Page 122 of When the Stars Fall
I laughed. She kept trying to tell me that we’ve changed, and in a lot of ways we had, but we were still Jude and Lila. She was still my favorite person. My favorite everything. She still loved to argue with me and fight me every step of the way, and I could still read her like a book.
Thirty minutes later, we arrived at our destination and it took me another ten minutes to find parking and practically drag her out of the car and to the entrance of the Science and Technology Museum.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
I would have thought it was obvious considering I’d just purchased two tickets for the nine o’clock star show, but apparently not. “I owe you a galaxy.”
I ushered her inside the Moon Dome and we found two reclining seats side by side that would give us a view of the entire dome overhead.
Ten… fifteen minutes into the star show, as we journeyed to the center of the Milky Way, I turned my head toward her. She met my gaze under a sky reeling with millions of stars.
“Jude,” she whispered.
“Lila.”
She smiled and it rivaled the stars for its brightness.
“Why do you do this to me?” Her voice was soft and this time there was no accusation in it. Without answering, I reached for her hand and she let me take it. For now, that was enough. Even though we were surrounded by people, this felt intimate. Like we were the only two people in the planetarium. I sat back and enjoyed the show, her hand clasped in mine until the very end.
When it was over, she kissed me, just a sweet little kiss that made me feel like a teenager again and I didn’t push for more. I wanted her to call the shots. I wanted her to want me.
On the drive home, I drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh like it belonged there. Because it did. Even after all these years, she was still mine. As far as I was concerned, she always would be.
Like a gentleman, I walked her to her front door and waited for her to unlock it.
“What are you doing?” she asked when she got inside and turned to look at me still standing on her porch.
I tucked my hands in my pockets to prevent myself from grabbing the back of her head and crushing my mouth against hers while I slammed her against the nearest wall and made quick work of burying myself inside her. Just thinking about it and I was already at half-mast. Being a gentleman did not come without its challenges. “Waiting for an invitation.”
“Damn you.” She grabbed my hand and yanked me inside, slamming the door shut behind me. “I hate you. I really do.”
“But you love what my hands and tongue and gigantic—”
She clapped a hand over my mouth to stop the words. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Don’t mind if I do. And then I was on her. Lifting her up, her legs wrapped around my waist, and the skirt of her dress bunched around her hips. I slammed her back against the wall by the front door and her lips parted on a gasp. I traced them with my tongue before sliding inside and kissed her like I was a drowning man and she was the air I needed to breathe. She clung to me, her hands squeezing my shoulders, legs tightly cinched around me, like she was afraid I’d disappear if she didn’t hang on.
My lips found her neck and I rocked my hips, grinding against her. “I could fuck you right here against the wall.”
“Do it,” she said, a challenge in her voice that I knew so well.
Instead, I turned us around and headed for her bedroom, feeling my way in the dark while her hands gripped my hair and her teeth grazed their way down my neck. Ravenous. Greedy. Ready to devour me. I heard her shoes hit the hardwood floor with a thud in the hallway before I kicked open the door to her bedroom and laid her down on top of her bed. “Are you sure?”
In response, she lifted her dress over her head and threw it off to the side, leaving her only in a strip of black lace, affording me a view of her naked body. Her hips were fuller, breasts larger but no less perfect than the last time I’d seen her.
“Jesus, Rebel.”
Hooking my fingers in the sides of her lacy underwear, I pulled them down her legs and tossed them aside. When I leaned down to suck her nipple, I saw the tattoo. A flower inked on her ribs just below her left breast. My fingers brushed over her skin, coasting up to the edge of one of the delicate petals. “When did you do this?”
“On December twenty-second. Six months after you left me.”
One year after we lost the baby. An anniversary she’d chosen to commemorate by having her skin permanently marked.
“What does it mean?” I asked, lightly tracing the design with my fingertips, causing goosebumps to raise on her skin. I used to know every inch of her silky soft skin. Had touched it, kissed it, licked it, but now her body was uncharted territory, something I had to rediscover and reacquaint myself with.
“It’s a lotus flower. It stands for peace, love, and eternity.” She pushed herself up on her elbows and gnawed on her lip while I contemplated the meaning behind the tattoo. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.”And I love you.
