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Dark hunger flares behind her eyes, tempting my demon within.
“Ignorance makes for such poetry, such beauty,” I say, tipping her face higher with my thumb. “The passionate exhalations of the earth. The result of which we experience as a beautiful light show in the sky. There’s nothing that poetic or lovely in our conquered logic, sweet Halen.”
The fiery embers in the depths of her eyes are as hot as the raging stars. “Consider me an enchanted puddle, professor.”
A sudden crack of applause announces the event. Halen tilts her head back as the first visible shower of meteors streak the night, her features awestruck. “I have to admit, it is beautiful.” As the sky flickers with flashes of light, her eyes glimmer. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything this lovely.”
“Neither have I,” I confess, but I’m not looking at anything but her.
I’m held captive amid a sea of falling stars by her beauty alone. The power of it could rival the universe.
Her gaze connects with mine, and no more words are necessary. She removes her arms from around my neck and takes my hand in hers, threading our fingers together.
“Since I’m already going to hell, I might as well have my way with the devil,” she says, leading me away from the party.
My whole body fucking ignites.
I’d follow my dark muse anywhere, right down into hell itself.
But since the Lipton’s have a terrace with the perfect view, I tug Halen in that direction.
As we reach the path, she pulls me to a halt. “Kallum, wait,” she says as her gaze trails up to the house tower, and her hand slips from mine. “I don’t like heights.”
“I promise, I won’t let you fall.”
She expends an uneven breath. “It’s not the falling part that scares me.”
The raging need to uncover what does scare her burns through me.
“Trust me.” I extend my hand.
A tense moment of hesitation gathers between us, and like she did all those months ago, she takes my hand, allowing me to breathe.
Guided by wrought-iron rails, we ascend the narrow stairwell and step onto the stone landing, where the pitched roof overhangs three feet of the quaint balcony. A stained-glass window wraps the tower above, and a French door leads into the dark recess of the house.
The height affords an expansive view of the marshland, where the night sky seems endless as it sits atop the dark woods in the distance.
A pure and beautiful experience before we become as hot and violent as the stars themselves.
Halen keeps her distance from the railing. “This is a bad idea.”
I grab the strap of her tote, using it to tow her closer before I remove the bag, letting it drop to the terrace. My hand captures her neck, palm welded to the sexy slope as I tip her chin up. “I agree. It was a very bad idea to wear that fucking skirt, sweetness.”
She arches a delicate eyebrow. “Are you going to shred this one?” But all flirtatious banter is replaced with raw, carnal want. “Shit. Kallum, don’t shred this one?—”
Then my mouth is on hers, swallowing the tiny moan that escapes her parted lips, determined to rectify the hours I’ve spent away from her. Hell, the fucking months of torture spent without her. Gripping the thin material in my fist, I drag the skirt up her legs and push my hand between her thighs, earning another sweet moan.
I swirl my fingers over the soaked material, a guttural curse wrenched free as I confirm how aroused her fear makes her. I have her in my arms and pressed to the stone wall, my need to taste her unleashed. Her moans turn breathy under my fierce demand as I trap her wrists against the stone, my body pinned to hers as I greedily devour her sounds.
She turns her head to drag in a breath. “Kallum?—”
“I should have never stopped kissing you,” I say, the confession dredged from the vile depths of me. “I should have taken you to bed and made love to you until you could no longer comprehend the meaning of shame.” I draw in air past my constricted lungs. “I should have never left you that night.”
Eyes wide and cast upward, her gaze solders to mine. Freeing a wrist, she places her hand on my chest. With her index finger, she gingerly traces the crescent she carved into my flesh to inflame it further. “I don’t know why I ran away,” she admits.
Moving her hand to my face, she kisses me slowly, tenderly, answering my suspicion. While Halen has recovered most of her memory, there’s still a vital piece missing.
A selfish part of me wants to accept the gift of her selective memory, but that’s not how this works. As time passes, she’s going to suffer her guilt more acutely.
