Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
The outdoor lights flip off, and more stars, tiny clusters not visible before, shine in the inky sky. There are so many. Yet, I can only see a fraction of them.
I tug the blanket tighter around my shoulders, shimmying down the lounger until I’m flat on my back.
I should be more excited about the CMAs.
It’s one of the things I dreamed about as a little girl, watching Carrie Underwood and Miranda Lambert walk the red carpet while I sprawled across the blue one in our TV room, with its wood-paneled walls and furniture my grandmother bought decades earlier.
But, in my head, I was there in one of those sparkling gowns, with perfect posture and a perfect smile.
And now I will be.
Yet, instead of being out-of-my-mind happy, I’m sitting on the balcony off Miles’s and my bedroom feeling like I might cry about it.
My.
Despite what I thought when I drove here in Betty Bronco, this place does feel like mine.
Like home. And unlike the double-wide trailer I grew up in, it’s not one I want to leave.
It has nothing to do with the square footage or the number of bedrooms, and everything to do with the man who shares it with me.
I never wanted to leave my family, but I wanted a different life. The one I dreamed of. But I didn’t expect a new one on top of it. Didn’t think a life full of hockey scores and a much-too-demanding cat could fill me just as much as spotlights and a stage.
I played with Barbies, but Ken was a placeholder, not a person. I never could picture his face. Not once, in all the years of almost-relationships and wrong-time-wrong-person and collecting friends instead of lovers. And then, without meaning to, I could. I can.
The door slides open. The man himself pauses at the threshold, then steps out onto the balcony. Of course he found my hiding spot.
“There you are.” He looks down at me, shirt untucked, sleeves pushed up, hair messy from running his hands through it. “What’re you doing out here?”
“Thinking.” I pat the cushion at my side in invitation.
“Anything you wanna share?” He sits on the lounger, near my hip.
I’m definitely not going to unload all of that, so I say, “You ever wonder why important people are called stars? The hockey star, the movie star, country music star, Summer Starling—” I make an arc with my hand, as if my name’s up there.
He tips his head up.
“Never really thought of it.”
“Like they’re so rare and brilliant. Yet, there are hundreds of billions of stars in the sky. They come out every night. I’m not sure you could pick a more abundant, ordinary thing.”
He smiles, fingers absentmindedly playing with my hair.
“Feeling existential, are we?” His gaze tips down again.
I huff a laugh. “Guess so.”
Miles lies back, settling at my side, then pulls me close. His fingers draw lazy patterns on my arm where he holds me, making sure I don’t slip off the side.
Silent, we look up at the twinkling lights.
“Maybe because they’re so far away. They’re untouchable. And they shine,” he murmurs.
“Not those little guys.” I point to a dull cluster of tiny specks.
“Well, against the black sky, even they stand out.”
I hum. “That’s true.”
“But you’re that one, Starling.”
I follow his pointed finger to the brightest, biggest star in the sky.
Then, I return to his profile.
“You’re just saying that because you love me.” The words are out without a thought.
Miles turns his head until our eyes connect, his gaze like a caress across my face. Not alarmed or even surprised.
My pulse picks up, but I don’t take it back, don’t try to correct it or soften the meaning. I know it’s the truth in the marrow of my bones.
“I love you,” I say, low enough to be soft but loud enough to be heard.
His hand cups my jaw, keeping my eyes on his. I wasn’t planning to look away.
“Fuck. I love you, too,” comes out on a harsh breath, his thumb tracing my cheekbone.
Nothing else matters. Not the CMAs. Not the playoffs. Not June.
There’s only us.
Here and now.
He kisses me, hand sliding to the back of my neck, and I press my palm flat against his chest, over his heart.
His fingers find the hem of my shirt, and cool air hits my skin as he pulls it over my head.
The April night still has a bite to it, but he’s warm.
I tug at his shirt, and he helps me unbutton it, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank it off, before his mouth finds mine again.
We’re a tangle of limbs on the narrow lounger, hands pulling at remaining clothing until we’re both bare. He shifts above me, settling between my thighs, and the stars above us look brighter now.
He grinds against me, and we both groan at the contact, my eyes closing as he moves through my wetness, each slow drag pulling a soft whimper from me. I reach between us and position him at my entrance.
He eases back enough to look at where we’re connected, then up to my eyes. “Don’t have a condom.” It comes out more question than concern.
“Do we need one?”
His lips part, then close again. “I’ve been tested. I haven’t been with anyone but you since—”
“Me, too.” I run my hands along his sides, his stomach tightening under my touch.
“Fuck.” He starts to push in, but pauses. “This okay?”
I nod quickly. “I got the birth control shot.”
He holds my gaze. “Didn’t even think about that.”
His breath catches as he pushes in, both of us stilling at the feel of nothing between us. I tug him into a kiss. We move together, slow at first, the lounger creaking beneath us, the cool night air on my skin everywhere he isn’t touching.
He drags his mouth down my jaw and throat, and I arch into him, fingers threading through his hair, holding on. We’re unhurried in a way we haven’t always been. Like, this is the first night of something, rather than the last.
“I love you,” he mumbles against my skin.
My nails dig into his shoulders. “I love you.”
“Fuck, baby. I love hearing you say it. Tell me again.”
“I love you, Miles.”
His mouth crashes onto mine, his tongue sweeping deep as he thrusts into me. He pulls back with a sharp inhale, breath hissing out. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last.”
His movements turn jerky, his rhythm faltering as he chases his release. I rock into him, and he buries his face in my neck, breath hot against my skin, chest brushing against mine.
His whole body goes taut, then slack as he comes with a muttered curse. The pulse of him inside me and the grind of his hips tip me over the edge. I flutter around him, stars bursting behind my eyelids that have nothing to do with the night sky.
I’m still trembling, trying to catch my breath, when he pulls out of me and shifts down.
He spreads my thighs wide, watching his release slip from me.
My face flushes. Then his fingers slide through it, gathering, before he pushes it back in with an unhurried stroke. “I like you filled with me, honey.”
I clench around his fingers, and his lips tip up on one side, satisfaction flashing in his eyes. “You like it, too.” It’s not a question, but I nod anyway, breath catching when his fingers curl inside me.
His thumb finds my clit and presses in tight strokes that make me squirm. “Do you need to come again, baby?”
“Yes,” is out of my mouth before he finishes.
My head falls back, my gaze tipping to the sky as he thrusts two fingers into me. Wet, filthy sounds mix with the song of crickets.
“Miles—” I start, but whatever I was going to say disappears when the soft heat of his mouth finds me. I jerk up, onto my elbows, and look down just in time to see him drag his tongue slowly from my entrance to my clit. “Holy—”
His gaze catches mine, pupils blown wide before his eyes drift shut, a low hum vibrating against me. His tongue slides inside, tasting me, tasting us. I gasp, my hand flying to his hair, my fingers tangling in the strands.
He doesn’t stop. Just licks me clean until I’m shaking. Until I come again on his tongue with a broken cry.
When he finally pulls back, he presses a kiss to my inner thigh. Then another to my hip.
I catch his wrist. “C’mere.”
His gaze lifts to mine, and I tug him to me. He groans against my mouth, one hand braced beside my head as I lick inside. Heat rushes through me all over again, followed by a shiver when the breeze skims over my skin.
I ease back, but he follows for another kiss, not done with me yet.
My lips are swollen by the time he settles beside me and pulls the blanket over both of us. My body is boneless, my skin oversensitive, but everything eases when he tucks me into his side, his arm wrapping around me.
“Why was that so hot?” I smile, looking up at the sky. “You’ve got tricks for me yet, Miles King.”
His laugh is quiet and rough, more felt than heard. “That I do.”
Silence settles around us, nothing but insects chirping and the sound of our steady breaths. His fingers trace lazily over my bare shoulder beneath the blanket, and I can’t wipe the smile from my face as the stars blink overhead.
I swallow.
I don’t want it to end.
This night. This love.
This life.
A star shoots across the sky, and we both follow its path until it disappears.
“It’s cold,” he murmurs after a while, rubbing my arm. “We should go inside.”
I nuzzle closer into his warmth. “Just a little longer.”
He breathes out softly, and I can hear the smile in it.
“What do you see when you look at them?” I whisper.
He’s quiet for a long moment. Then his gaze shifts from the sky to my face.
“Possibilities.”