Page 44 of Fallen Stars

Backlit by the party lights, I lick my lips as my eyes trail down his silhouette. The closer he gets, the more my eyes adjust and take all of him in.

He’s changed since the show. A black graphic tee hugs his biceps, but rests comfortably over his chest. Loose-fitting jeans sit low on his hips and only serve to amplify his natural swagger. And fuck me, he looks mouthwatering.

The moment he spots me next to the tree, he picks up his pace. Heart pounding in my chest, he gifts me a smile I swear he reserves for me.

“You’re still here.”

Pushing off the tree, I nod as I inch closer to him. “You looked great on stage.” I tap the side of my legs over and over. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Saliva pools in my mouth and I swallow. “The crowd loved you.”

Oliver stands inches away, the heat of him dancing over my skin. His finger hooks in the belt loop of my pants and he tugs me closer. “Don’t want to talk about the show.”

“No?”

The show is the last thing I want to talk about. But the swirl of nervous energy and adrenaline throughout my body has me rambling and twitchy.

Breath warm on my lips, he shakes his head. “Later.”

“Later,” I repeat and take a deep, shuddering inhale.

Before I exhale, Oliver’s mouth is on mine. Urgent and greedy and unrelenting. He licks the seam of my lips and I quiver before opening up for him. His eager hands drift to my hips, grip me with bruising force, and haul me forward until the bulge beneath his zipper rubs the length of my erection.

Fisting his shirt, I deepen the kiss as I moan into his mouth. I take and taste and grow impossibly harder. My body begging for more—his hands, his lips, his tongue on my skin. Desire thrums through my veins and fuels my already intense feelings for Oliver.

I surrender to the desires I’ve hidden for so long. Forget about obligations and Stone Bay and any preconceived notions I’ve had shoved down my throat all my life. I live in the moment and free my mind and heart.

Releasing his shirt, my hands drift down his chest. Lower and lower. Dipping beneath the worn cotton of his shirt, my fingers skim the waistband of his jeans and the soft skin just above it. He sucks in a sharp breath and tries to pull back. But I keep him pinned in place.

“Ollie…” His name is raspy, breathy, a plea. “Let me feel you.”

His hands on my hips fist impossibly harder before his grip loosens and drifts up my body. Forehead pressed to mine, he cups my cheeks and stares into my soul.

I see the fight in his eyes. The eagerness to say yes because he wants this as much as I do. The resistance because he fears what will happen once we take this step. Once we become more than friends.

“I’m scared, too,” I confess softly. “So damn afraid.”

Worry creases the corners of his eyes as they dart between mine.

“Afraid of what we may lose. Frightened we may never be the same.” I close my eyes, inhale deeply, then meet his gaze with renewed strength. “But I’m more terrified of not being with you. Petrified of not admitting what I want, taking my shot, and missing out on the greatest relationship of my life.”

Oliver’s expression softens as he melts into me. “Levi…”

“Let me feel you.”

When he doesn’t respond, when he doesn’t pull away or spew a rebuttal, I take it as a good sign. That he’s considering it.

His thumbs stroke my cheeks once, twice, and then his lips are on mine again. Softer this time. Tender yet starved. With each stroke of his tongue on mine, the air around us thickens. Intensifies. Amplifies.

I pop the button on his jeans and pause. He doesn’t retreat or break the kiss. No, he curls his fingers into my hair and deepens the kiss.

My heart pounds viciously in the confines of my rib cage as I drag his zipper down. My hands shake as I graze the waistband of his boxer briefs. He gently rocks his hips forward and moans into my mouth, encouraging me.

In this moment, time is measured in heartbeats. Nothing and no one exists except him and me and the feelings we’ve shared but have been too frightened to admit.

My fingers dip beneath his underwear and we both gasp. A loudthumpechoes through the trees a moment before aboom, crack, fizzleripples in the air. The night sky turns red as I gently fist his length.

Thick and hard and throbbing in my hand, I slowly stroke the length of him. His jaw slackens as my hand moves up and down, root to tip. I lick his bottom lip. Relish in the pleasure written inhis expression. Swipe my thumb over the head of his cock and smear the precum.

Fireworks light the sky in various colors and highlight the undiluted lust in his eyes. I stroke him harder. Faster. Shove his pants and underwear lower.

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