34
“Sources Say That Kieran Alexander Is in Love with Luna Aldridge ‘to the Moon and Back’”
—M Magazine
STARS SHINED BEHIND my closed eyes as she feverishly pressed her lips against mine. Each muscle, tendon, bone fell to her will as if it were accepting this as fact. As if we were two pieces meant to be paired. A worshipper and a prayer. The sun and its flowers. Neptune and its moons. My moon. Luna.
I pulled away abruptly, trying to stand up straight.
“You’re drunk.” I squeezed my eyes shut.
Her dark eyes shifted from a look of surprise to understanding.
She opened her mouth, and I almost fell to my knees when she responded in Spanish. If I was drunk, then how can I remember that there is a permanent scuff on the back of those shoes I caused two years ago?
My jaw went slack. She was definitely not drunk.
“Did I say that correctly? I don’t get much time off in Madrid to practice my Spanish. And seeing as I’m only there once a—”
I reached for the back of her neck, taking her lips in mine. They were warm and soft and kneading at mine in a game of catch and release.
She tasted like cherries. I’d never had a liking for cherries. But when they tasted like this, against her lips, I could have had them every day.
“Kieran,” she whispered against my lips. I hummed against her mouth. I wanted her to say it again. “Kieran.” Mierda, was she reading my mind?
“I… don’t… want… this… to… be… fake,” she muttered in between kisses, catching breaths of air.
My heart pounded against my sternum in relief. Pure, heavy relief.
“Nothing,” I whispered, capturing her bottom lip. “About this.” I cupped the side of her face. “Has ever been fake to me.” And I kissed her as if she were being ripped away.
The groan of her response resonated against my mouth. I couldn’t help but shudder. Each kiss was faster, needier, harsher than the one before. I pressed my thumbs into the muscles in her waist, needing her closer. I needed every surface of her skin against me.
She pushed her hands under my jacket and ran them over my chest. I couldn’t imagine how fast my heart was beating under her fingers. It felt as if it were being catapulted from my body. My pulse was racing like an ocean wave in a storm.
She grabbed the collar of my jacket and began to pull it off.
“Luna, if we don’t leave now, I’m going to have to stand in the cold water of that ridiculous fountain to get ahold of myself,” I whispered, my voice coming out hoarse.
“Hotel, now.” She looked up at me from under dark lashes.
“Yes, ma’am,” I breathed, pressing one more chaste kiss against her lips before racing with her to the main street to grab a cab back to the hotel.
Her hand ran up my leg in the taxi. That stupid, incredibly cute laugh fell from her lips as I stalled it, my teeth biting down on the inside of my cheek.
The trip past the concierge desk, to the elevator, and up to her room was clouded. The only thing I could focus on was her. When the elevator chimed open, we were pulling apart to get to her room, only to collide again once I closed the door behind us.
I captured her lips in relief, pressing her against the door.
“My shoes,” she muttered.
“How much do you like them?”
“Not enough.”
My hand fell to her thigh, urging her leg up.
She obliged, her right knee now straddling my hip.
I ran my hand down her leg until it hit the strap of her heel, where I messed with the string until it fell to the floor with a thump.
Her breath turned ragged as she returned her bare foot to the floor.
I made quick work of her other shoe, trying not to let my hand idle anywhere too long.
Now she stood several inches shorter, undoing the buttons on my shirt. The needy movements of her lips slowed as she struggled. I took over, undoing the buttons quickly, and throwing the shirt somewhere behind me.
A groan left my throat as she lightly traced the shape of my shoulders and chest. But just as quickly, I was swallowing the same noises as I found the zipper of her dress.
Every muscle in my body was tense with control as the skin of her back became exposed, as I tried not to come off as a frantic animal that needed to bite her.
“Luna,” I muttered, but it sounded unkempt. I was an absolute mess. She made a mess of me.
She took that as an invitation to do as she pleased, pulling me toward the bed. She leaned over me, brunette strands swaying back and forth. A little detail I’d never take for granted.
My favorite details were always the heavy looks she granted me when we were alone, and the small jolts in her step when I ran my fingers down her arm to grasp her hand.
But a close third was the curve of her lower back that peeked out of the dresses she enjoyed wearing.
Or the dip from her hip to her waist that made the perfect place for my hand to rest.
“I’ve thought about this more than I’d like to admit,” I said, my eyes roaming over her.
Delight seemed to spread across her face. She was so beautiful. I wanted to tell her over and over again.
And I did. I whispered it as I traced her collarbone. I murmured it against her skin as I pressed my lips against the rise and fall of her chest. And I said it like it was a prayer until we were both fast asleep.
“You’ve bought all of these this month?” I asked, admiring the small ceramic fish on her windowsill, one of several trinkets, holding it up in the morning light.
“Why do you make it sound as if I have a shopping problem?” she argued. I could hear the smile in her voice without turning. I couldn’t help but turn anyway, though.
She propped her head up on her hand, her elbow resting on the pillow in our—her bed. Large, tousled waves of hair fell along either side of her face. Her lips were naturally tinted like cherry red wine. The same way they had tasted.
This was why I had to separate myself. I felt starved when not touching her. I needed to get a grip. Which was why I sat on the carpet, in between the bed and the window.
“I’m not.” I laughed. “I just had to make sure you weren’t receiving all these gifts from other men.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Ah, worried about other men, I see.”
I let my gaze weigh on her. “Not at the moment, no.”
“You’re very charming. You must get that often.” She raised her eyebrows teasingly, perching her chin on the palm of her hand. The charms on her bracelet danced together as they slid down her arm.
“You really do take me for a playboy, don’t you?” I said, putting the small ceramic down.
She raised her hands. “That’s not what I said!”
“That’s what you were trying to say!”
“Okay, well, maybe it is!” She shrugged her shoulders, her face dropping to a but am I wrong look.
“You’re terrible, you know that? You invite me into your room, take advantage of my body, and then call me a playboy! Who treats their guests like this?”
Her elbow gave out, and her head hit the pillow as she erupted with laughter. The duvet over her chest rumbled. It was impossible not to laugh with her.
“I”—inhale—“couldn’t”—inhale—“not”—inhale—“let you in.” She calmed her laughter and turned toward me, still lying on the bed. “You were going to haunt me for ruining your shoes if I didn’t.” Her straitlaced, serious face slowly transformed into a cheeky smile.
“That’s it, I’m going back to my room.” I stood and—
She grabbed my hand before I could even walk by the bed, pulling me toward the mess of sheets. I accepted her attempt and fell beside her. Her hair brushed my cheek as I pressed a kiss against her throat.
“I’ll stay on one condition,” I whispered into her neck.
“What?” she hummed.
“Tell me I’m the hottest man you’ve ever seen.”
She vibrated under me with laughter. “You’re ridiculous.”
I pushed myself up from the mattress and straddled her, placing a hand on either side of her head. Her eyes darkened. I leaned down and kissed her ear. “Ridiculously hot? I know you want to say it.”
“You’d be on the balcony in your underwear if I didn’t love you so much.”
There was a thud in my chest. Had she just—I immediately reared back.
The curve of her brow looked tense, fearful. “I didn’t—”
My phone vibrated on the nightstand. I groaned in frustration. If this was a work thing, I was going to be pissed.
I twisted to catch the name: Padre.
When I returned my focus, I found Luna looking at the phone too. “It could be important,” she said.
Only one thing was important, and it was her. Her and those words. But that didn’t look like a conversation she wanted to have right now.
I closed my mouth and reached over to grab my phone. “Hola, Padre.”
My father’s voice sounded tired and tense. “Alexander, Abuela is in the hospital.”
The cloud of joy I was riding on was pulled out from under me. Bile sat in my throat. The last time she had been rushed to the hospital, they were putting her under for an emergency surgery that was going to happen whether or not I could get there in time.
“I’m leaving right now.”