Kiss the Stars

by Jackson, A. L.

  Not with the hurt she’d worn at the dinner table so clearly emblazoned on my mind.

  “I’m sorry if I came off like a prick at dinner tonight. I just . . . can’t afford to get involved.”

  Disbelief puffed from her nose, and those eyes were tracing me again.

  “Who said I wanted you to get involved?” Girl was trying to mask her defense in a tease.

  Casual.

  When nothing about this felt casual at all.

  I rumbled a hard sound that reverberated in my chest, and I was stalking forward, crossing so many goddamn lines as I rushed to get in front of her before I could stop myself.

  My hand burned up the second I set it on her cheek. “You think I don’t feel it, Mia, what’s coming off you every time we get in the same room? I don’t know what the fuck it is, but it’s there.”

  And it was torturing me.

  Shock filled her expression, and her tongue darted out to wet her plush lips at the same second her eyes were dropping to mine.

  Fuck.

  My hand curled tighter to her cheek, letting the guilt—my duty—become my restraint. “I don’t even know you . . . but there’s just something . . . something that got under my skin the second I saw you back in L.A. Know you feel it, too, Mia. But it doesn’t matter that it’s there. It doesn’t change one fucking thing. It doesn’t change who I am.”

  Mia’s voice came at me like a song, low and intense and cutting to the quick. “I can’t help but wonder why you’re here. After that night, how could you be standing in front of me all the way across the country? I don’t believe in a coincidence that big.”

  Rough laughter crawled up my throat. “Don’t need to count it a coincidence. We have friends that run the same circles. Your brother asked for me. We were bound to meet again.”

  “And maybe there is a reason for that,” she challenged.

  “And maybe that only reason is for me to be reminded of what I can’t have.”

  Fuck.

  What the hell was I doing? Letting this shit spill from my mouth?

  A scourge I would forever suffer.

  She detangled herself from me, turning away, the girl little more than a silhouette and seduction. She moved back for the blank canvas, her hips swaying, whipping up a lust-inducing breeze.

  Delicious.

  Decadent.

  My mouth watered, urges hitting me to lick her up and down.

  She peeked at me from over her bare shoulder. “I think if you asked nicely enough, you could.”

  Motherfuck. I was right.

  This girl was nothing but temptation.

  Wicked, perfect sin.

  “You don’t even know what you’re asking for, princess.”

  She let go of a soft, cynical laugh. “I’m no princess, Leif.”

  No rational thought remaining, I edged up behind her like I had some kind of right.

  Pretending in that singular second that I wasn’t committing a thousand wrongs.

  Consequences be damned, I leaned in and murmured at her ear, “You’re right. You’re an angel. So sweet you’re unreal.”

  My fingertips grazed her hip.

  A shock raced up my arm.

  Need and lust and gluttony.

  I breathed her in.

  Cocoa and cream.

  She peeked back at me, everything in her demeanor shifting in a flash.

  Sadness flooding in.

  “Then why am I the one being condemned?”

  Those eyes were wide. Flush with vulnerability.

  Something ferocious clawed through my stomach, chest tightening as I was slammed with the same thing as I had been that first night.

  Her fear.

  My fingers found their way into the drape of her dark, dark hair. I weaved them all the way in to tickle along the crease of her neck.

  She sighed a needy sound, her head dropping that way, like she was granting me the keys to a land that I could never conquer.

  Still, I leaned in and inhaled deep. My words were a growl as unchained possessiveness singed my senses. “And who is condemning you? Who hurt you, Mia? Your brother said you’d been through hell and back.”

  Considering I was already headed there myself, I might as well take down a bastard or two on my way.

  “I’m pretty sure the last thing you want to hear are my problems.”

  “Try me,” I grunted.

  Needed to know. This twisted protectiveness rising up. The feeling that I wanted to cover her whole.

  “Why, so you can use it against me?”

  “No. So, I can know what the fuck it was your brother was implying. Don’t like being kept in the dark.”

  So, I could know exactly who was going to die. Just like I’d told her that night, I’d be glad to hunt the motherfucker down.

  She laughed a disbelieving sound. “I’m not close to being your problem.”

  My mouth was at her ear. “You feel like a problem to me.”

  Awareness spun.

  Need and possession. Muscles twitching with the demand to make her mine. To get lost in her skin and this body and those eyes.

  Knew I wouldn’t make it back if I did.

  It didn’t change a thing because I was pressing her. “Tell me.”

  She shivered.

  “Tell me, princess, what’s so bad in your life that your brother thinks he needs to lock you up in his castle?” The words came out like blades, like the anger didn’t know where else to go.

  She whirled on me.

  Pissed.

  I seemed to have that effect on people.

  “Fine,” she spat. “You want to know what happened? My best friend was murdered. And I had to stand there and watch it. Helpless. Horrified. The whole time wondering if he was going to turn that gun on me. That’s what happened.”

  Fuck.

  Rage grated my teeth. “Who? Tell me goddamn who. Just give me a name.”

  She blew out a cynical breath. “If I had a name, things would be a whole lot easier, wouldn’t they? I wouldn’t be running scared. Wouldn’t lay awake at night terrified for the safety of my children. I wouldn’t be jumping at every noise or having panic attacks when some jerk gets too close to me.”

  It would have been better if she had the same reaction to me.

  If she stepped away when I curled my palm around the side of her neck.

  But she just stood there with her pulse ravaging. Those eyes wild.

  Vulnerable and resolute.

  I had the overwhelming urge to wrap her up and hide her away.

  Erase any threat.

  Destroy any danger.

  “Tell me,” I demanded. “Tell me what the fuck happened to you.”

  I was a fool to think I had the right. A fool to think I could take on this responsibility. But there was no chance I could walk out of that room without knowing what she’d suffered.

  Shivers raced across her flesh, and her throat trembled as she swallowed. “Her name was Lana. We had this little gallery. We’d dreamed of opening it since we were in college, bringing our two arts together. We’d had the best day. Sold three paintings and a sculpture.”

  Anguish flashed across Mia’s face.

  Stricken.

  “We’d had a glass of champagne to celebrate in the back. We . . . we were locking up . . .”

  Fury bloomed in my blood, and my hand twitched on her neck. “A man came in. He was wearing a mask. He demanded that I give him anything of value. I went behind the counter, and instead of getting out the cash, I pressed the panic button. I should have just done what he’d told me. I should have. If I could go back. God, if I could go back, I would do it all over.”

  Moisture gathered in Mia’s eyes. “He just . . . gave me this look when I did. Like he was happy I’d done it. Then he pulled the trigger.”

  Motherfucker.

  “They said they thought it was random, Leif. A robbery gone bad. Her blood spilled for a few hundred dollars.”

  The last broke on a s
ob.

  Fury raced, and every muscle in my body twitched for retribution. “Motherfucker needs to die.”

  Shivers raced across her flesh, a flashfire of horror. “He found me. The night of the gala. And I don’t even know who he is or what he wants, but he found me. He was there.”

  Malice spiked in my blood, the words a curse as I realized what this had become. “And now you’re here.”

  She sniffled, trying to hold it together while I stood there and interrogated her like she was the one to blame. “And now I’m here. Where you are.” Her voice shifted in some kind of plea.

  I couldn’t stop the feeling that I was a second from coming unglued.

  Disjointed, and there was a piece of me being regenerated in her.

  “I wonder if the reason we feel this way around each other is because you know exactly what that feels like. Dying inside because you miss someone so much. Because you wish you could go back and change it and there isn’t a damn thing you can do. I feel it coming off of you, Leif. I feel it. How is that possible that I can feel you this way?”

  She curled her fingers in my shirt. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  I wanted to push her back. Hold her close.

  Fuck. This girl made me insane.

  Old agony throbbed. An ache so intense I was sure I was getting ready to blow.

  Combust.

  “Or maybe you’re so used to the pain, that’s the only thing you know how to look for,” I told her.

  Clearly, she’d experienced more than her fair share. Girl written in the strength exposed by her scars.

  The corner of her mouth trembled. Rejection in what I’d said. What she didn’t get was I was doing her a favor.

  “Is that what you want, to hurt me?”

  There she was, back to asking me the same question she’d demanded the first time our paths had crossed.

  Problem was, Fate and Karma were old friends and they were laughing their asses off while they were frolicking around in the pool behind us.

  “Only thing I know how to do, Mia.”

  “But I bet it would feel good, wouldn’t it? If we let go? If I let myself fall, would you be there to catch me? Just for a little while?” Her hands cinched tighter.

  A rumble of a laugh rolled around in my chest.

  Wicked little angel.

  This girl was disorder. Sweet to the bone and sexy to the core.

  I bet if anyone asked anything from her, she’d give it. But she wasn’t ashamed to ask for what she wanted for herself, either.

  “Believe me, baby, a few minutes of bliss is never worth the pain that comes with the aftermath. And you obviously have too much to live for to be taking those kinds of chances on me.”

  Her eyes darted to the door that was cracked open an inch. No doubt, her kids were sleeping down the hall. That gaze came back to me. A pleading confession. “They’re my world.”

  “As they should be, and I refuse to get in the middle of that.”

  Tried not to puke when the visions flashed.

  Cruel, vile pictures of what I’d done. What I’d been responsible for. What I could never take back.

  I needed to remember my purpose. The reason I still breathed.

  Her disbelieving laughter was rough, laden with hurt and disgust. “So I’m a no go because I have the horrible complication of being a mother?”

  It was an accusation.

  Like she couldn’t look at me for a second longer, she jerked away, turning to leave.

  Panic belted me.

  I grabbed her by the wrist because I couldn’t let her walk away thinking something so wrong. She released a sharp gasp when I yanked her back around.

  I leaned in close, the words gritted from between my teeth. “No. Because of the horrible complication of who I am. You want to know what I think about your kids?”

  She blinked, unable to keep up.

  “I think they’re fucking amazing, and I think you’re the luckiest damned woman to get to call them your own. That you get a love like that. But I don’t.” My teeth ground as I spat out the words.

  She swayed, caught in a web. Not sure if she wanted to run or if she wanted to stay.

  But I wasn’t done, yet.

  “You want to fuck, Mia? Fine. Let’s do it. I’ll gladly devour your sweet little body. I’ll mark myself so deeply on you, you will never forget me. But you and I both know whatever this is? It’s more than that. More than I can give. More than I can handle. And believe me, it is more than you want. And the last thing I want to do is leave another scar on who you are. I think you’ve had plenty enough.”

  Soft lips parted in surprise, in need, and fuck, I wanted to gorge on the sound. Her heart pounded in the bare space between us and those sable eyes darted all over my face.

  “Is that what you think of yourself? That you’re some awful human being?”

  A dark chuckle rolled free. “You said it yourself. I’m nothing but trouble.”

  And that title wasn’t some kind of cute nickname.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “What you believe doesn’t change who I am.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. “And maybe you’re the first beautiful thing I’ve seen since the last of the beauty was ripped from my life. I can’t sleep. I can’t dream. I can’t paint. And then you came here . . .”

  She trailed off. Unable to put a finger on what she felt or maybe not wanting to put a voice to it.

  Agony clawed at my insides. That feeling overwhelming. This girl too fucking much.

  My gaze moved to the blank canvas behind her. Slowly, I turned her back to face it. Taking her hand, I dipped it into the black paint.

  Images of the paintings that hung in the house gusted through my mind, that haunting intuition that this girl held.

  I clutched her by the wrist, and I set my lips against her cheek. “The only thing you see when you look at me is your beauty reflected back. You are the true definition of it, Mia. Beauty. You stole my breath the first time I saw you. You are the creator of it. I won’t taint that.”

  Didn’t matter if I knew her for a day or a month or a year.

  Some people bled goodness. Kindness and hope.

  Mia?

  She gushed it.

  The problem was, she was lost to a flood of goodwill.

  All her broken, mangled pieces swept up in the torrent.

  She slashed a single stroke down the length of the canvas. “And what happens when the beauty is gone? What happens when none of it is left inside?”

  I pressed my front to her back, my hard up against her soft.

  There was no way to mix it without something breaking.

  My hand splayed across the pounding in her chest, my fingers tapping out the beat of a song that sought to be released. One that had possessed my spirit in an instant. Lyrics alive in my mind.

  You came out of nowhere.

  A trainwreck.

  Paradise.

  Moved.

  Desolate.

  Would give it all up.

  If it would keep you from falling apart.

  My mouth moved to the shell of her ear. “You’ll find it. You just have to look in the right places.”

  God knew, she wouldn’t find it in me.

  I forced myself to step back.

  Felt like I was rending myself in two. Talk about fucked up. Didn’t even know this girl, and she managed to make herself feel like something that had been missing all along.

  Like she was essential.

  Natural.

  Fated.

  The perfect torment.

  What could never be.

  Eleven

  Leif

  Sixteen Years Old

  Keeton held open the door at the back of his auto-repair shop. One I’d chalked up to as storage but I was getting the drift real quick that it was used for undivulged purposes that I hadn’t before been privy to.

  “Go on in.”

  Wasn’t even wary when I angled through t
he door, floating on this high from the bike ride over.

  Didn’t think I’d ever experienced anything that made me feel so powerful.

  So free.

  So right.

  Like I’d just come into who I was supposed to be.

  Vitality pumping in my blood, I stepped into the back room, eyes taking in the space. A couple tables were set up in the middle, and there was a bar in the back.

  The excitement I was drunk on only dipped for a single beat when I took in the men filling the space.

  A couple faces I recognized.

  Most that I didn’t.

  All of them rough like Keeton. Worn at the edges. Aggression and intimidation written in their bones. Didn’t take a lot to surmise they did bad, bad things.

  All those questions I’d had about my stepdad for the last couple years suddenly made perfect sense.

  Every single one of them was looking at me.

  Like they’d been waiting on my arrival.

  Coming up to stand beside me, Keeton squeezed my shoulder. “Someone get this kid a drink. It’s his birthday.”

  One of the guys behind the bar poured a tumbler full of golden liquid.

  He slid it my way.

  I glanced back at Keeton.

  Again, wondering if I was bein’ punked.

  Set up.

  Because this just wasn’t right. Keeton nearly knocked out my teeth the one night he’d caught me stealing beers for me and a couple of my friends.

  “Go on.”

  My brow lifted.

  He chuckled a rough, commanding sound. “Grab your drink. Then sit down and listen.”

  * * *

  My job was easy. There wasn’t a whole lot I had to do. Sit in the front of the shop. Make it all look legit. Book appointments. Make sure the mechanics actually did their damned jobs so Keeton could do his.

  Sit back and reap the benefits.

  Money.

  More cash than I could fucking count.

  Not to mention damned near any girl I wanted would gladly take a seat on my dick.

  It made me feel like some kind of god.

  Flush with power.

  All I had to do was ride my bike up the street, and the seas parted. Fear and respect synonymous with the name.