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"Wasn't what?"

"Supposed to happen," she whispers.

I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, smiling. "Yeah, it was. It was supposed to happen a long damn time ago, Starlight."

Her mouth opens and then closes before she squeezes her eyes closed, looking stressed. "I cannot deal with this right now. You're just…and I'm like…and it's not even…" She groans, faceplanting into my shoulder. "I had too much wine for this, Huxley."

"Then it's a good thing we've got time to get you sober before you're in my bed, isn't it?"

Her head flies up, her eyes locking with mine. "I am not sleeping with you."

"You are," I say, grinning at her. "But don't worry. I can wait."

She mumbles something that sounds like she's cursing the universe before she tumbles off my lap. Before I can say anything, she's launching herself out of the truck like she's afraid I intend to strip her right here and now.

And I'll be honest, the thought did cross my mind. But I don't want her for the night, and certainly not when she's been drinking. I want her when she's stone-cold sober and knows this shit between us is forever.

I can wait for that.

Hell, I've waited this long.

Chapter Three

Nova

"Huxley!" I growl, stomping out of my brother's guest room far too early in the morning to face the infuriating man who haunted my dreams all night. Literally, all night. As soon as one ended, another began. I don't even want to think about how many times they ended right before he made me come all over him. I might actually lose my mind if I think about that right now.

He's leaning over the marble island in the kitchen, watching something on one of the sports channels.

He looks edible in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, his hair a little wild. A starburst tattoo runs down his side in an intricate pattern. Smaller stars are scattered across his shoulder blade.

I don't mean to do it, but I ogle him anyway, my gaze riveted to the muscles in his back. I swear, there is no one else built quite like him. Artists would kill to get him naked just to immortalize him in charcoal and paint.

My stomach flips when he turns his head, his blue eyes locking on my face. "Morning, Starlight," he rumbles, heat and humor mingling in the depths of his eyes. "Did you sleep well?"

"Where are my underwear?" I ask instead of answering.

"Underwear?" he asks like he's never heard the word before.

See? Infuriating.

"Yes, underwear," I growl. "Panties. You know, the things that cover my ass so the whole world doesn't see it every time I bend over in a skirt?" I wave said skirt in the air like a flag. "I need underwear, Huxley."

"Ah." He scoops up a coffee mug, but not nearly fast enough to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. "Damn. I guess I forgot them."

"You forgot to pack my underwear," I say, my tone flat.

"Guess so."

He is so full of shit, he's floating in it.

"You remembered to grab nine different bras, eleven pairs of socks, and literally everything in the bathroom, including two boxes of tampons and all of Larissa's makeup, but you forgot my underwear."

"Looks that way," he murmurs, taking a sip of coffee.

"You are such a liar!" I launch my skirt at his head. It does absolutely no damage, but it makes me feel a tiny bit better. "I can't go to work without underwear, Huxley!"

"Call in." He hangs my skirt around his neck like it's a towel, running his fingers along the hem.