Page 55 of Fallen Stars

Less than five minutes later, I park the car in front of his room at the inn.

Dick hard as steel, I inhale a stuttered breath and turn to look at Oliver. An expression I’ve never seen on him etches his features. Undiluted need. Ache. Lust.

And when my gaze trails down his body, I see exactly how much he wants me right now.

Without a word, I unbuckle my seat belt, exit the car, and wait for him to do the same. In six lengthy strides, we stand outside the door as he fumbles for the key card.

The second we slip inside, everything changes.

FOURTEEN

OLIVER

I’ve playedthis moment in my mind an infinite number of times over the past seven years. Fantasized over what it’d be like to touch and taste Levi. Openly claim him with my hand on him or our fingers laced together. To tell the world this man belongs to me, and I belong to him. To take him to my bed and permanently alter the shape of our souls.

Not once during those hedonistic daydreams did I believe it’d become a reality. Nor did I foresee Levi initiating this monumental shift in our relationship.

It’s both thrilling and terrifying.

The soft click of the door as it closes jump-starts my heart. My pulse soars as I step farther into the room. Frenetic energy trickles through my bloodstream and wakes every nerve ending in my body as Levi stands inches away. My breaths come in slow, stuttered sips as I stare at the quilt-covered queen bed in the middle of the room.

This is really fucking happening.

His fingers graze mine for the briefest of seconds and I suck in a sharp breath. Heat and thrill and something foreign yet addictive dance across my skin. My eyes roll back and close as I absorb this new, potent sensation.

And then the feeling is gone.

My eyes pop open and shoot to his as I reach for his hand. As our fingers weave together, I read the uncertainty in his expression.

“What’s wrong?” The question leaves my lips in a whisper.

He drops his gaze to our joined hands, his thumb trailing the length of mine in delicate, carefree strokes. With a subtle shake of his head, he says, “Just nervous.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, I gently tighten my hold on him. His eyes drift back up to mine, the cool blue of his irises now darker. Bolder. An unspoken declaration.

I swallow past the bubbling anxiety expanding in my chest. “Me too.”

God, am I fucking nervous.

Levi moves to stand in front of me, takes my other hand, and inches close enough for his breath to paint my lips. Notes of cedar with the hint of something distinctly him fill my nose.

Hour-long seconds pass as my heart rattles my rib cage, the vicious rhythm of my pulse ricocheting in my ears. I drop my gaze to his lips as the memory of kissing him in public hours ago ambushes my thoughts. As if he hears my introspection, his tongue darts out and wets his lips.

My grip on his hand tightens.

And with that simple reaction, he eviscerates the last of the space between us and claims my mouth with his.

He releases my hands and lifts his to frame my face. His fingers bruise my flesh a beat before they drift into my hair and curl into loose fists. The desperation in his touch, mixed with the taste of him on my tongue, has me dizzy.

A moan vibrates my chest and spills from my lips onto his tongue.

His fingers fist my hair harder as he deepens the kiss. As his tongue wars with mine.

And then we’re moving across the room.

I reach for him and clutch his hips. Fist the cotton of his shirt in my hands as we stumble to a stop. Haul him flush to my frame as the kiss turns frenzied. Greedy. Borderline violent.

My hands skim the waist of his pants from his hips to the line of buttons on his shirt. With a slight tremble in my fingers, I pop the buttons free. Graze the soft skin of his abdomen with the tips of my fingers. Smile into the kiss as he quivers beneath my touch.

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