He crosses his arms over his chest and leans his hip against the counter. He looks me over, trying to read what I’m thinking from my posture, and presses his lips together. “Is it the marriage that has changed things?” he asks. “Or the sex.”
I nearly choke on my own tongue. When I sober, I admit, “Both, I guess. It’s … weird.” I bite my lip, staring hard at his chest, remembering the way it felt pressed against me. “We crossed a line, and I don’t think we can uncross it.”
“So why try?” he asks as his arms fall. In one swift move, he’s in front of me, cornering me against the wall beside the door leading into my room. His eyes fall to my lips and slowly make their way back up, connecting with mine. “We can still be friends and acknowledge the fact that there’s more between us.” His fingers ghost against my chin—they touch there and gone in a second, so fast I’m not sure it really happened.
My heartbeat flutters like a frightened bird, trapped behind my ribcage and desperate to break free. I lean my head against the wall, looking up into his dark eyes. They’ve always looked at me with such … sweetness and maybe the occasional hint of lust or desire, but right now, he looks at me like I’m the answer to every question he’s ever had.
When I don’t speak, he adds, “You’ve already agreed to stay married to me for the summer, I think that implies that we see where things go.” He grasps my hips, digging his own into my center and I can feel his hard length. I moan, holding onto his sides so I don’t collapse onto the floor. “I want you to know you can talk to me, though. You always have. Your fears, your desires, whatever it is, I’m here to listen.”
“Even when it’s about you,” I breathe.
He chuckles, tipping my chin up. “Even then.”
I lay my head against his chest and wrap my arms around his body. He hugs me back, resting his head on top of mine. I feel him exhale a deep breath and his thumbs rub soothing circles on my back.
I step out of his embrace, and he looks me over with uncertainty shimmering in his eyes. “I’m okay,” I tell him, knowing he needs to hear it. “Promise.”
He nods once and disappears into his room.
I head into my room, smiling at the familiarity. It’s good to be home. My room is an explosion of pink and cream. Rae has never been able to get over my love for the color pink. I wouldn’t even say that I’m that much of a girly girl—I just like the color.
I take a quick shower, only rinsing off my body since I showered at the hotel but felt the need to get the airplane ick off of me.
I change into a pair of cotton pants and a loose t-shirt that slips over my shoulder.
I grab my phone off the dresser and pad downstairs and into the kitchen. It’s a little late for lunch, but since we missed out on it from being on the flight and then the drive home, I’m starving.
I rustle around in the kitchen and procure everything I need to make a homemade pizza. I already have the dough laid out and am in the process of spreading the sauce when Xander saunters into the kitchen. He’s changed into a pair of sweatpants and a thin muscle shirt that I swear he’s had since high school.
“Whatcha doin’?” he asks, sliding onto one of the metal barstools that line the kitchen bar.
“I’m hungry, figured you were too. Is pizza okay?” It’s a bit late now to ask him, but whatever.
His lips quirk up on one side. “Pizza’s great—as long as there’s pepperoni.”
I hold up the plastic pack with the individually cut slices and shake it. “I’d never forget.”
He grins, clasping his hands together and laying them on the counter.
I finish fixing the pizza and stick it in the oven. When I stand back up, I can’t help but notice that his eyes are glued to my ass. “Eyes up here, bud.” I point to my eyes.
He chuckles, not at all caring that I caught him looking.
I set the timer and place my hands on the counter in front of me so that he hopefully won’t see them shaking. I don’t want him to realize he makes me nervous. He always has. Well, maybe not him but what I feel for him. A part of me itches to play the part of his wife. To go to him, and stand between his legs, where he’d put his hands on my waist, and I’d kiss him. I’m sure I’ve daydreamed about that exact scenario at some point in my life, but now that I have him, it feels wrong. Not wrong in the sense of not right with him, but wrong because it feels like I’m taking advantage of our situation. I guess that’s exactly what we’re supposed to do these next few months, but I’m scared. I need him to set the pace, so I can follow his lead, but he’s probably waiting for me to do the same. It’s a tricky situation.
“A penny for your thoughts?” he asks, noting my seriousness.
I mock-gasp. “I should be offended. My thoughts are worth much more than a penny.”
He chuckles. “A quarter?”
I wince. “Still not high enough.”
He laughs, the sound rich and melodic.
Changing the subject, I say, “I bet Rae and Cade will be gone all day.”
He nods in agreement. “I’m sure.”
“You know what that means?” I waggle my brows.
He grins cockily. “Baby, if you wanted sex you didn’t need to be coy about it.”
I grab a dishtowel off the counter and swat him with it. He laughs even as the cloth slaps his skin. “No. It means we can watch a movie. We never get the TV to ourselves.”
He grins. “I liked my idea better.”
“Of course you did.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I hate him for bringing up the topic of sex, because now all I can think about is the smooth feel of his skin beneath my hands and our bodies moving together. I bite my lip, suppressing a moan at my naughty thoughts.
Xander says huskily, “If you keep standing there with that look on your face, I’m going to have to fuck you on the kitchen counter.”
My breath catches and his eyes flick to my lips. The gesture is like a bomb going off. I don’t know which of us moves first, but suddenly, I’m in his arms, and his lips press to mine, kissing me like I’m the air he desperately needs. My body is pressed flush to his, my soft to his hard, and I grasp his arms, holding on so that I don’t fall.
He tips my chin back, and my butt presses into the counter as he pushes against me. He grasps my hips and lifts me up, standing in the open space between my legs. My fingers delve into his silky hair, drawing him closer to me. More, I need more.
I can’t think, can’t seem to do anything other than focus on the feel of his lips against mine.
His fingers dig into my hips, but I don’t mind. The pressure keeps me grounded.
“Xander,” I moan his name into his mouth, and he nips my bottom lip.
My arms wind around his neck and I arch my body, pressing my breasts into his chest.
His hands ghost up my sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
He kisses his way down my neck and my head falls to the side, welcoming the press of his lips. My breaths come out as short pants, because he’s effectively stolen all the air in my lungs.
He cups my face, staring into my lust-filled eyes.
Xander has always been the one guy to make me weak in the knees. No one has ever measured up to him, and now that I’ve had a taste, I know no one ever will.
He kisses me once, just a brief press of his lips, but even still it feels as powerful as the passionate kiss we shared moments before. My body shakes, but it’s not with nerves like before; no, this is something more powerful, something I’m scared to even understand.
He tilts my chin up with a press of his finger, and my eyes meet his.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers. “Of me. Of us.”
I swallow thickly. “I don’t know where we go from here,” I admit.
My feelings are all over the place. I feel conflicted because who really wants to be married at nineteen, but this is Xander—the boy I’ve lusted after my whole life. There’s no one I love or trust more, so maybe this is some twist of fate b
ringing us together or something, but I always come back to the marriage thing.
Marriage is a big deal—at least to me, anyway—and not something to be taken lightly. And as much as I love Xander, as much as I always have, I don’t know if I’m really in love with him. It’s not like I know him enough in the romantic sense to feel that way.
But damn it, I want to get to know him that way.
I want to go on dates, and get flowers, and fall into bed together at night.
I just don’t know if I want it like this.
I feel like it’s fate’s way of mocking me—give me the guy I’ve always wanted but with one big ass string attached.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Xander chants, breaking into my thoughts. “Where’d you go? Down the rabbit hole, I presume?”
My lips twitch with the threat of a smile. “Something like that.”
Luckily, the timer goes off and saves me from further inquisition.
I know I can’t avoid talking to him about my thoughts forever, but right now, I need more time to think through things on my own.
Thea and I eat our pizza in relative silence. A silence I’m not used to. She’s always been chatty, and it’s something I’ve never minded. It feels weird to sit in the open kitchen and not have her tell me about something—a book she’s read, some football stat, or how cute she thinks the neighbor’s dog is.
I don’t try to get her to speak. I’m smart enough to know not to push her, and after the day we’ve had, she deserves the time to think. I know we’ve both already been doing a lot of it today.
We finish eating, and I volunteer to clean the plates. She smiles gratefully and leans her hip against the counter, watching me. I think about the night we shared, and the kiss not long ago, and I’m desperate to have her in my arms again. I feel like I’ve waited long enough to call her mine, and now that I have her, I still don’t really have her, and it sucks.
I wasn’t that drunk last night when we decided to get married, and she wasn’t either. I know, because I would’ve never gone through with it if for a single second if I thought it wasn’t something she really wanted.
We’ve been skirting around our feelings for years; last night, something imploded, and it couldn’t be ignored anymore.
“What movie do you want to watch?” I ask her, rinsing off one of the plates. When she doesn’t answer, I glance behind my shoulder and see that her eyes are glazed over and she’s lost in her thoughts, so I repeat my question.
She jumps slightly and bangs her elbow on the countertop. “Ow,” she cries, grabbing her elbow and rubbing the spot.
“You okay?” I ask, not asking about her elbow but how she’s feeling.
She nods, but I know she’s not. I’ve always had a sixth sense when it comes to Thea. When we were little, our parents used to joke about it, but I don’t think they had any idea how true it was. I remember once, when we were much younger—she was probably only about three and I was six—she tripped in her yard and skinned up her knee on a bunch of twigs and started crying. Even though I wasn’t the one hurt, I cried too, because even then her pain was mine, her joy was mine, and every other emotion in-between was mine too.
I finish with the dishes and dry my hands on a rag. Thea still stands there, never having answered my first question about the movie. I cross the few feet separating us and place my hands on her hips. She jolts at my touch and goosebumps prickle her skin. I can’t resist the upturn quirk of my lips when I see it.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, to ask her if she’s okay again, to prod into her inner thoughts and figure out what the fuck she’s thinking so I can fix it, but I know I can’t, and I have to let her figure it out on her own. I can’t understand why she’s so against this, against us. We’re right together, we always have been, and we’ve always fought what we wanted because Cade would never approve. But fuck Cade, he has no right to tell us that we can’t be together—and believe me, he’s warned me away from his sister too many times to count—but I’m sick and tired of trying to feel something with someone else when I only want Thea. I can’t do it anymore. I hope she sees that soon, that we’re good together—but I think she knows, and maybe that’s what’s scaring her, the reality that this could really be our forever.
I rub my hands up her arms and she shivers at my touch. Her hazel eyes look golden from the illumination of the sun shining through the window.
I cup her cheek and lean my forehead against hers. I don’t say anything. I don’t need to. I just want her to know that I’m here.
After a moment, she steps out of my embrace. “Jaws,” she says softly after a moment. “I want to watch Jaws.”
I smile widely. “Our favorite.” She nods. “You go put it on and I’ll pop the popcorn.”
She smiles, and her eyes light up with humor. “Don’t add so much butter this time. You nearly made me sick the last time you made it.”
“The more butter, the more delicious,” I reason.
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling nevertheless. She disappears into the family room, and I shamelessly ogle her ass—she has a nice ass, okay?
I pop the popcorn and pour it into a large orange mixing bowl before adding the butter. I do use less than I did the last time but it’s probably still too much for Thea.
Thea already sits on the large, black leather couch, covered in her favorite flannel blanket. She hits play when I sit down and I lift the bowl so she can stretch her legs out in my lap. We watch a lot of movies and TV shows together—Netflix is our kryptonite—so we have our routine down. I set the popcorn bowl on her knees so we can each reach for it with ease.
I’m glad that she’s willing to do something normal with me—that she’s not locking herself in her room and thinking of a million and one reasons why this won’t work.
An ache builds in my chest. One full of worry.
What if I can’t convince her that this is real? What if in three months she still wants a divorce?
I swallow thickly and my eyes bounce to her where she lays on the couch.
I don’t want to lose her, but I also know I’ll never break my promise, because I’ll do anything to make that girl happy even if it kills me in the process.
I lie awake in the dark, my thoughts going round and round in a circle. I can feel panic rising in my chest like a suffocating wave. I know there’s no chance of sleep finding me when I’m like this.
I throw back the covers and shove my feet into my slippers, stalking from my room and downstairs.
I jolt when I get to the bottom of the stairs and turn into the family room.
Xander sits on the couch, reading a book by the glow of one low light.
He hears me and looks up. His dark hair is a wild mess around his head, like he’d been tossing and turning in his bed before coming down here to find solace like I’d planned to do.
“Hi,” I say softly.
He looks me up and down, noting my loose t-shirt, shorts, and ratty slippers.
“Nice slippers.”
I shake my head. “Hey, they’re cute,” I growl.
He chuckles. “They’re falling apart.”
This is true, but I refuse to part with the shark-shaped slippers—ones Xander got me for my sixteenth birthday. It might seem like a stupid gift to some, but I’d cherished the nod to our love of Jaws.
When I don’t say anything, he adds, “I’m glad you still have them, though.”
I look down at them, falling apart and barely held together, the shark on my left foot missing a tooth so that it has an awkward smile. “They’re my favorite.” I shrug. “I can’t abandon them.” He puts a bookmark in his book and closes it. “What are you reading?” I ask.
He chuckles. “The Great Gatsby.”
“Again?” I laugh and creep closer to him. “Haven’t you read that like a million times now?”
He shrugs. “I guess I love it the same way you love those damn slippers.”
I laugh and take a seat on the couch, drawin
g my legs up and sitting sideways so I can face him. “Why are you up?” I ask him.
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Couldn’t sleep. I take it the same is true for you.”
I nod reluctantly. “’Lot on my mind.”
“Yeah, me too.” He looks away.
My heart lurches with fear that he’s having second thoughts about us, which is stupid because I’m the one that’s spent the whole day fighting this. If he is having second thoughts, I should be jumping for joy, not feeling so glum. I’m beginning to realize that the next three months are going to be harder than I thought. I mean, for instance, take the incident in the kitchen this afternoon—he kissed me and I just melted into him instead of pushing him away like I should have.
I clearly am a glutton for punishment.
I don’t know how I’m going to go to work tomorrow and act completely normal—like something monumental hasn’t happened.
Even though I’ve spent the day trying to ignore what’s happened, I can’t.
This man sitting beside me is my husband.
“Come here,” he says and opens his arms. I dive into them gladly, resting my head on his chest.
This right here feels like home, and I know I could get all too used to it.
He brushes his lips softly against the top of my head and whispers one low word.
“Please.”
I know what he’s saying without him even speaking the words.
He wants me to give him a real chance. He knows that I only agreed half-heartedly this morning. I don’t answer him, but I lean closer, and he sighs in relief.
Nothing more is said, and we both drift off to sleep.
I wake up early, thankfully, and carry Thea up to her bed. She’s so out of it that she doesn’t even stir as I lay her in her bed and pull the frilly pink blankets up to her chest.
I can’t help but stand there and look at her a few seconds longer.
She’s so beautiful and completely unaware of the effect she has on me.
When Stars Collide (Light in the Dark #2) Page 3
