His Shooting Star: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  I park nearest where I usually would and send a quick text message before talking her hand in mine, asking how much she thinks she’ll be able to walk.

  “I never even thought of that, I was okay getting from the restaurant to the car,” she tells me, taking a few uneasy steps on the uneven ground before wincing.

  I lift her up, carrying her just like I did yesterday.

  Only one day.

  I start to calculate other planetary days again but stop myself.

  That kind of thing can get real old real quick if people aren’t interested in the planets.

  It isn’t ten steps before I remember too, the effect Gillian has on me up close.

  Carrying her in the woods is the same in my mind as carrying her off to our bed, and it isn’t long before she’s aware of it too.

  “You sure you brought me out here to look for Orion?” she asks, making us both laugh. “It’s a little too cold for anything else,” she adds.

  “Well, he’s right up there,” I comment, feeling her body shift and twist in my arms as she looks around, calling for him.

  “I mean that Orion,” I explain, jutting skyward with my chin, noting how clear and bright the night sky is.

  “I don’t follow,” she says, then gasping. “Oh no! He wasn’t—”

  “No,” I quickly explain. “He’s not in doggy heaven, but that’s his constellation. I think some of you call it the big dipper.

  “And what do you call it?” she asks, making that face I know has all her questions behind it.

  I sigh quietly.

  “Look. Gillian,” I say, realizing I hadn’t planned a moment or even what to say, but I have to tell her something.

  “In a couple of days, I’ll be finished up. At the college, and everywhere else. The only stargazing I’ll be doing is through a telescope. I promise,” I add for effect, still unable to tell her that before that happens, I do have to go away for a while.

  A day or two should do it. But I recall my promise to never leave her alone again.

  And with some random stalker from my past wandering about…

  “I don’t have to know everything,” Gillian says, explaining how she understands there’s a lot her dad can’t tell her about his work.

  “But it isn’t just my work,” I hear myself explaining, feeling a high-pitched ringing in my ears. A painful sound.

  I tense up so I can keep a hold of her.

  “Xander? I really don’t need to know. All I need to know is we love each other. Xander?”

  Her voice sounds far away, almost like she’s underwater. But once I understand she’s okay not knowing certain things and I don’t press the point, the ringing stops.

  “I do love you,” I tell her, and our lips join as we walk, the ringing sound replaced with the soft crunch of my feet and the early evening woodland sounds.

  “Almost like the night we met,” Gillian jokes. I try to laugh, but for some reason I feel uneasy, almost sick in my stomach.

  Too much home cooking?

  Maybe, but I’m also painfully aware of us having been followed and need to put an end to that before I can leave Gillian alone for a minute, let alone a few days.

  “Xander?” she asks again, picking up on my mood.

  “Just too much of Mama Palazzo’s cooking,” I tell her, trying to convince myself of that.

  “Glad we both had the garlic bread too, we can share our garlic breath” she adds, and I do laugh finally.

  Laughing with Gillian is easy, and it’s often over simple little things that aren’t even funny. But it’s the joy of being with her, the way she says or does things that makes it special.

  Like love, laughing isn’t always about poking fun or just being happy. It’s a unique expression.

  Very… human.

  There’s a loud crack up ahead, like someone heavy standing on a twig.

  Gillian takes a short breath, whispering that she thinks we’re not alone.

  “If all’s well, we’re not,” I explain cryptically, whispering back to her to just act natural and keep talking, maybe call out for the dog some more.

  “Around here was where you saw him wasn’t it?” I ask her calmly, but I can feel Gillian starting to shiver, sensing something’s wrong. And not with us.

  “It’s perfectly safe,” I assure her quietly. “Just hang on to me, and we’ll be home soon.”

  I wander in a wide circle, taking my time, even whistling and calling out for Orion a few times myself.

  I can sense her there, in the darkness, but can’t do much until—

  Suddenly there’s a blood-curdling scream, a woman’s voice, filled with hate.

  Looking up I can see her in the darkness. Big hair, fake chest, even high heels in the woods.

  I think they call them Barbie dolls, and this one right now would be Psycho Barbie for sure.

  She never got her Ken. Ken told her she really wasn’t his type, so she hunted him down, even after years.

  I turn my back, knowing the shots are coming, counting them off. Making sure I get each one and shielding Gillian with my body.

  Shit, I never thought she’d bring a gun. She really is crazy.

  I’m waiting for the grand finale, which was actually supposed to have happened before any shooting, but meh.

  I keep my back turned, asking Gillian if she’s okay, but she seems to have fallen asleep thanks to that thing I do. Lucky for her. It could have been a bit traumatic otherwise.

  “Why won’t you just die,” the voice snarls, a sniveling, overwrought, and very disturbed sounding woman.

  Finally, there are flashlights and calls for her to drop the gun.

  Psycho Barbie melts, collapsing, sobbing to the ground while Sargent Eames moves closer, his gun pointed at her the whole time, ordering her to lay flat on the ground until he can cuff her.

  Hank Stanton comes stumbling out of some bracken, demanding to know if anyone’s hurt.

  “Hiya Hank,” I call out into the darkness. “Just in the nick of time,” I add, filled with sarcasm because he’s earned it.

  “It’s Lucy Brennon alright,” Eames confirms, lifting her cuffed and wobbling on her feet. A heel having finally snapping in the woodland floor.

  “I dare say we might link more than one crime to this gun, too,” Hank adds, carefully picking the weapon up by the grip, dropping it into an evidence bag.

  “How’d you know she’d be here, Xander?” he asks.

  “I didn’t, just a hunch. But when I saw we’d been followed, that’s when I texted you. I thought it might be her, but didn’t see that coming?” I remark eyeing the gun with a shiver.

  “Yeah, I woulda thought she’d be more the stabbing type,” Eames grunts, leading her away.

  “How’s the girl?” Hank asks, peering over with his flashlight.

  “Fainted,” I lie. “I’d best get her home.”

  “Fifteen shots and not a scratch on either of ya,” Hank says, whistling through his teeth. “That’s divine intervention,” he says, crossing himself.

  “Or really bad aim,” I quip.

  “Look, uh. Thanks again, Hank.” I add seriously. “Appreciate the help. Just make sure she gets the help she needs and stays away from me, ya know maintain that restraining order?” I add.

  And my Gillian.

  “Will do Xander, Ms. Brennon’s going away for a long time I think,” Hank says stoically, tipping his hat and making after his junior officer. “We’ll need a formal statement though, but that can wait until morning,” he replies, holding his hand up in final farewell.

  By the time we’re almost back at the car Gillian’s eyes flutter open.

  “Xander? What just happened?” she asks sleepily.

  “Mama Palazzo’s,” I tell her, kissing her forehead and easing her into the passenger side of the car.

  “Happens the first few times, those Cannoli are like sleeping pills.”

  Still groggy, she dreamily rests her head against the window, giving me time to
pause at the trunk and pop it open.

  My gym bag’s there, and I quickly change my shirt, I count the holes in the old one before stowing it away.

  Fifteen at 50 yards in the dark. That’s some shooting and not bad grouping.

  It’s about halfway to the Patterson place when Gillian comes around.

  “Morning,” I joke. “Just in time to tell me how to get there,” I remark casually.

  “We never found Orion,” she pouts before stifling a yawn.

  “I’m sure he’ll turn up,” I assure her, eager to get us both someplace warm that hopefully has a big enough bed for us both.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gillian

  Why do I get the feeling like something’s happened? Like I was there for something but wasn’t there?

  Like the first night, when Xander brushed my hair back casually, putting his hand on my temple, I was out like a light.

  Tonight, one minute we’re whispering that someone’s following us, he tells me to hang on tight no matter what, and the next minute, I’m in his car feeling fine but full of Italian food.

  I’m not too much of a stickler for details, but losing an hour or more of my life with no memory makes me uneasy. If it was with anyone else, I’d be worried.

  But Xander’s so casually dismissive, only asking for directions to the Patterson’s house.

  I might normally make a snide comment about him already knowing where it is, but I’m too interested to see if the house is actually to a standard that could pass the Patterson test.

  Xander’s excitement shows, but he looks more relieved than anything else. Maybe he’s feeling the pressure of getting the house ready in time too.

  That must be it.

  Pulling up to the house, I can see one of the neighbors already waiting by their front door.

  A bad sign.

  “Mrs. Carter, how are you?” I greet her, hardly out of the car myself when she sets upon us both, suddenly taking a step back once Xander gets out and fully stands up.

  “There were men,” she says, clutching her nightgown over her chest, unable to take her wide eyes off Xander.

  Like I said, he has that effect.

  “Men?” he asks her sounding serious. “What kind of men?”

  The middle-aged spinster swallows hard, trembling as she gathers her thoughts.

  “Workmen. All this afternoon. I couldn’t see you, Gillian, and wasn’t sure if I should call Mr. and Mrs. Patterson?”

  “Oh, don’t do that,” I gasp, Xander taking a step towards her, bending over and speaking in that soothing way he does.

  “It’s a bit of a surprise, you see? A way of Gillian saying thank you for letting her stay at the Patterson’s,” he explains.

  The woman’s relief is obvious and heaves a sigh of relief. “Ah, I see. I thought maybe they were selling,” she leans in closer, confiding in Xander. “Not sure if we could take strangers as neighbors, Patterson’s have been here for so long.”

  “I understand,” he nods and once I’ve seen her back to her porch, we make our way back to the house.

  “It’s a nice house,” Xander remarks, nodding his approval at the high arched windows with matching doorways.

  Twelve-foot ceilings.

  “Thought you might like it,” I murmur.

  But the gasps of shock are the only thing out of my mouth after that.

  I hardly recognize the place, it looks even better. Cleaner and more… complete than the day I arrived.

  “This is the right house?” Xander asks, concerned at my reactions for a moment.

  “Yes, yes. I mean, yes it is,” I squeal, creeping at first and then dashing from room to room.

  Everything is just as it should be, but clean. Clean and not looking like some slob’s been using it for twelve months.

  The rear porch lights are on too.

  It never used to work.

  The patio and pool area is lit up as well, with the neatly trimmed and restored garden looking like something out of a magazine.

  The in-ground pool is sparkling clean, like new again

  Greedily, I check off all the things I’ve been worried about.

  Xander wanders off, asking if they have any seltzer water, running his hand over his stomach.

  “Even the grouting in the bathroom!” I call down to him, racing to find the cracked window repaired, the chunk I took out of the wall filled, fixed, and painted.

  Everything.

  It’s just…Perfect.

  A loud belch followed by a relieved sigh from the kitchen signals Xander’s relief from his huge meal too.

  It’s all so perfect, but.

  And it’s a huge but. The butt of mine that’ll be kicked when the Patterson’s find no Orion.

  I could pretend he ran away just before they arrived. Nah. That would never slide.

  As if on cue, there’s a faraway, tired-sounding bark.

  His whining scratch at the front door soon follows and to a chorus of told you so’s from Xander, he’s fed and quickly brushed before I put him in the laundry room for the night.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” I tell Xander, really meaning it.

  I’ve never felt such a huge weight lifted from my shoulders.

  His look tells me everything in a second. I know he hasn’t arranged all this just to seduce me, but I do recall feeling that tonight would be the night.

  And without the stress and worry of the house, the dog?

  It’s not hard to feel that magic between Xander and me all brand new again.

  “Why don’t we go sit on the couch and talk about it?” he suggests, offering me a sip of his seltzer water.

  He listens patiently, even interested as I talk myself down from feeling hyper-relieved to my normal self again.

  I can see there’s plenty on his mind too suddenly, and then it hits me.

  I’m supposed to be leaving tomorrow too. We haven’t even discussed that, but Xander seems concerned about something else.

  If I’m not at the Patterson’s, I guess I’ll be at his place, right?

  “They’re due back at nine-thirty tomorrow morning,” I tell him, wondering if that might prompt him some, but his whole expression changes and he takes a deep breath in, moving his hand over to touch my hair.

  “That’s plenty of time,” is all he says, and like every other time, under that magical touch, those huge but sensitive hands, I’m gone.

  I’m his and I know it.

  Not just for tonight, but for every night after it.

  Xander slowly moves his huge body off the couch, kneeling in front of me which still gives makes him a foot or more over my head, but more manageable.

  I shudder a breath in as he gently opens my legs, pulling me towards him so he’s between them.

  I let him help me out of my sweater and T-shirt, not feeling cold or shy at all when he stares down, smiling with a groan of satisfaction.

  My nipples are like bullets before he touches them.

  Having him so close, the heat and desire from his own body is already putting my arousal into overdrive.

  A part of me wants to leap on him, have him thrust that huge cock of his inside me and pound into me until I scream his name.

  But I can see he wants to take his time. Savoring each moment as he unwraps what’s now truly his.

  He kisses me tenderly, and my chest scratches against his shirt, which feels fresh, my own hands slowly finding the buttons to help him out of it, revealing that enormous chest of his own. A fine line of soft, dark hair across it.

  I trace a hand through it and he returns the favor, brushing each of my pebbled nipples with the flats of his huge palms.

  I feel my head falling back. His mouth moving from one breast to the other as he tenderly strokes them, bringing me so close to orgasm with his mouth just tenderly working my nipples.

  I moan so loud I’m sure the neighbors can hear, but I don’t care. I can’t help or deny the power Xander has over me physically.
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  Yes, he’s my first, but instinct tells me, no woman on earth has had or ever will know such pleasure.

  My hands find his huge shoulders, running over them first with my eyes closed and then open because I have to see for myself that such perfection could actually exist.

  To prove again to myself that any of this is even real.

  Oh, it’s real alright.

  Xander’s taking his time but he wants his favorite part of me, a thick pair of his fingers circling my drenched pussy through my pants as I instinctively open my legs even wider, pushing myself against them.

  “Mine,” he groans and I purr running my hands across his chest, each finger of mine seeming so small against the rippling folds between each sheaf of muscle.

  I hear myself moaning again, feeling I need more than hands and fingers through clothes, and in seconds we’re both completely naked, his thick, hardness leaving a wet trail on my naked rear end as he carries me to my bedroom, laying me gently before him.

  There’s no need to worry about my ankle. It’s about to be fully healed, like the rest of me. Inside and out.

  I gasp at the sight of his full nakedness. I feel emotional, like weeping just at the sight of him. He’s so beautiful but it’s the words he’s telling me I hear echoed back.

  “You’re so beautiful, Gillian. I want you like nothing else and now you’ll be mine.

  If ever there was a perfect male form, he’s it. I could watch his nakedness all night, but the intense pressure inside me, mixed with the sight of his thick hardness.

  A steady stream of his own imminent climax already showing, clear and thick. I reach out for it with my hand, feeling its heat and bringing it to my mouth, I start to shudder.

  “I need you inside me, Xander. I want you to come inside me. Fill me with it…” I gasp, moaning at first, but whimpering again, begging him for it by the time he’s positioned himself over me.

  He growls low, moving his head down my body, wanting to pleasure me with his mouth first, but I shake my head, moaning out little sounds of desperation.

  “Fuck me, Xander. I need your cock inside me. Fuck me with it and come in me, give me our babies,” I pant, breathless now, writhing under him and grasping at the air with both hands, desperate to find what I crave.