Page 44 of Rescuing Mia

“The hunter,” I murmur, finding comfort in the constellations he names and the myths that have traveled time and distance to reach us together.

“Yes, and see those three stars in a row? That’s his belt, and the stars above and below form his body.” His hand moves from my hair to the railing, encircling my own, his grasp firm and reassuring. “And just there, do you see? That’s Sirius, the brightest star in our sky.”

I nod, my pulse quickening under the soft heat of his hand, under the swath of stars he’s draped over my world.

The moment is intimate, cocooned in the sounds of the ocean against the ship, the taste of salt on our tongues, and the enveloping darkness that makes the touch of our skin seem like the only light we need.

In the span of a heartbeat, the universe distills into the connection between us, the stars witnessing the silent conversation of our bodies.

Rigel’s presence speaks to me, calling me to abandon my fears, to lose myself in the vastness he offers—a vastness that isn’t empty but full of possibilities, of nights like this, under skies like these, with someone who makes me want to keep looking up.

“How do you know so much about the stars?”

I’m acutely aware of the heat of his body and the scent of the ocean on his skin mingled with a hint of something crisp and inviting.

“I grew up on a vineyard, far away from the pesky light pollution of the city. My mom and dad would take my sister and me out at night, teach us about the constellations, and tell us how those who came before us used them to circumnavigate the globe.” The deep, rumbling of his voice is as much a caress as the night breeze.

I spin around, too curious for my own good but deeply interested in this strange man.

My hands land on his chest, and my head tilts back to see him. “Pete asked me, but other than diving, what do you do for a living?”

“Right now, I’m in between jobs.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I just got out of the Navy, and I’m taking time for myself before figuring out what I want to do.”

“Oh, that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“The way you carry yourself.”

“I carry myself?”

“Yes, but the way you say it makes it sound weird. I’m just saying you carry yourself with confidence.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Why did you get out of the Navy?”

“The Navy gave me purpose, but it’s a hard life.”

“What did you do in the Navy?” I try to place him into a context I can understand.

“Started out as a lowly deckhand, then worked my way up to the teams.”

“Teams?”

“SEAL team.”

“You’re an ex-SEAL. That’s impressive. No wonder the ladies fawn over you.”

“Former SEAL,” he corrects, but the pride in his tone tells a story of deep commitment and honor. “And you’re a lady, but you’re not fawning over me.”

“I’m sorry?” My brows scrunch because I don’t understand the correction.

“About not fawning over me?” He arches a brow with amusement. “You totally should, you know. I wouldn’t mind.”

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