Page 91 of #Moonstruck

He pulled me close against him, his entire body a strong, hot line of fire that should have burned me but instead only made me feel deliciously hazy and pliant.

His warm, strong fingers pressed into my bare back, and I sighed with pleasure, which he matched with a rough sigh of his own. I shook from the intensity of his kiss, from the blaze he seemed to so easily control inside me.

At some point my nerve endings rearranged themselves to be connected to my lips so that every movement, every change in pressure, caused them to spark into ever-increasing flames. And each flame stole a breath, and another, and another. I’d never felt more safe or more sure than I did completely breathless in his arms, against his lips.

I pushed against him slightly, not wanting this moment to ever end, but finally remembered myself. “Ryan? As you once said, we have company.”

His breathing was labored, his eyes unfocused. It took him a second to regain control of himself. I brushed away a lock of his hair that had fallen over his forehead, and he grabbed my wrist and pressed a hot kiss against it, causing my tremors to start up all over again.

Which made me almost forget about that whole-being-surrounded-by-thousands-of-people thing.

“That wasn’t a glacier, Maisy Harrison. That was a bonfire. In front of everyone.”

There was a certain symmetry to it, I supposed. I’d kissed him for the first time in front of the whole world. It somehow seemed appropriate that I would tell him I loved him for the first time in the same way.

“Sorry, what was the question?” Ryan asked the reporter, eliciting laughter from everybody nearby. He thanked them, and we went into the theater. Once we were briefly out of sight of the cameras, Ryan spun me up against a wall and pinned me in place.

“You love me.”

“I do.”

“I want to hear you say the words.”

“I love you, Ryan De Luna.”

Then he proceeded to show me, without words, just how much he loved me in return.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

During Skyler’s performance at the awards ceremony, I told him about her threats. He laughed for about five minutes, which I think the cameras caught and would probably spin another way. Like we were making fun of Skyler or something. When he finally calmed down, he told me I had nothing to worry about.

“There is zero chance of Skyler Smith and me ever getting together. We were never even together in the first place. We went out on one ‘date’ because we were with the same label and our agents arranged it. Not to mention I’m not exactly her type.”

Not her type? Was she blind as well as stupid? “What do you mean?”

“Those friends? Her ‘crew’? Not just friends. More than friends. If Skyler said she wanted me, it’s only to be her beard.”

Oh. “Did she tell you that?”

“No.”

Then he was just assuming. He didn’t actually know. “If it’s true, why would she hide it?”

“A lot of famous people do. They don’t want to get pigeonholed. Like I told you, perception is everything. But know that I’m enjoying your jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous.” I was jealous. A Jealous McJealouson. “I just don’t want your ex-girlfriend to ruin my life.”

“You don’t have to worry about her. What do you think about sneaking out of here early? My performance is done. I have my pseudo award. Want to go?”

I looked up, as if actually considering my answer. I desperately wanted to leave, to be alone with him and not surrounded by cameras or fans.

“Come on, Maisy. Say yes, please.”

In a low voice I told him, “Yes, please.”

He let out a groan. “Unfair. You can say things like that when I have to behave.” Then he kissed me hard but all too briefly. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Won’t it be a fun way to go?”