Page 85 of When Stars Fall

He groans into my mouth. “Ellie.” A rasp. The way my name used to sound on his lips before he came, as though he couldn’t control himself, as though he’d never loved anyone more.

Desire swells in me. Hearing him say my name like that causes my knees to weaken. This wildfire of emotion is the standard he set, and I don’t understand how I was ever with anyone else after. Our chemistry burns through me. He scoops me up, laying me back on the bed. Trailing his hand down my body, he follows with his mouth. When he gets to my stomach, he pauses, his palm skimming across my middle. “No trace,” he whispers, his voice full of awe and sadness.

An ache blooms in my chest. My job, my life, depended on there being no sign I was ever pregnant. He doesn’t wait for a response, just continues to drop lingering kisses along theedge of my panties. His lips skim my inner thighs before he removes my panties in one swift action. Shifting his body to the side, he comes back to my lips while his fingers circle my sensitive spot, working magic on my most intimate parts.In the years we were together, he took pleasure in learning every way to take me over the edge—quickly, slowly, and every increment in between. I moan into his mouth, slick with need, headed along the path of no return.

“Not yet. Not without me,” he says.

I arch my back, then he takes each breast into his mouth, sucking and licking the nipples. When his teeth graze them, I gasp, and he chuckles.

“Say it,” Wyatt murmurs into my neck. “Tell me, Ellie.”

“I want you.” I bite his earlobe and scrape my nails along his shoulders. “Please, Wyatt.”

His lips return to mine as he positions himself between my legs. Cupping my ass with one hand, he pushes into me, filling me. I wrap my legs around his waist, keeping him tight. Both his arms come up underneath me, cradling me as he rocks into me. The full body contact is delicious and sends a flood of sensations through me.

“I love you, Ellie,” he murmurs before he kisses me, long and deep.

Our mouths barely break contact, and he shifts to rub me the way I need to climax. I missed him. I missed this. No one makes me come alive like he does.The way we move together, the tenderness and love of being cradled in his arms. There’s nothing like being with him.

“Ellie.” His voice is strained.

“Yes,” I say, breathless. “A little more. Yes.” I moan. “God, Wyatt, yes.”

He pushes into me harder, the contact sending me over the edge, crying out his name in a haze of ecstasy. He chases my orgasm with his own and then kisses me tenderly.

Rolling to the side, he tucks me against his chest. He wraps both of his arms around me, and he presses his lips to the top of my head.“I’ve missed you.” His chin rests on my crown.

“Me too.” The truth is so much easier to admit than I expected. I have missed this version of him, which I got so often when we first started dating and less often as he spiraled out of control. Maybe we can carve out happiness together.

Exhausted, lulled into a sense of security by the soft thud of Wyatt’s rhythmic heartbeat, my eyes drift shut.

Hours later when I wake up, Wyatt has me secured to his chest, his arm a weight across my middle. His steady breathing is near my ear and stirs my hair. I shouldn’t stay any longer. Haven will get the wrong idea if she realizes I slept here, and I’m not sure what the right idea is yet. We didn’t talk. Still, hope fills my chest. I shift Wyatt’s arm, even though I long to stay.

“Where are you going?” Wyatt mumbles into my neck.

“Bathroom.” Another shiver flows down my spine and across my body. I’ll never understand how he can make me want so much with so little. Fingers crossed he falls back to sleep. I don’t want to fight, and he won’t be happy with me sneaking out, even if it’s for the best right now.

He releases me, and I tiptoe to the bathroom, collecting my clothes as I go. I dress and then stare at myself in the mirror.

What am I doing? I grab a tissue and brush away the mascara that’s smudged under my eyes. Balling it up, I toss it toward the garbage, and I catch sight of a familiar bottle. I crouch to examine the trash can. My heart kicks at the realization of what’s stashed inside the white plastic bag. There are fifteen or more minibar bottles, empty.

He lied to me.

I suck in a sharp breath. Anger rises in me, but tears leak out. Removing each bottle from the garbage, I line them up on the counter. From my purse on the floor, I find a pen and a scrap of paper. With tears blurring my vision, I scribble a note and leave it propped against the bottles.

How could you? What else have you lied about?

I risk one last glance at him before leaving the room. His sleeping form almost undoes me, but the row of bottles I laid out mocks me. He made me believe he had his addictions kicked, or at least under control. He fooled me. There’s nothing controlled about that much alcohol. A headache builds behind my eyes. I embrace the anger and frustration because my other option is heartbreak. We were so close.

Twenty in total. He’s still drinking.

When I leave his room, the door closes behind me with a click.

Chapter Thirty-One

Wyatt

Present Day

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