Page 2 of Resurgent
Because last night, you hadn’t been walking on the beach with Liam, a voice inside my head says.
“There are so many,” I say. “More than back home in Charleston.”
“Nope. You can just see them better here. That’s one of the things I love about stars. They’re always there, millions of them, but you can’t see them until all the lights are gone and the sky is its blackest. Kind of like life,” he adds wryly.
I look up at him curiously. Liam is about the last person on the planet I would have expected to have a philosophical view about stars. Easygoing, charismatic, supremely confident, and more daring than anyone I know, Liam has life by the horns. “What do you mean?” I say.
He shrugs, giving me that sexy half smile of his. “Forget it. Tequila philosophy.”
I laugh. “That’s the best kind.” Looking back up at the stars, I say, “I usually hate chaos, but I have to say, stars are the exception.”
“That’s because they’re not chaotic at all.”
I stop. “Yes, they are.” I point to the mass of twinkling lights. “You can’t tell me there’s any sort of order there.”
“Of course there is. There’s a pattern in them if you know where to look. I’ve used the stars to navigate more than once on a dark night in the Middle East. Computers and technology are great, but when you’re in the middle of nowhere without Wi-Fi, you can still find anything with a sextant and a little knowledge of the stars. That’s what the constellations are—the stars organized into pictures that serve as guideposts.”
He steps behind me, his arms on either side of me as he points up to the sky. I am hyperaware of him and the warmth of his skin, although it’s barely touching mine. The stars have never looked more beautiful to me, or shone so bright.
“Look at that one. I think it looks like a Phoenix—the bird that died in flames and then rose from the ashes in Greek mythology.” He shifts, turning me with him. “There’s Draco; it resembles a dragon. And there’s the North Star—Polaris. From there you can find the Big Dipper. Do you see it?” I nod, mesmerized by his closeness as he traces the outline in the sky with his forefinger. “From there you can find everything else. There’s the Southern Cross. You know the song?” He hums a few bars of the Crosby, Stills & Nash classic.
“Of course,” I scoff, turning to look up at him. “What kind of southern girl do you think I am?”
A smile flashes across his face, and I feel a little thrill of pleasure at knowing I’m responsible it. “You can’t see it from most points of the United States, but you can see it from here. In fact, it was something I crossed off my bucket list this weekend.”
“You have a bucket list?”
“Don’t you?” he teases.
“I don’t need a bucket list. I have a life list,” I retort.
“Touché,” he says with a low chuckle. “Same difference.” His voice lowers an octave as he says, “I think you need a little chaos in your life, Charlotte.”
“No, I don’t!” I say, but it doesn’t sound very convincing.
His breath is warm near my ear, and it sends goose bumps of pleasure prickling across my skin.
“You smell good.” His voice is a raspy rumble.
The night has cast some sort of spell on me, and I lift my face to him as his lips find mine. They’re soft and oh-so-intoxicating. I didn’t know kissing could feel like this. Suddenly scared, I try to pull away, but he grabs my arms, both steadying me and holding me captive as his lips descend on mine again. My mouth seems to open of its own volition and his tongue sweeps in, lushly caressing mine until I’m breathless. He pulls away slightly, and I run my tongue experimentally over my lips. They feel swollen.
He growls. “Damn, Charlotte. Do that again and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
My breath hitches. Like some coy, flirtatious alter-ego has taken over my body, I deliberately lick my lips, slowly and provocatively. I want more than anything to find out exactly what he means. To be the girl who makes him lose control.
In an instant, he has me pressed against a nearby palm tree, the bark rough against my back as his mouth descends on mine again with a voraciousness that has my pulse racing. My fingers somehow tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. His mouth is hard and hungry, devouring me with little nips of his teeth and plunging his tongue into my willing and open mouth with a fierceness that turns my legs to jelly. Liam kisses with just the right amount of assertiveness mixed with control, and I fall into the kiss like a woman drowning. Both of us are hungry. Insatiable. Like we’ve waited forever for this moment, which is crazy. But whatever. The way he kisses me—like he’s staking some sort of claim—leaves no room for rational thought. His mouth demands my acquiescence and I give it willingly, desperate for his lips, his mouth, his tongue, and the intoxicating taste of him.
He grabs my wrists and pins them against the tree trunk over my head. Holding my hands against the tree with one hand, he reaches behind me with the other to tug at the string of my bikini top, and I close my eyes as I feel it fall to the sand. For once, I don’t want to think, don’t want to analyze or worry about what I should or shouldn’t do. I just want to savor Liam’s hands and mouth on my skin.
The cool breeze of the ocean whispers over my nipples, and I can feel them draw into hard points. His free hand skims down my side and over the outer curve of my breast before trailing seductively across the plane of my stomach, making me quiver. His fingertips don’t miss an inch as he explores my body, leaving hot lines of pleasure everywhere he touches.
He lazily circles one breast and then the other, teasing me until I’m squirming against the palm tree. He closes in on the aching peak with agonizing slowness,tracing lines over the sensitive skin of my breasts, until—thank you Jesus!—he finally reaches my nipple. His fingernail scrapes across it lightly.
“Oh.” I inhale sharply. His lips curve up as he grasps it between his thumb and forefinger and twists slightly before pulling on it. He moves to the other breast, giving that nipple a little pinch and tug, too, creating a visceral response deep inside me.I’m still wearing my swimsuit bottom, but I might as well be naked judging by the heat pulsing between my legs.
He lowers his head to kiss me again, but this time his teeth capture my lower lip, biting down and sucking on it lightly. Heat pools in my belly as he releases it to feather little kisses up my jawbone.
“I’ve wanted to taste you all weekend.” His breath is warm and seductive near my ear.
