Stella

It’s a Saturday night. I’m glad I can sleep all day if I want tomorrow because I can’t sleep at all. I also can’t stop staring at Rivers while he slumbers or wipe the smile from my face. I can’t believe I’m lying naked in bed with him and we did what we did.

Whether I should be or not, I’m giddy. Ridiculously so.

Not one regret has slipped into the little world of this bedroom. Not one doubt. Trying not to burst at the seams from excitement, I realize that I feel the best I’ve felt in years . . . maybe even since we were together years ago.

His body is sexy, his face handsome. He’s physical perfection—strong with broad shoulders, lean and tall. That’s just superficial stuff, but it’s a darn good package.

What that package holds inside is more precious than my own heart. An aura that can lighten up a room or bring it to its knees in his darkness. A soul that feels so full of hope when he looks at me that it’s tangible. I can touch it, hold it, and reattach his soul to mine.

I want to bury myself in his arms to recapture the protection of his love. He makes that feel possible. Rivers makes everything feel possible again.

His heart beats in sync with his every emotion in the clear depths of his soulful eyes. There are no games with him. When he wants something, he’s all in. He makes me believe in us again.

One eye opens and then his other. Reaching down, he takes my hand and brings it to his mouth to kiss not once, but three times. “What are you doing?” he asks. His voice is rocky like the cliffs of a rough morning, laced in seduction that speaks to my heart in rhythm and tone.

“Staring at you.”

His chuckle is deep, a reverb heard in his chest. Seriously, can he be any sexier? I’m thinking no.

But then he is. Grabbing me quickly, he flips me onto my back under him. His breath tickles my neck before he kisses a little too roughly. That’s going to leave a mark. At least I hope it does.

His hardness pushes between my legs, and I have my first regret of the night—putting the boxer shorts I had discarded earlier back on and him putting his on. I have no idea how I look but how he looks at me makes me feel beautiful. Lifting up, I kiss him, then whisper, “We can do more . . . if you want.”

“No protection,” he says on the cusp of his regret by the discontent on his face.

“I don’t care,” I say, getting caught up in the heat of the moment. “We never did before.”

“I haven’t earned your trust so don’t give it away so easily.” His hips push into mine. “Even if this does feel fan-fucking-amazing.”

“But I said I believed you.”

“I know. It means a lot to hear you say it, but I want you to feel it, and I don’t know if you do yet.”

“So if I feel your truth,” I say, slinking my hand between us. “I get this? Because if you ask me, I’m feeling a lot of your truth right now.”

He chuckles, his mouth falling open and his eyes dipping closed before he takes a deep breath and exhales. “You play dirty.”

“No, you’re playing too clean.”

“Too. You love that word. Too good. Too much. Too clean.”

“Too turned on. I want you. If that’s wrong, then I don’t want to be right.” I shrug and then move my hips to meet his while wrapping my arms around his neck. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Too good,” he replies with a smirk. “Especially too good considering we don’t have a fucking condom.”

I should care, but ever since I started letting our past go and feeling instead of thinking last night, I want to rub against him. So I do, and he lets me, kissing my shoulder, collarbone, the other shoulder, neck, under my jaw, and landing on my lips. Our tongues swirl together as our bodies grind against each other’s.

Like we used to do as teenagers, our make out sessions got heavier until there was no reason to wait to have sex. We were in lust, but more importantly, we were in love. When I open my eyes, it’s so easy for me to see why, and it has nothing to do with his looks. His love pours from him, his need for me almost dark around the bright center. We’re not just a one-time love affair or a relationship gone bad. We’re more than that. We’re eternal.

I kiss him again and again, missing the sensation of losing myself in him. Despite the thin layer of fabric between us, we move together and I’m feeling as one with him. I suck in a harsh breath and dig the back of my head into the pillow as my muscles tense and my mind goes black. “Yes. God.” Pushing. Pushing. I reach the peak as energy surges through me.

Rivers’s breathing is erratic in my ear and a moan follows as the length of him feels like steel against my soft center. He grounds a grunt with my name, hot breath hitting my ear before the weight of him sinks me deeper into my pleasure.

I tighten my arms around him, willing to drown in this bliss even deeper. My heartbeat starts to calm just as he rolls off me. His eyes remain closed, and his voice is deep, relaxed when he says, “What are you doing to me, woman?”

“Killing you by way of ecstasy.”

“Best way to die.”

When he looks at me, I ask, “What does this mean?”

His hand finds mine, though, his eyes never leave me. “What I want is you to want to explore the idea of us again.”

I snuggle against him. “I like exploring with you.”

He laughs lightly, but when his arm comes around me, I can tell by his hold he’s afraid of what’s to come. “In the morning, let’s not make this awkward. Let’s not be who we were last week. Let’s be the us we are right now, the us when our guards are down and we’re free from the outside world to just be still in each other’s arms. Can we do that?”

He’s right. The sun seems to shed light on unwanted emotions in the brightness of a new day. Is the world capable of ruining what’s so good between us right now? I hope not. “Morning won’t change what we are tonight.”

The top of my head is kissed, but no words follow. I eventually slip out of bed to clean up and then he takes my place right after. We silently climb back into bed and resume our position in each other’s arms. My eyes are heavy from the long day, but my heart feels light from the man I spent it with. I kiss his bare chest right in the middle of the star tattooed over his heart and let my mind drift away with the hours.

* * *

We’ve moved around this morning in relative silence, the wanderlust of last night evaporating in the sunlight. Although he dried my clothes, I choose to keep his Crow Brothers shirt to add to my growing collection. He doesn’t say a word, though I’ve caught a smug smile or two when his eyes glance between the shirt and my eyes.

He puts my car in park but leaves the engine running. With his hands firmly at ten and two on the steering wheel, he says, “When can I see you again?”

“Yesterday was fun.”

His smile brightens. “It was.”

The banquet comes to mind. Do I take the risk and ask him? It’s not his world and asking him would mean bringing him into mine. I’m not sure what he’ll say, but I ask anyway, “There’s this thing.”

His interest is piqued as an eyebrow rises. “Yeah, a thing?”

“A work thing. A banquet thrown to honor the staff and administration at the private school where I teach.” I start fidgeting with the loose strings of my cut-off shorts. “You can come. I mean, I’m sure that sounds so uninteresting compared to the stuff you do in your life, but it—”

“I’ll be there.”

“You will?”

“Yes. If you’re going, I’ll go to support you.”

“But you don’t even know when it is.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll make sure I’m there. You can text me the details and what to wear.”

I rest my hand on his leg. “Just like that? No details needed?”

“If I’m in Austin, I’ll be wherever you want me to be. Just like that.” He leans over, and we kiss. When our lips part and our eyes open again, I say, “Tuesday.”

“Tuesday,” he repeats with a smile. “When can I see you before Tuesday?”

“What are you doing today?”

“If you’re free, let me take you to dinner.”

“What about the hours between now and then?”

Leaning back against the headrest, he says, “I’m supposed to meet with Ridge to fuck around on some tunes we’re writing.”

“I might be speaking out of turn, but I’d love to hear you play again. Maybe you can fuck around with me. Meadow and I could come over and bring food to cook out. Beer as a bribe to let us hang around you rock stars.”

“You don’t have to bribe me to spend time with you. It’s all I’ve wanted for years, so I’m definitely up for it. I’ll get a hold of Ridge. You get a hold of Meadow and let me know.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He pops the driver’s door open and says, “I guess I should go.”

When he gets out, he comes around and opens my door before offering me a hand out. I remember his mom always telling me that she would make sure her boys always treated women with respect and kindness. She raised them on manners and with good hearts, filled their bellies with food, and their hearts with boundless love. She was a good mother. The best actually.

I’m not released the moment I’m on my feet. Quite the opposite. I’m pulled into his warm embrace, making my heart race as we avoid an inevitable goodbye. I’ve always been sensitive, a little shy, a little wild, and bewildered by the breadth of our love. Today I’m reminded why. Because I could be me when I had him. With Rivers, I was the Stella he saw in me.

His Juliet to my Romeo.

Are we fated to end so tragically?

That seems impossible with the feelings that flow so freely. “I don’t want to let you go,” he whispers.

“You’re not. You’ll be with me all day until I see you again later. Everything we said, everything we did will replay because the memories allow me to relive each amazing moment we just shared.”

“You’re quite the romantic for someone who said we were too much, or did it feel too good?”

“Both, but I can still get used to all the toos you want to throw my way.” We hold hands while walking around the back of my car. I slip into the driver’s seat, and with one hand on the roof of the car and the other checking my seat belt, he leans in, and says, “Kiss me goodbye.”

I kiss him, but there’s no way it’s a goodbye. It’s a promise to see him later. The door closes, and I put the car in reverse. I don’t look back at him because I’ll be tempted to stay. But when I begin to drive away, I do it anyway, catching a glimpse of him in my rearview mirror. He’s standing where I left him, and with one hand slightly raised, he waves.

Pumping the brakes, the car comes to a stop, and I push the gearshift into park. Opening the door, my seat belt comes off, and I fly through the parking lot of the theater and bar where we left his car yesterday.

The grin on his face was worth the effort, but when I fly into his arms and kiss him, I realize he is worth the effort. Angling my head to face his, he asks, “What are you doing, crazy girl?”

“When we kiss, I don’t want it to be a goodbye.”

“What do you want it to be?”

“A hello.”

He kisses me again. When I flatten back down on my heels, the wind whips around us, and the hot sun bears down in the middle of this parking lot, and he says, “Hello.”

“Hello.”