Page 62 of Crossed By the Stars
“That wasn’t me… That was some other person who didn’t understand anything about life,” I whispered. “She was a shiny, untarnished gem. I’m a dirty knockoff.”
“I hate that you see yourself that way.” His voice was deep and gruff with emotions. “That girl…she was like finding a diamond before it’s been cut and polished. This you…you’re the real diamond,mon bijou. Not flawless, but more unique because of the imperfections. Because of what you’ve gone through to become this version of yourself.”
His mouth took mine with such tenderness that it almost broke my heart, kissing me as if he could force me to see myself through his eyes. But the gentleness quickly dissolved as his lips pressed harder, turning the soft touch into a demand. I shoved my hands into his hair, gasping at the pain the raised arms caused but not letting him pull back when he tried to. Instead, I pushed fiercely against the seam of his lips. He groaned and let me in as our bodies shifted, drawing closer. Hips moving together, heat building. Relief far away but dangling in front of us like some tantalizing possibility.
The sweet pain of it filled me until I was forced to take a step back, but he only let me go so far, hand grasping my waist and holding me in place. “Don’t run,” he said, a guttural growl that lit the flames in me even more.
“That’s usually your job,” I told him, lifting my chin.
He nodded. “Yes. But I’ve given up running.”
“What about you father? What about your aunt?”
“The only thing that matters is you. This.” He pulled my hand to his chest, where I could feel the wild beating inside it, and then placed his free hand on my chest in the same place. “Do you feel how my heart pounds for you? Do you feel how yours answers with the same rhythm? We belong together,mon bijou. Our bodies have known it since we were teenagers. It was our minds and our families that got in the way.”
I suddenly realized I was crying. The wind chilled the tears as soon as they landed on my cheeks, and I hated that I was showing this weakness. I hated how much I loved his words, and his touch, and…him.
“Take me back to the cottage,” I told him.
He looked sad, as if I’d told him to leave me alone. I took a step closer, putting my free hand over the one he’d placed over my heart.
“Take me back to the cottage, Dax, and show me with your body what you’ve tossed out so carelessly with your words. Make me believe them.”
“You’re hurt,” he said softly.
“Not having you hurts worse.”
He stared again, searching me for the truth, but I’d already spoken it.
“Now, Dax. Now or never,” I demanded.
In a swift motion that I didn’t expect, he swept me into his arms, leaving the blanket, the basket, and the mess we’d made on the beach to storm up the sandy dune toward the golf cart. He put me in the passenger seat, kissed me again with a ferocity that spun like sunlight through the clouds, and then jumped behind the wheel just as Mike and Armando realized we were leaving without them.
We’d already taken off up the path before they broke into a run to come after us. We left them in the dust as Dax pushed the cart as fast as it would go. The jolt of the rocks and holes reminded me that my body was battered and bruised, but I didn’t care. The pain inside my heart was demanding to be cured. Healed. Years of it. I couldn’t wait until my body recovered. I didn’t want to. I wanted him to fulfill his promises one damn time in our lives.
At the cottage, Cillian was at the door, looking like someone had just pissed on his shoes. He was unhappy that we’d left the detail on the beach. I got out of the cart, and before I could take even two steps, Dax had swept me into his arms again. I couldn’t help the carefree laugh that broke free from my lips.
“I can walk, Armaud.”
“Dax…don’t you dare go back to calling me Armaud,” he said, eyes flashing at me. When we got to the door, Cillian growled out, “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Dax looked Cillian in the eye and said, “We don’t want to be disturbed.”
Cillian’s eyes grew wide, and then I thought his lips curled upward ever so slightly. He didn’t respond. He just nodded.
Dax all but jogged up the stairs, kicking the door of my bedroom shut behind us. My heart was pounding furiously. My sore body was already lit up, burning with want. I was unsure of what damage this would do to me, but I didn’t care. I needed this pain to make sure it felt real. To know that it wasn’t some dream I was having. To prove I wasn’t in a coma in a hospital in San Francisco after the bomb had gone off.
We were both sandy and damp from the beach, but it didn’t matter as Dax lay me down on the bed. He joined me, body lining up alongside mine but not on me. I could feel him hesitating again. I slid my hand down the muscled contours of his chest dusted lightly with dark hair, the kind that trailed down past his belly button, pointing the way to the treasure. When my hand ran into his jeans, I popped them open, grazing the mound underneath, and he made a sound, deep and throaty in his voice.
“Not yet. I’ll lose control like it’s my first time,” he said.
He pulled my hand away and kissed the palm and then slid his mouth up my wrist and along my arm, sucking at the soft recesses of my inner elbow and then continuing over my bicep. The gentleness burned through me as much as the kisses themselves. He pulled back, raising my tank top, removing it and my bra with the speed and dexterity of someone who was well versed in female clothing. The bruising from my back had curled over my sides, and the sight of it made Dax pause.
“Don’t you dare stop,” I told him.
His lips found the purple turning green, gently touching it with soft lips, one hand going to a breast while his tongue found its way to the pebbled tip of the other. His mouth almost completely covered the small mound. He looked up at me as he tugged and licked and sucked with gorgeous, lined eyes full of heat and longing, and my hips bucked of their own accord, needing tension, needing the feel of him against me…on me…in me.
He removed his mouth to speak, and I panted and groaned, instantly missing the feel of his tongue on me.
