To the Stars Page 32

“Yes.”

I sucked in air through my teeth and shook my head. “Low, I’ve told you, I’m the opposite of romantic.”

She lowered her body onto mine and leaned close enough that her lips brushed against mine when she spoke. “I want to love you to the stars? It was just part of our story?”

I caught her mouth for a lingering kiss before saying, “But that’s all true.”

“Romantic.”

“Then it’s only you,” I promised. “No one gets this side of me; no one else ever has.”

Just as she was leaning in for another kiss, she jolted and her eyes widened.

“What’s wrong?” I asked when she didn’t say anything or move.

“I think . . .”

“What?”

“Did a bird just poop on my head?” she asked in a horrified voice.

I laughed loudly, and looked at her like she’d lost it. “In the middle of the night? I doubt it.” Still laughing, I rolled us over and pressed my body closer to hers. As I brought my mouth back down to hers, I felt the rain start falling against the back of my neck. I let out a sigh against her lips and said, “And that would be your bird.”

“No, no!” Harlow scrambled out from under me and off the blanket, and tried to take off in the direction of my truck, but I was up and after her within seconds.

I hooked an arm around her waist before she could get far, and swung her body back against mine.

“Knox!” she screamed through her laughs as she tried to get away from me. “We need to get back to the truck!”

“What’s a little rain when you’re from Seattle?”

“Because I always look awful when I see you, and I actually tried to look nice this time!” She giggled and tried to pull away again, but stopped when I pressed her back to my chest.

“You wanted romantic,” I whispered into her ear, and tightened my arm around her waist. I played with the sliver of skin exposed on her stomach, and smiled when she shivered against me. Taking the loose collar of her shirt in my other hand, I pulled until it fell down her arm, and moved my mouth in a line across her shoulder. “Dance with me.”

Harlow turned her head slowly toward mine, and our eyes locked for heated seconds as I swayed us back and forth. An audible exhale blew past her lips when I traced the bridge of my nose along her jaw and trailed the tips of my fingers up her stomach, across her chest, and down her arms. Grabbing her hands in mine, I turned her around so we were facing each other, and pulled her close again as I resumed the slow dance.

I’d played this out differently in my head when I’d stopped her from running back to my truck. I’d thought of having fun with the dance and making her laugh in that way that always got to me. But this . . . with our slow movements in the pouring rain with the girl I’d waited years for . . . I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Drops of rain raced down her face and dripped off her nose and lips, and I watched as her breathing grew heavier and her eyes moved over my face and down to my chest. I’d never seen her look more beautiful than she did in that moment.

I’d waited years for her, and that time of waiting was almost up, but somehow it still felt like I’d never been waiting. It felt like I’d had her all this time. Like I’d spent the past two years loving her and making her mine in a completely different way than what I knew we were both craving.

Harlow unwound her arms from me and moved her hands across my rain-soaked shirt while her eyes watched her fingers in fascination. With a slowness that both drove me crazy and gave me more time to remind myself that I should stop her, she moved her hands inside my shirt, and let one hand press against my stomach while the other gripped the top of my jeans.

I should stop this. I should grab the blanket, and walk her back to the truck right now. She needs to know that she affects me more than she realizes.

My will to stay away from her had already been weak when I first met her, and had only weakened every time I’d seen her—tonight and the night in her friend’s apartment were proof. Now I wasn’t sure if I had any left at all.

“Knox,” Harlow began, her voice barely audible above the rain.

“We should go,” I said, cutting her off.

Her wide eyes met mine, and her head shook faintly. And goddamn if that wasn’t the exact response I did and didn’t want.

I crushed my mouth to hers so fast she gasped in surprise, and I used the movement to slide my tongue against hers. She met my kiss greedily as her fingers curled against my abdomen; but suddenly they were gone, and before I could stop her, she pulled her shirt over her head and pressed her body and mouth back against mine.

I instinctively put my hands around her waist to push her back, but the feel of her slick skin beneath my fingers had a growl building in my chest, and soon I’d forgotten every reason why I’d needed us to stop.

Grabbing her up in my arms, I walked her back the few feet to the now-soaked blanket and laid her down. I wanted to study every inch of her exposed skin—later. I rested my body on top of hers, but propped myself back up to tear off my shirt when she began pulling at it. She captured my mouth with hers as soon as I was lying on top of her again, and I slid my hand up her leg until I got to her knee, and curled it around my hip as I began moving against her.

Harlow broke away from the kiss and dropped her head back on the blanket, and the sexiest noise I’ve ever heard escaped her lips when I rocked against her again. I would’ve done anything in that moment if she would make that sound again.

Releasing her knee, I slowly slid my hand up her thigh and pushed up the material of the skirt she was wearing until it was bunched around her hips. I pressed my mouth to the swell of her breasts, and gently bit down as I trailed my fingers to the inside of her thighs.

“Knox, please,” she whimpered just before I touched her.

And that plea, those two words I’d fantasized about for years and were finally hearing, was what snapped me back.

“Fuck,” I groaned against her skin, and righted her skirt. “Fuck. I can’t,” I said through harsh breaths. Everything in me was roaring with the need to taste of her, but I knew I couldn’t. This night would end up meaning a lot more than it was ever supposed to if I let myself continue. “As much as I want you right here, and right now, I will hate myself later for it if I don’t do this the right way.”

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