I sit up, smiling at the silver wrapping paper. “And it’s not even my birthday.”
I tear at the paper, tossing it on the floor, then settle the black velvet box in my lap and open the lid. My chest hitches at the gold necklace inside. I lift it up, and there’s a star dangling from the chain, outlined in gems. It’s simple yet elegant, the type of classic jewelry I’d pick out for myself. “Are those real diamonds?”
“Would I give you fake ones?”
“I mean, I’d love it either way. It’s beautiful . . .”
“Here, let me.” He takes the necklace, and I lift my hair so he can slide it around my neck and connect the clasp. He picks up the star and settles it on my chest. His fingers stroke the star, making my skin hum.
“Because you’re a burst of light,” he says softly. “Because you believe in people. Because I can’t look up at the night sky without thinking about you. You’re a star.”
My heart swells with emotion, at the tenderness in his gaze. “Ronan . . . I’m in love with you. I love you.”
The room feels hot, and my thoughts scatter as he inhales a sharp breath.
I see hesitation in his eyes. Loneliness. Fear.
I see a man standing alone on a precipice, needing to take that one step . . .
My lips quirk ruefully as I hold his gaze. For the first time since Andrew, I’m all in with a man, my cards on the table. “Too soon?”
He flounders for words, his eyes searching my face. “Nova . . . I’m on the short list for Stanford. It’s not what I want, but I’m looking into it to make sure. I’m being up front and honest. I don’t know the future.” He licks his lips. “Be patient with me. I don’t want to . . . screw us up. Remember possibilities? That’s what’s happening here, okay? Life is happening, and I don’t know how it will all shake out, but you . . . you make sense.”
I nod jerkily as he pulls me to him, his fingers stroking my back. I wanted him to tell me he loves me too, but . . .
I’m going to be brave and go with us as we are and savor each moment we share. If it flays me alive and cuts me open in the end, then fine, I took a chance, and in the end that’s all a person can do to find happiness.
He kisses the top of my head. “How about a game?”
“Rules?”
“This time you tell me what to do,” he says.
“Okay. Put my thong on, Fancy Pants.” I lean over and grab it from the floor and dangle it in front of him.
“Hell to the no.”
“Cheater. My rules . . .”
He narrows his eyes at me, and I try to keep a straight face but end up laughing, pushing the earlier emotional moment aside. “I’m sorry, but your face . . .” I stop as he tosses me back on the bed and tickles me. I flail around underneath him as he captures my wrists and pins them above my head. His lower body rests on top of mine as we breathe heavily. My head arches up, and I take his mouth in a demanding kiss, and he groans, our lips meshing over and over.
“Jesus . . . you’re . . .” He stops and puts his face in my neck, taking deep breaths.
“What?” I ask.
“Everything a man could ever want. I need you right now. I need to be inside you.”
I press into his hips, and he moans, rotating against me. His length is hard and thick on my leg, his mushroom-shaped crown wet. “Take me like this,” I demand. “And look me in the eyes and tell me you need me.”
“I do, Princess,” he murmurs as he sinks into me slowly, his gaze locked with mine. “I need you, I need you . . .”
Chapter 23
NOVA
“How was your date with Skeeter?” I pass Sonia an e-cig, and she takes a long toke, vapor billowing in the closet.
She grimaces. “So it was going well. We came in separate cars, you know, just in case things went south. We sat down and ordered. He was eating his chicken wings, and I was munching on my salad. I was nervous. Quiet. I needed to pee but didn’t want to get up. The restaurant was packed. And he just keeps talking and talking, probably because I’m not. Then I gulp water and get choked. It went down the wrong pipe, and the coughs just kept coming and coming.
“My face turned red. My hands flailed. My glass spilled, and my salad tumbled to the floor. Lettuce and carrots and cheese on my pants. People stared. I mean, it got quiet as a church in the Roadhouse. I grabbed my throat; then Skeeter jumped out of his seat. I’m sputtering, and my stomach is jumping from all the coughing, and I think I just might hurl—or pee—then he tries to do the Heimlich on me, and I’m gasping, trying to tell him that it’s not food lodged in my throat, just fucking water! Finally, I get free and dart for the restroom, where I pee forever and get my breath back. I stayed in there for twenty minutes, hoping he’d just leave without me, but oh no, he comes looking for me, like, knocks on the door and then comes in, and there I am, crying on the toilet! And that’s how it bloody went!”