“Then how is it that they fit so perfectly?”
My mind immediately went back to finding him strumming his guitar, the mournful, wistful strains that had permeated the sky.
“I guess you inspire me.”
Soft laughter rippled out. “Maybe it’s you who’s inspiring me. I hadn’t written a single word in three months, Royce. Three months. It was like . . .” I struggled to find the right explanation. “It was like there was a void inside of me where nothing lived. Nothing breathed. And one minute of you, and there was a flicker of life. A spark.”
He grabbed my hand and splayed it over the phrase inscribed on his chest. “Like you sparked something here. Shouldn’t be possible, Emily.”
He said it as if it caused him regret. That he truly believed he shouldn’t be allowed to feel a thing for me.
I rolled over, making him angle farther back. I pressed my hand harder against the pounding that raged. Over the statement that made me want to weep. “Who is she? Who does this belong to?”
Torment seized his expression, and the name that groaned from his mouth came on a torrent of pain. “Anna.”
Anna.
I tried to picture her face. Wondered if she was anything like me. Why she would leave this beautiful man broken and scarred. My heart felt as if it’d become a hundred-mile-wide crater. “You told me last night that the only thing that mattered was my happiness. I want you to know that yours matters, too. It matters to me.”
He threaded his fingers loosely in the fall of my hair. “I shouldn’t want you, Emily.”
It was a warning. This boy’s heart was unavailable.
I wanted it anyway.
“Sometimes we need the very thing we think we shouldn’t.”
“Emily,” he groaned.
Heat lapped in the bare space that separated us.
No words needed for this understanding.
He just watched me with those eyes.
Learned me while I learned him.
And I was lost.
Lost to this man who was sucking me under.
I got the distinct sense that I was falling. That whooshing feeling when your heart got unstable, cracking open to make room for something that hadn’t been there before.
I knew I shouldn’t welcome him there, in that patchy, uneven ground that still hadn’t healed, especially when his seemed to be fortified by bricks and chains.
But I couldn’t seem to stop it.
There was something about him that made me want to fade right into him.
Melt under those hands and come alive under those eyes.
“I think you’re wonderful,” I whispered down at him.
For a beat, everything felt too heavy. The moment too intense.
Then he grinned, like he was shaking the severity off, and he tossed me onto my back on his bed. I bounced, my face breaking into a tender smile when he climbed over me.
Warmth spreading wide.
“You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, a hand tucking into my hair.
That was right before he dipped down and pressed his mouth to mine.
Magic.
Kissing Royce Reilly was nothing short of magic.
The soft pull of his lips. The decadent caress of his tongue. The drug of his scent.
I whimpered, then sighed when he pulled back far too soon.
“Tell me, Emily Ramsey . . . did you know it the second you were born that you were a star?”
Light laughter pulled up my throat. “My mama said I was a diva from day one. Throwing tantrums like nobody’s business.”
He grinned down at me. “I don’t believe it. You? Throwing tantrums?”
I swatted at his shoulder. “Are you mocking me?”
A tease widened his eyes. “Never.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His grin widened. “You’re all fire, Precious, but the best kind. A star bursting on the stage.”
My teeth clamped down on my lip to stop the blush. “You’re just trying to sucker me in.” It was soft and full of ribbing.
He rolled to his side, taking me with him, tucking my body close to his. “Is it working?”
“I’m pretty sure you could ask me to do anything right about now, and I’d be game.”
He laughed. “You should never say things like that to a man. I could come up with some pretty ingenious things.”
“You act like that scares me.”
A grumble rumbled around below my ear, the man’s heart beating an erratic thrum, thrum, thrum.
“Reckless girl,” he murmured at the top of my head.
“I’m just looking for what I want.”
“And what’s that? What is it you really want?”
I flinched a little, letting my thoughts wander. “You know, I was supposed to get married.”
I wondered if he knew anything of my past. If he’d researched who we were or if he’d simply been given a task.
He froze, and I lifted my head so I could meet the hatred that disfigured his expression.
Wow.
Not what I was expecting.
“No,” he grated. “I didn’t know that. You’re not . . .” He trailed off like he couldn’t bring himself to say it, though his attention was darting to the bare spot on my ring finger.