Kiss the Stars

by Jackson, A. L.

  His hand found my chin, tilting it back toward him. Those brown-sugared eyes flashed.

  Grief.

  Greed.

  Fear.

  “Wasn’t apologizing to you, Mia.”

  Confusion knitted my brow, and the only thing it took was the stake of agony that burned up his expression to start a brawl in the middle of my chest.

  I searched him, my tongue sweeping across my trembling bottom lip. “Then who were you apologizing to?”

  God, did I even dare ask the question?

  Sheer anguish dented every line on his gorgeous face, this man hemorrhaging from someplace I couldn’t see, but it was anger that purged from his tongue. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Disbelief left me on a haggard, brutalized laugh, and my hands moved to my chest like it might keep my heart from spilling out. “It doesn’t matter? How can you even begin to say that, Leif? You push me away and then you refuse to let me go. I think I deserve to know why, don’t you?”

  “Mia . . . I . . . I can’t.”

  “Leif . . . just . . . talk to me. Please. You can trust me. You’ve been holding me up. Let me hold you up, too.”

  “Mia.”

  It was refusal.

  An appeal.

  As if again he didn’t know if he should hold me close or push me away.

  “Leif, I’m standing right here, begging you to believe in me.”

  His head shook, and he took a step back.

  A barrier built.

  Disappointment hit me. Full force. My smile was forged, as fake as my surrender. “Okay. Fine. I get it.”

  Before I let myself get beat up anymore, I found the strength to turn and walk away.

  If he wanted me, he was going to have to prove it.

  I was halfway back to the door when he called my name.

  A moan of affliction.

  I stilled, unsure, but I turned when he muttered, “You want my honest?”

  “I do.”

  It was an oath.

  A promise that I would hold whatever he offered.

  He was in front of me in a second, a thunderbolt of grief, his hands squeezing my face in desperation when he released the confession, “I was apologizing to my wife, Mia. My dead wife. That’s who I was apologizing to.”

  The words were jagged.

  Sharp edges and crushed vestiges.

  Nothing left to be repaired.

  My eyes rounded with his revelation, mind rushing to process through his anguish.

  Through what he had lost.

  He started to step away. As if he couldn’t stand in the declaration.

  I let my phone slip free so I could grab him by the wrists. Slayed by the realization of where his desperation had come from last night. The ghosts that I had felt wailing in his spirit.

  “God . . . Leif. I’m . . . I’m so sorry. So sorry.” I blinked a million times, as if it might erase some of his pain. Like it could soothe mine as I struggled to fumble through the idea that she had been there with us.

  Between us. On his mind and on his tongue.

  That he’d felt dishonor in touching me. In being with me.

  “You want more of my honest, Mia?” he almost spat, his face so close to mine, his torment frenetic in the blank space that separated us. A barrier that our souls tried to breach.

  I wasn’t sure that I could handle any more.

  Tears flooded when he set those massive hands back on my cheeks, mine still manacles around his wrists.

  “We move on from here? Then I need you to listen and listen good.”

  I barely managed a nod.

  “I was apologizing to her because you are the first person who has made me feel since losing her, Mia, and the truth is, I’m not quite sure how to handle that. You’re the first person who’s made me question what I’m living for. The first person who’s made me think that maybe I might want something different.”

  He clutched me tighter. “Yeah, I’ve slept with other women, Mia. But you are the only one I’ve been with.”

  Sorrow spun.

  For him.

  For her.

  For me.

  “The only one I wanted.” It was the confession of a sin.

  The man on his knees.

  I gulped down his misery.

  “What happened to her?”

  Grief clashed with the hardness of his expression. Stone and ice. He leaned in closer. “I told you that I’m really good at destroying everything I touch.”

  I heaved out a staggered breath, refusing to believe the cruelty that fell from his tongue.

  “You might not have been in my life for long, Leif Godwin, but I know you. You would never hurt her.”

  His laughter was brutal. “Just because I didn’t pull the trigger doesn’t mean I wasn’t responsible. Doesn’t mean I’m not the devil.”

  God. I wanted to believe he was speaking figuratively. But by the expression on his face? I couldn’t be sure. He curled his hand around the side of my neck, both possessive and tender. “And with you, Mia? You make it feel different. Make me want to be different. Be someone who is worthy of you. And that scares the shit out of me because I shouldn’t want you. Because I’m wishing I could be the kind of man that I’m not ever going to be.”

  And I got it. I got it.

  Saw so deep in his storm.

  Like my fingertips had delved into the darkest depths of his spirit.

  Touched upon the fear.

  The reservations.

  The hatred that seeped from his soul.

  “Need to be here with you, Mia. Watch over you. Watch over your kids. Can’t walk away until I know you’re safe.”

  It was a harsh plea.

  That maybe saving us would be his only salvation.

  But what I heard the most?

  He would never allow himself to love me.

  Not the way that I wanted him to.

  That would be like me chasing down a falling star and catching it in my hand.

  Beautiful but gone in a flash. Disintegrated into nothing.

  A dream turned to ash.

  A shiver raced, and my stomach churned.

  And I knew, right then, that I was already lost to him.

  Twenty-Five

  Mia

  I took one last glance at myself in the full-length mirror. Considering I was going to a concert, I thought I would try to play the part. Tight, black, shredded skinny jeans, a thin, silky black tank with a strip of lace at the low neckline, and a pair of knee-high boots to match.

  I’d done my makeup heavier than normal, and my hair was curled into fat waves.

  All of it put together made me feel . . . sexy.

  Maybe it would stand the chance to cover the fact I also felt crazy anxious.

  My nerves splintered and fragmented.

  When I’d gone to bed last night, I was sure this whole thing would have gone bust. Worried that Leif would retreat after allowing that glimpse of vulnerability. After opening a part of himself up to me that I’d bet my life he shared with precious few others, if anyone at all.

  The part of me that had begun to beat for him wrecked by what he’d gone through.

  Praying he would allow me to hold it, while there was a huge piece of me that wasn’t exactly sure how to handle that knowledge.

  But no.

  I glanced at my phone again, to the text that had been waiting for me since morning.

  Leif: Be ready at 5. We’re gonna ride.

  I ran my damp palms down the front of my jeans.

  Right.

  Okay.

  I was just supposed to climb onto the back of his bike. Act like nothing had happened after what had been revealed yesterday.

  My heart wasn’t just on the line.

  It was on the chopping block.

  I glanced at the clock.

  Four fifty.

  My pulse spiked.

  This was it.

  I grabbed my leather jacket from where I had it tossed on top of my b
ed, shrugged into it, and headed out the two doors into the long hall that led to the main part of the house. At the end of it, I made a right through the archway and stepped right into anarchy.

  Every person in the family was there tonight.

  The kids had tipped the couch on its side and piled a thousand pillows to the sky.

  Their own personal stairway to heaven.

  “I am King Zeus,” Brendon roared from the top of it, lifting both hands like he was holding a thunderbolt, while all his loyal subjects scrambled around at the base of his throne.

  “Mommy!” Greyson squealed when he saw me, bouncing on his knees and holding a pillow like it was some kind of treasure. “We building a fort! Do you wike it? See?”

  “Wow.” It wasn’t so hard to exaggerate my enthusiasm when it was about the cutest thing I’d ever seen. “I love it.”

  I doubted so much that Tamar did.

  I leaned over and kissed the top of his head, savoring in his sweet scent.

  Penny met my eye. Cautious and knowing and sweet. “Mom, you look really pretty.”

  My smile wobbled, and I fidgeted with my hair. “That’s nice of you, but I think I might have—”

  The whistle and catcall coming from behind stalled the words, and I spun around with a glare. Eyes narrowing on the culprit.

  “Holy Mia-Moly. You are some kinda sight, darlin’. Are you trying to knock the whole town dead?” Ash grinned from behind the counter, his thick, muscled arms planted on the island as he grinned across at me with his ridiculous dimples.

  I rolled my eyes at Ash. “Hardly.”

  “He’s right, Mia. You look HOT, mama,” Edie said.

  A blush gathered somewhere on my chest, the silky, lacy tank I was wearing under my jacket suddenly feeling too thin.

  “You look stunning,” Willow told me with one of her gentle smiles.

  “I look ridiculous.”

  Ash pointed at me. “Oh, people are most definitely going to be staring at you tonight, but it’s not because you look ridiculous.”

  Redness crept to my cheeks. I wasn’t typically shy, but I was most definitely self-conscious of the fact I’d just spent the last three hours in front of the mirror getting ready.

  Or really, the reason I’d done it.

  So nervous. Wanting to look pretty for the man who had me in a fist.

  Lyrik froze when he caught sight of me.

  All kinds of protective.

  Tamar smacked his chest. “You let one thing come out of that mouth, and I’m going to make you pay for it later.”

  She even made that sound sexy.

  He grunted.

  “You look amazing,” she mouthed at me from across the kitchen.

  “I . . . um . . . are you sure you’re going to be okay with the kids?”

  Tamar laughed one of her sultry sounds. “Uh . . . if you’re worried it’s your children who are tearing down the house, look behind you. I think two more aren’t gonna make a difference.”

  I worried my bottom lip, glancing behind me, back to her.

  “Maybe I should stay.”

  “Let me think.” She tilted pursed lips toward the ceiling for one second, tapping her chin, before she dropped her attention back to me. “Nope. You shouldn’t. Go. Have a blast. We have them.”

  “Got them, Mia,” Lyrik reassured me. “You don’t have anything to be concerned about. All of us have them under our watch.” My brother lifted his chin. “Tamar is right. You should go. Have a good time. You deserve a night just for yourself.”

  I gave him an unsure nod. “Okay.”

  “Just . . .” He glanced out the windows to the backyard. His muscles twitched. The meaning of his real concern clear. He moved toward me. Slowly. The words quieted and only for me. “Be careful. Don’t take shit from anyone. But more than that? Go after what you want, Mia. What your heart tells you. Don’t you dare feel guilty for chasing down what makes you happy. You got me?”

  There was something in his statement that impaled me deep. My chest stretching tight in appreciation, those nerves going for another tumble.

  “Thank you.” The words trembled.

  I moved in to give my brother a quick hug, but he didn’t release me, instead muttered at my ear, “He hurts you, he can kiss his dick goodbye.”

  “Lyrik,” I mumbled, subduing laughter, pushing away from him.

  He chuckled and squeezed my hand. “Have fun, baby sister.”

  “I will.”

  I gave a timid wave to everyone, all those eyes on me, feeling exposed. I moved to my babies, hugged my sweet girl. “Have fun tonight.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. We’re fine. I promise.”

  I kissed her forehead, loving the child that she was.

  I had to chase down Greyson to get one of those hugs, the kid squirming all over the place, laughing like crazy as he played hard to get.

  Finally, I pried myself away, and I sucked in a steeling breath as I released the latch way up high on the backdoor and stepped out into the stagnant heat of the late afternoon.

  Sunlight blazed down through the bluest sky.

  A wicked grin slid over his face when he saw me coming into view where he stood on the patio of the guest house.

  Waiting.

  Watching for me.

  Need boiled my blood.

  Instant.

  Man wearing jeans and a tee and sex on his skin.

  All that terrifying beauty rippling under the sun.

  My stomach tipped to the side, want sloshing over.

  He stepped down and headed my direction, radiating this natural arrogance that had me shaking at the knees.

  He cocked a grin when he was two feet away, and he slowly roughed a hand through his hair, voice filling up with a lusty declaration. “You really are tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you, Mia?”

  I fidgeted, messed with the hem of my leather jacket.

  He eased forward.

  Flames lapped.

  He shocked me by looping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush. A tiny gasp sped up my throat. He buried his face in my hair, and I nearly died right then when his lips tugged gently at the lobe of my ear.

  “Knew the second I saw you that you were the sexiest woman I’d ever laid eyes on, Mia West. But dressed like this? I changed my mind—it’s you who is going to ruin me.”

  The blush took full bloom, and I was chewing at my bottom lip that was painted red when he edged back. He reached out and tugged it free, the pad of his thumb sending a crash of chills down my spine. “Don’t mess with that lipstick. I plan on kissing it off later.”

  Those nerves skittered. Shivered and leapt.

  Unprepared to find him like this.

  Lighthearted for the first time.

  Confusion knitted my brow. He just laughed, stepped back, and took my hand. “You ready to get out of here?”

  “I’m not sure I could ever be ready for you,” I admitted.

  His expression softened, and he traced the angle of my jaw with the pad of his thumb.

  Tenderly.

  So at odds with the man I’d come to know.

  “Know the affliction.”

  We stared for a beat.

  Lost.

  Hearts drumming out ahead of us.

  He blew out a breath and snatched my hand. “Come on, let’s go before I say fuck to this show and have you in my bed.”

  Turning on his heel, he started for the gate, leading me by the hand. Every so often, he glanced back at me with this look on his face.

  One so different than I’d ever seen him wear before.

  Like . . . like . . . he was almost happy.

  Like he couldn’t believe I was there.

  Like the fact that I was meant everything.

  I raced to keep up with him. My heeled boots clicked on the walkway, and I clung to his wrist with my free hand while my other was clutched in the massiveness of his. He punched the code for the gate, and he held it open for me to go ahead of him.

/>   He’d already pulled his bike out of the garage, all that gleaming metal sitting there waiting to be tamed.

  I inhaled a shaky breath.

  “Are you nervous?” The warmth of him suddenly hit me from behind, his breath skating across the sensitive skin of my neck.

  “Nope, not nervous,” I squeaked.

  Positively terrified.

  Terrified this bad boy was going to strip me bare. Leave me broken and mangled and beaten.

  I was nothing but a willing participant.

  He wound around me and grabbed the helmet he had hanging from one of the handlebars, turned back, and carefully situated it on my head.

  Brown-sugar eyes never left mine as he fastened the strap.

  My stomach quivered, and my knees knocked.

  “Perfect,” he murmured. He touched my chin. Gently.

  Oh man, I wasn’t quite sure how to keep up with him when he was like this.

  Slinging his leg over the motorcycle, he balanced it, and his booted foot came down hard to kick it over.

  God. How was that sexy, too?

  This man oozed it.

  Bled it.

  The roar of the engine coming to life sent vibrations up the back of my legs and crawling across my flesh.

  Taking over.

  This low buzz that grew louder and louder.

  Amplified when he pulled back the throttle and revved the powerful motor.

  He sent me a cocky grin, angling his head for me to climb on. “You ever ridden before?” he asked.

  “Once or twice.”

  “Most important thing is to relax and let your body follow my movements. Don’t fight it. Enjoy it.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  He chuckled a low, grumbly sound, at one with the bike, and I was swinging my leg over and tucking myself close to the strength of his body.

  I wrapped my arms around his waist.

  Sensation raced, and my heart thundered at his back. No question, he could sense it, feel it, as if the man had a direct line connected to me.

  “Hang on,” he shouted.

  It was becoming clear it was going to be impossible to let go.

  He eased out onto the road, and the sun blazed down from above, rays flashing through the leaves of the trees from overhead as he took the bike to the street.