, and my body taking everything he can give.

My breath catches as a sudden tsunami of an orgasm crashes over me while Zach’s hips slam into mine. The veins in his arms are standing out, his jaw set as he works me over. I’ve never felt anything like the waves of pleasure coursing through me, and yet he doesn’t stop.

“Come now,” I breathe, my hands reaching for him, tangling in his hair. “Come in me, Zach. Please…”

He makes a sound deep in his chest and thrusts a final time, his head thrown back, the cords in his neck drawn tight. He stays there a moment, emptying hotly into me, and then he slowly sinks down. I wrap him up tight as his chest heaves with his breath, his heart pounding in time to mine.

We lie entwined for a few beats, then he pulls out to lie beside me. In a few hours, he’ll be gone from my bed, too, to face an ugly scene that might change the course of his life. Our lives, because I’m in it for the long haul. But for now, I hold him, keep him tight to me as we both drift to a heavy sleep.

Zach is gone when I wake, but there’s a note on my bedside table.

Rowan,

I love you with all that I am.

Be home soon.

~Zach

“With all that I am,” I murmur with a smile, but the word I circle with my fingertip is home. I haven’t had a whole one of those since I was thirteen years old. I send a silent prayer up to anyone listening to get Zach through this storm and back to me as soon as possible, and then get busy handling my own business.

I’m showered, dressed, and heading out the door before I realize I haven’t had a panic attack over the idea of moving in with Zach. At Dr. Baldwin’s office, it’s the first thing I tell her when I take my seat in the “crying chair.”

“I’ve made this mistake before,” I tell her. “Thinking I’m okay when I’m not. And given how much has happened in two short days, I’d be an idiot to think it’s not going to bite me in the ass.”

Dr. Baldwin leans forward in her chair. She’s wearing lavender today with green and gold jewelry. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Without naming names or giving identifying clues, I tell her that my boyfriend’s ex is insinuating on social media that she’s pregnant. And that said boyfriend is flying across the country this morning to confront her after asking me to move in with him the night before.

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