#Moonstruck_A #Lovestruck Novel

by Sariah Wilson

  More laughter.

  “Did you know what a huge crush she used to have on you?” Fitz asked, making me gasp. I threw one of my new pillows at him, and he easily caught it.

  Parker didn’t look away from the TV screen as he replied, “I forgot about that. When she was a teenager. Didn’t she have his poster on her wall?”

  “Really?” Ryan sounded far too pleased. “I thought you hated my music.”

  “I do. Some of it. Not all of it. I’m particularly partial to ‘Maisy.’”

  “That’s because you’re an egomaniac,” Cole informed me.

  “That’s enough of that,” I told them. “You have sufficiently humiliated me, and it’s late.”

  Catching my drift, Fitz and Cole wished me happy birthday again and said good night.

  “What’s it like getting to make out with your teenage crush?” Ryan teased as he pulled me close.

  “Shut up.”

  “Not a chance. I’ll be bringing this up a lot. Also, do you still have your band uniform? I think I’d like to see you in it.”

  “It’s not attractive,” I told him.

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” He kissed me with feathery, teasing kisses and pulled away before I could press for real ones. “Is there anything else you want for your birthday?”

  “At the moment I can think of one or two things.”

  His eyes darkened at my tone and expression. “Just so you know, you can unwrap me anytime you’d like.”

  At that, Parker called out, “Gag. I am sitting right here!”

  “I know where you are,” I told him. “Take the hint and go.”

  He finally did, leaving me somewhat alone with Ryan.

  “Where’s Fox?” I realized I hadn’t seen him at the party.

  “He gave me his two-week notice this afternoon. He wants to move back home to LA. My guess is to spend some more time with your best friend. I told him to go now and gave him the money for the two weeks and a generous severance package.”

  Even though Ryan didn’t say it, I knew he’d done for it me. Because of how much I wanted Fox and Angie to be together. Even if it inconvenienced him or the other guards on the tour.

  “You are seriously the best. Do you know that?” He was. Ryan De Luna was more than I could have ever hoped for.

  “I’ve been told.”

  “And the most humble.”

  As his arms tightened around me, holding me close, I decided that life couldn’t possibly get any better than this.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  For the next few weeks I traveled from city to city with my family and the man I loved. I knew Ryan had his faults. Like how he was temperamental, refused to eat food with flavor, and was sometimes prone to yelling. But there were so many good, amazing things about him that the bad stuff didn’t seem to matter. All those years I’d spent avoiding musicians—his musical side was easily among the things I liked best about him.

  And he totally tolerated my quirks. He didn’t care if I wanted to lock myself in a hotel room all day to write. I’d seen how many relationships my brothers had lost over things like that. Their girlfriends always felt less than. But Ryan got it.

  Sadly, though, the tour came to an end. We did our last concert in New York City, and after the performance Ryan promised that early the next morning, he would take me to his SoHo apartment and afterward show me all the touristy sights like the Statue of Liberty and Broadway. Then tomorrow evening the buses would be heading back to California. My brothers and I would put our house on the market when we got home while Ryan ramped up the publicity for his upcoming album and presumably planned his next tour.

  He told me he already had a good idea who the opening act should be and advised me to clear the band’s schedule.

  The next morning he brought me to his apartment. Which he should have called a penthouse, given how ridiculously big it was. On the top floor of a building that housed everyone from movie stars to athletes to foreign royals, it had the biggest windows I’d ever seen and the most amazing view. Exposed brick along the one interior wall, some industrial piping across the high ceiling, and a kitchen so bright and beautiful it looked as if it had never even been used. There weren’t any inside walls, just a large open space broken up by furniture.

  “How many homes do you have?”

  “Seven,” he replied.

  “That may be part of why you went broke,” I told him.

  Ryan smiled and shook his head. He wasn’t broke any longer. This tour had netted him a fortune. Not only in ticket sales but also in merch, downloads, and preorders for his next album. Thanks to his new business manager handling his finances, he no longer had to worry about the bottom falling out from underneath him again.

  “This place is so huge. Do you live here alone? Or do you have a housekeeper or something?”

  “I have a service that comes in to clean once a week. But today it’s just the two of us.”

  “Just the two of us?” We hadn’t been completely alone together since the music awards.

  He slid his arms around me. “Yep. Any suggestions on what we should do?” He began nuzzling my ear, which made my eyes roll into the back of my head. While Ryan had remained respectful of my boundaries, he reminded me of an explorer traveling up and down a river, looking for a place to ford it. If I let the waters recede just a little, he’d happily cross over.

  But I didn’t let him. Because despite how much I liked kissing and touching him, there always came this moment when we were together when I froze up, like I’d slammed into a massive iceberg. When we had reached a point where we had to stop because things could get out of control. Yes, I loved him, but I didn’t feel like I had to prove it. I loved myself and the decisions I’d made about how far I would take things physically.

  Not to mention that, given my father’s fertility, I was pretty sure despite whatever precaution might be used, I’d wind up pregnant. Much as I adored my own single mother, I was in no hurry to be one.

  “I think,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck, “that you should take me sightseeing like you promised.”

  “Not nearly as fun.” He sighed. He held on to my waist and put a bit of space between us.

  “I know. I have thought about what it would be like. How it might feel.” I already had some indication from what we had done. I wanted him to know he wasn’t totally alone in this.

  At that, he let out a soft groan, lowering his forehead against mine. “You can’t say things like that. I’m not made out of stone.”

  The muscles in his arms begged to differ as I trailed my fingers along his biceps. “I’m not trying to make things harder for you. I want to be honest.”

  His lips pressed against my forehead. “Sometimes, for my sanity, it’s okay to keep your honesty to yourself.”

  “Noted. But I’m grateful to you for how respectful you’ve been.”

  “It has been a massive sacrifice, because every time I get close to you like this, my brain turns off completely, and I can think of only one thing.”

  His words sent a series of delicious chills through me. “How Say Anything is the best movie you’ve ever seen?”

  That got me one of his wickedly charming smiles. “No. I think about touching you. Holding you. And a lot less clothing being involved.”

  The chills turned into streams of fire. I gulped, hard. “You could maybe keep some of your honesty to yourself, too.”

  That made him laugh. “I’m going to go take a very cold shower.” He gave me a quick kiss. There was a spiral metal staircase on the south side of the apartment, and he followed it upstairs. “You’re more than welcome to join me.”

  “I’m good.” I was trying desperately not to think about him undressing.

  I walked around, giving myself a little tour. It was probably supposed to be a bachelor pad, but the apartment didn’t give off that vibe. It felt like a family should live here and fill this vast space with love and memories.

  The weird t
hing was, I could see this being my home. I could envision myself in this corner of the apartment, next to the piano, writing a new hit song. Holding a baby while a toddler played at my feet. Ryan chasing our oldest in circles around the kitchen island. I could hear the laughter and feel the love and the happiness.

  Maybe I was being overly sentimental because the tour was ending, or maybe it was because ever since he’d first brought up the idea of marriage and babies, I’d spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about it. Imagining it.

  Now I wanted what I was imagining. Despite how scary and life-ruining it had always seemed before, spending all that time with Ryan had changed how I felt. I wanted a commitment and kids and everything. Some people might have thought I was too young, but I’d had to grow up practically overnight after my mom’s accident. I’d been an adult for a long time.

  Despite my rules, I wanted all of it with Ryan. Which overwhelmed me and then made me all emotional.

  Ryan found me in the middle of the living room, crying.

  “Sweetheart, what happened?” He sat down on the couch next to me and pulled me onto his lap. “Did you go online again?”

  His still-wet hair dripped against my skin. “I’ve thought about it.”

  “Thought about what? Going online?”

  “No. Our future.”

  A second earlier his hands had been stroking my hair and rubbing my back, and then he went totally still.

  “And?”

  “I can see you in mine. I can see marriage and babies.”

  “And it makes you cry?”

  “It doesn’t make me cry like that,” I told him. “The idea of it happening makes me happy. For someday. Not tomorrow or anything.”

  He let out an exaggerated sigh. “That means I’ll have to cancel the private jet to Vegas.”

  “Ha ha. Like you’d get on a plane.”

  “For you I might consider it.” His hands went back to soothing me.

  “You really love me that much?”

  “I do. And, hey, maybe you should practice saying ‘I do.’ Not for any particular reason. Just in case.”

  “Ryan?” I turned my face up. “I do.”

  Then I kissed him. I kissed him with all the hope, all the longing, all the dreams and promises of someday bursting inside me. Every cell inside me exploded with light, heat, and happiness.

  He kissed me so softly and tenderly that I sighed against his lips. “Promise me something,” I said.

  “Anything.”

  “Promise me I can trust you.”

  He pulled back, his eyes serious, his expression truthful. “I promise you can trust me.”

  The next few words nearly caught in my throat. “Promise me you’ll never hurt me.”

  Ryan blinked, nothing wavering on his face. “I promise I’ll never hurt you.”

  He went back to our kiss, and his words caused a swell of love that I’d never experienced before. I could trust him. He wouldn’t hurt me. Everything he’d said was true, and I knew it. My last clear thought was that I wished I could thank whatever pleech, groupie, or girlfriend had taught him to kiss this way. He used easy, delicious glides that had me clinging to him, trying to get closer.

  He moved in a steadily increasing rhythm, a constant drumbeat, that robbed me of my breath and ability to think. Our lips were like two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly. We pressed them together, moving in warm, sensual strokes.

  As always, Ryan kept the kiss in that controlled range where we both really enjoyed it, but I could sense the wall he stayed behind. The line he wouldn’t go past because I’d told him not to. His restraint felt like a physical barrier erected between us. Behind that wall there was a passion I wanted. I didn’t know if it was because of our earlier conversation, or his promises, or because I now knew I would marry Ryan De Luna, but I found myself wanting to experience it. With him.

  I pushed into him. Wrapped my arms around his neck. I broke the kiss off long enough to say, “I want more.”

  “More what?”

  “More,” I repeated in a breathy voice that sounded nothing like my own.

  I saw his Adam’s apple bob and a slight nod, and then he captured my lips with a desperate, hungry urgency.

  This was what I’d wanted. More of this.

  Restraint gone, walls demolished, lines erased.

  His lips feverishly explored mine as if he wanted to memorize every square inch of them completely. I let out a little groan of pleasure, and I felt his hands tighten around my ribs in response.

  Then he used those same hands to separate us. To pull back. To hold me in place so I couldn’t keep kissing him.

  “Maisy.” I heard the warning in his roughened whisper, but I also heard the longing in it. “We should stop.”

  “Don’t you want this? Don’t you want to kiss me?”

  He closed his eyes as if my questions physically hurt him somehow. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  His words embedded a hot spike in the pit of my stomach, sending flares of heat everywhere.

  Ryan opened his eyes slowly. “But I’m trying to be respectful.”

  Swallowing hard, I told him, “It’s not your respect I want right now.”

  As if that was all he needed to hear, Ryan crushed me against him, his fierce, hot lips seeking and devouring. His hands were in my hair, stroking my face, rubbing my neck. His touch turned my heart volcanic, pumping lava through my veins, making my skin flush in response.

  Ryan’s strong body molded against mine as he laid me on the couch, never breaking the contact between our mouths. When he had me flat against the cushions, he leaned back to look at me.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured, running his fingertips against my skin, leaving pools of molten fire behind. It was the kind of heat that brought tiny beads of sweat to my hairline and along my lower spine.

  He closed in, totally intent on only me, his scorching kisses demanding more and more, just as I had wanted. Every fiber of my flesh was alight with fire, as if somebody had tossed me onto one of those funeral pyres. I burned. Ryan burned.

  He kissed me like I’d made all his wishes come true. He kissed me like he was desperately afraid of losing me. He kissed me like I was cold water and the only person who could douse the flames.

  Instead, I made it burn brighter and harder.

  I ran my fingers along his flexed biceps and over his broad, muscular shoulders, loving all the pent-up strength just beneath the surface. Then I brushed them against his smooth jaw, missing his shadowy stubble that usually turned my delicate skin bright red after he’d finished kissing me. I let the strands of his damp, silky hair caress my fingertips.

  As I explored the feel of him, Ryan did the same. Only he used his mouth. I felt his hot breath skim across my neck, my shoulder, leaving a fluttering, tingling sensation that increased a thousandfold when his mouth finally made contact with my skin. I gasped as his lips glided across my throat. My pulse sizzled beneath his touch, sensations spiraling out.

  “I love you, Maisy.” His rough, husky voice sounded thick in his throat and caused heat to pool into my abdomen.

  “I love you, Ryan.” His feverish hands turned my body into one frantic ache, my back arching against him.

  It was going too far. Everything was about to spiral out of control. He had been right earlier. We should have stopped. Or we should stop now. There was no iceberg moment, though. It was more like somebody had nudged a tiny snowball in my direction.

  With a strength I didn’t know I possessed, I pulled my mouth away from his and pressed against his shoulders. “Ryan, wait. You were right. We need to stop.”

  His eyes were unfocused, his breath ragged. “I don’t want to.”

  I didn’t, either, but I kept that piece of information to myself. I felt a tad guilty; I hadn’t meant to lead him on. It was just . . . I understood where he was coming from when he said being close made his brain turn off. It did that for me, too.

  “I kn
ow. But we need to.”

  A few moments passed, and he pressed one last scalding kiss against my jaw before he sat up and moved to the opposite end of the couch. I tried to sit up, too, even though my bones currently had the same consistency as broth. Like every muscle in my body had failed to report to work today and refused to move or respond to my internal commands.

  “Are you sure I can’t talk you into that Vegas flight?” His smile was rueful, and even though he was teasing, I seriously considered it.

  “Maybe.” I didn’t joke. Ryan’s expression changed, and he reached out to me with one hand.

  “Maisy, are you saying that you would—”

  I became aware of a buzzing sound that I thought was coming from somewhere inside me until I realized it wasn’t.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “My intercom,” he said dismissively. “Some Luna-tic site posted my apartment number, and it’s usually some teenagers hoping I’ll come down and see them. Ignore it. This is more important.”

  I couldn’t ignore the sound because it kept happening. “Ryan. You should answer that.”

  With a growl and a choice word, Ryan got to his feet and stalked to his front door. He pushed a button on an intercom and said, “What?”

  “Mr. De Luna, I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s a young woman here named Cecilia Williams, who is demanding she be let up to see you.”

  “I don’t know anyone named Cecilia Williams.” Ryan leaned his forehead against the wall as my muscles started to show signs of life.

  There was a pause, and the doorman on the other end answered, “She says you’d know her as CeCe.”

  I saw Ryan straighten up, his back tighten. He turned to look at me with trepidation in his eyes. “Can you tell her I’ll text her?”

  Now I had the strength to stand up. What was going on?

  “She says it’s an emergency and she has to see you.”

  I crossed my arms as goose bumps broke out. What kind of emergency? Had something happened to Ryan’s dad? To his aunt Bibi? Ryan stared at me as he pushed the button. “Let her come up.”

  “Who’s CeCe?”

  Ryan walked over and grasped my hand tightly. “Someone I used to date a long time ago. An actress. It’s been over for years.”