Stars (Penmore #1) (26 page)

Except I feel the need to let her know, “I did. For about fifteen minutes. Then she went off with Vaughn Rogers to the bathroom more times than I could count, until she finally left the place to go to the local motel.”

“She did
what
? Even though she was
your
date? I always knew she wasn’t the smartest girl in the senior class, but that’s just ridiculous,” she says, lifting her eyes to mine to show me her shock and appall at Missy’s etiquette.

“Babe, not everyone wants me like you do. Hell, no one even looks at me like you do,” I tell her, grinning.

“And how’s that?”

“Exactly like I look at you. With stars in my eyes,” I murmur, before claiming her mouth.

*****

I knew we would still need to talk. Work through some of her insecurities about not being good enough for me. I watched how she walked into my house now, always behind me cowering. I noticed that she seemed to be unsure, clearly feeling like she didn’t belong. But that’s something we would be fixing. Later. After I touched her. Inhaled her. Had my sheets covered in her scent once again.

The apartment was empty when we returned, a clear sign that maybe Andy had finally managed to win his winking bet. Maybe this was everyone’s lucky night. Hell, I was definitely counting my lucky stars as I nibbled the freckles that scattered across Parker’s shoulder as we made our way up the stairs.

Christ, it felt as if I hadn’t touched her skin in years. Her fingers trailed along the back of my neck, their smooth texture and light touch driving me crazy.

When we finally reach my room, I carefully swing the door open with one arm and gesture for her step through first.

Partly, because Ma always taught me to be a gentleman, but I also wanted to see that she’s comfortable with the steps she’s taking. She’s leading the way here.

Once I follow her inside, I shut the door. I watch as her eyes travel to the lock, which I rarely touch. I can’t help but smirk, catch her eyes then flick the lock shut. She giggles just a little, and I feel as if the days I spent without her in this room fade away.

I was going to make it firm though.

I walk toward my bed and fling my sheets to the floor. Quickly adjusting them so they’re spread out on the carpet.

“Grayso—Gray, what are you doing?” Stars asks, still giggling, but now with a look of bewilderment.

“First time we sleep together, after everything we’ve shared, I don’t want it to be on the bed,” I tell her. “Don’t want it to feel like a dream. Want it to be on the floor.”

She’s still looking at me, her honey eyes wide with confusion, so I decide to clarify.

“I want it to be hard. I
don’t
want us coming together to feel like floating on clouds. I want us to feel real in every possible way. Rock solid. I want you to feel the ground. Feel it shake and move as I slide into you. I want you to know that I see you and you see me. We aren’t smoke and vapors but instead two people choosing to start our forever from the ground up.”

Her breath catches, and I can see that my words have caused an avalanche of need and desire.

“Then what’s with the sheets?” she asks coyly, slowly stepping toward me until we both stand in the middle of the blankets I’ve placed on the floor, her arms sliding around my waist.

“I want you to feel the earth move. I don’t want you to regret it tomorrow morning because you’re covered in carpet burns,” I say, winking at her.

“So considerate,” she murmurs, her breath slightly panting in anticipation. As she goes on her toes to kiss me, I pull her closely to me so she can feel
my
need, my pent-up desire that is clawing to get inside of her.

I deepen our kiss as we lower ourselves to the ground.

She falls gently underneath me.

I move until my body straddles her left leg and my knee pushes against her then bend down to capture her mouth. At first, my teeth tug softly on her lips, opening them wide before my tongue pushes inside. However, we swiftly start fighting a battle with our mouths against the time we lost. Waging war with missed opportunities and the possible
what ifs
that plague our past.

She starts riding my knee as I tightly grip her hair, roughly trailing kisses down her neck, desperately licking the tastes I’ve missed with my tongue.

I feel her body begin to tremble and I move my hand from the back of her head to slide into the front of her jeans, beneath her panties, and find her swollen clit. Then I draw circles over and over, driving her crazy until she freezes and I feel her muscles beneath my fingers spasm. I run feather-light kisses down the side of her neck while she catches her breath.

I carefully help remove her sweater and undo the buttons of her blouse, exposing her chest to my starving mouth. I playfully drag my teeth along the top of her breasts until I reach her peaks hidden behind the thin fabric of her bra.

I pause from my rush to taste her when I feel her fingers gently sweep away the hair falling in front of my eyes, her warm gaze locked on me.

I look up and into her honey eyes, her eyelids heavy and she whispers, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” I tell her, loud and clear, before demanding, “Now, don’t fall asleep on me, Stars. Sorry to break it to you, but we’re just getting started. I’ve had a lot of alone time recently to come up with different things I would like to do to this body.”

“Is that so? What did you have in mind?” she asks me, grinning with excitement shining in her eyes.

“I’d rather show you,” I tell her before kissing her fiercely and starting with the first on my list.

Make the ground move.

GRAYSON

My phone keeps buzzing. I reach for it on the dresser above my head and hear my back crack.

Damn, that hurts.

Shit, fucking on the floor. Great idea at the time. Brilliant. Spectacular. Except I forgot how it feels to wake up after sleeping all night on a hard surface. Even if you
are
wrapped up in a beautiful girl, it’s completely shit. My back feels like a 10-ton gorilla just sacked me.

Thankfully, my phone is still ringing when I finally bring it to my ear.

“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my voice down so I don’t disturb Parker, still soundlessly sleeping at my side.

“Has Nate spoken to you recently?” Marissa asks bluntly, her panic travelling through the speaker loud and clear.

“No, why?” I ask, sitting up in bed, slightly jostling Parker, causing her to blink open her honey eyes and stare up at me in concern.

“Bo just turned up to start his shift. Usually, Nate opens everything and starts setting up for me and then Bo arrives and mans the door. Bo just called. The door’s open, but Nate is nowhere to be seen. I’m worried, Gray,” Marissa states, loud enough for Parker to hear and jump up in order to start looking for her clothes.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I say, hoping to calm down not only Marissa, but also Parker’s clear distress.

“He’s never done this. Never. He is the most loyal worker I have.”

“Maris, I’ll head over now. Parker’s with me, and I’m sure she’s going to want to help. We’ll find him.”

*****

The bar was empty when we turned up. Everything appeared to be in order. All the tables and booths looked like they always did before the crowds arrived, pristine and shining in the dark shadows.

Frowning, Parker walks behind the bar and picks up the set of keys resting beside the cash register, attached to a small leather keychain.

“These are Nate’s work keys,” she tells me softly, a hint of fear seeping through her shaking breath. “He never leaves them lying around. Anyone could access the liquor cabinets with these keys.”

“Do you know where he lives?” I ask her firmly. If she’s scared, I can’t let my fear sink in.

Suddenly, Ma’s story over Thanksgiving is seeping into my memory, plus Mr. Simons’s warnings about sending a serious message if Dad fucked up again, but I lock it down.

I need to be solid, in control. If not for myself, then for Parker. And for Nate. I won’t help anyone if I start to break shit and let out the anger that is consuming me.

I just got my brother back.

Nothing was going to change that.

I had to focus on that thought. Pray on that thought.

PARKER

Outside Nate’s apartment, everything was pristine. His shiny black truck was in the driveway, sparkling in the sun. His lawn was in impeccable condition, not a weed in sight. No one would expect horrors to be waiting inside the small one-bedroom he rented, with its cute blue trimmings in one of the nicest up-and-coming neighborhoods near the university.

No one. This was a neighborhood where people lent cups of sugar and had street parties celebrating Christmas. Seeing how manicured everyone’s lawns were actually made all the panic I had building inside of me dissipate; even when we found the front door open, I was extremely calm. Nothing bad could have happened
here
.

For an instant, I thought we must have been interrupting an acting shoot.

Furniture was tossed about the apartment as if the Hulk had run through recently. Every drawer was open, and the once-organized contents now spilled across the hallway. I stepped over pencils, scissors, books, receipts and loose bits of paper as we slowly worked our way to the back of the apartment, which I knew was the kitchen, calling out for Nate as we went through each room.

That’s where we find him.

His body is slumped in the corner, partially propped against the wall, covered in bruises that make his handsome features almost unrecognizable. He is sitting in a large pool of blood that appears to have poured from the small holes in his chest and legs. The black and white tiles are barely visible from the chaos of a broken table and chair legs. And all of the blood.

It doesn’t seem real. It’s like a movie.

A really bad crime film that you tell yourself is incredibly unrealistic.

People don’t walk into apartments and see things like this. Not in real life.

I was just waiting for him to bring his head up, laugh at our frozen stances and someone to call out “cut.”

Nate was always acting and playing pretend.

This is just a joke. It had to be a joke. Had I called him recently he would have told me about some new movie project he was doing, maybe a gangster or true crime film. This is just a film. It had to be a film.

Why wasn’t anyone calling out “cut”?

“Nate,” Gray whispers, his voice choppy with emotion, as soon as his eyes land upon the lifeless body.

Gray never called Nathan ‘Nate.’ He also never whispered. Gray always spoke normally, loud or really loud. He didn’t do whispers. Not even when we were making pillow talk.

I realize Gray whispering wasn’t okay.

None of this was okay.

I start to move backward out of the kitchen. I need to escape. Maybe if I got off the set then everyone would come out of hiding. They would fix this. Someone, anyone, would call out and laugh at our expressions. It wouldn’t slowly start to feel real. I wouldn’t see Gray move toward his brother, his eyes filling with unshed tears, to feel his brother’s non-existent pulse. This wouldn’t be real.

I just… I just needed some air.

I couldn’t. I wouldn’t accept that this was happening.

A few hours ago, everything was perfect.

Gray and I had worked out our problems. It was hard and a struggle, but we were honest.

Things are meant to get better after you’re honest. Nate would call me soon. Laugh at me for being afraid, for thinking Gray wouldn’t forgive me, and he’d call me his future-sister-in-law.

He had to call. This, all of this, couldn’t be real.

My chest starts hurting. I feel like I’m suffocating. All of this is like layers of bricks being put on top of me. The weight of what had happened was becoming too intense. Too real. I don’t even feel the tears as they start to roll down my cheeks. I don’t know if I can handle this, this heaviness, the agony and weight of losing a best friend.

I got to say good-bye to Mom. I’ll never get to say good-bye to Nate. I hadn’t spoken to him in nearly a week.

I should have spoken with one of my best friends through the week.

Oh, God, best friends.

I have to tell Millie. What do I tell her? How do I even start? She’d been texting me. Asking me if I had seen him. Told him. And I hadn’t. I was scared and ashamed. How do I tell her that the father of her unborn baby is sitting in a pool of his own blood? He’ll never know. He’ll never see his baby.

My steps start carrying me backward out the door and into the driveway. I don’t even feel the impact when my back hits Marissa.

We both fall backward onto the lawn.

“You don’t. It’s not. Don’t go in there!” I screech at her, my throat choking on the pain lodged within my esophagus when I see her eyes bore into mine in surprise then understanding.

Before I realize it, Andy is there, pulling us both to our feet.

“Gray inside?” he asks somberly.

I can’t do anything but nod. My mouth refuses to work anymore. It’s too coarse. I think I might have screamed. I just don’t know anymore.