Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
JOSH
For the second morning in a row, Cassidy St. Claire was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, and she was so beautiful he couldn’t breathe.
She was a work of art. A Botticellian beauty painted in watercolour, all curves and softness pressed against his hard, lean edges, a secret garden of jasmine and sleepy sweat clouding his thoughts. The personification of plenty, and still, he’d never get enough of her. He wanted to tattoo each tendril of her dark curls onto his chest and permanently imprint her on his body.
He stroked her hair back from her face. “What have you done to me?” he whispered into her temple, like she would answer him in her sleep, and when she didn’t, he turned to wrestling with his raging thoughts.
On one side, something had awakened in him. She shone a light and saw him. Him , not a version of what was expected. Who challenged him and shared his values and understood what he was about and what he wanted.
On the other side, his brain ordered his heart to stop before it went any further.
The second side was losing. Had lost .
Because he’d fallen in love with her. This beautiful ray of sunshine had claimed his heart.
And it was going to end before it even began.
It had been a punch to the gut when she had said she was preparing for him to leave. Not because she was wrong, but because she was right. Their time was running out.
Focus on the time you have with her. It was all he could do. He leaned in to kiss the space between her brows and quietly snuck out of bed.
Thin winter sun snuck through the cracks in the curtains, sending pale blue shadows across the cluttered countertops. He shoved aside the feeling that he was invading her cupboards, even though she’d given him explicit instructions to not wake her up for his caffeine fix after showing him where everything was.
Their mugs from yesterday—her extra tall mug with Aunties let you get away with more and his hand-painted neon monstrosity—were upside down in the drying rack beside the sink. He snickered as he pulled them out and felt an unexpected pang at their mugs . He set the coffee to brew and turned to his phone to flick through the messages that came in overnight.
A handful of group spam texts with the generic Merry Christmas, his dad, and ones from old hookups were ignored as he went straight to the creative team group text that had exploded.
Stephen
Merry Christmas!
u ready for next week?
Then
We have a problem
hey call me back
dude call me
Terry
I’m on my way to set.
Recalling the team now.
A bucket of ice water doused his insides, and Josh braced himself as he dialled. “Yo.”
Stephen’s voice came through a Bluetooth, road noises punctuating the background. “It’s not an emergency yet, but we need you on set now.”
“What happened?”
“Word is union might strike and we need to wrap before they go out for who knows how long.”
How was that not an emergency? It was the day after Christmas. Last time he checked, that was a stat holiday. That meant union wages would be astronomical. If they could get everyone back on set.
Shit. Josh raked his free hand through his hair. They’d never cross picket lines. That meant they had to hustle even more than usual to finish principal photography. No delays. No mistakes.
No distractions.
A chill crept over his bare shoulders as he stared at the open bedroom door. “On it.”
Stephen continued rapid fire, “Terry has it under control and is working all the coordination. Brynne and Dawson are already on their way back. We’ll be ready for prep tonight.”
Anxiety needled his chest as Stephen rattled off the remaining instructions. Cass shuffled out of the bedroom with the duvet wrapped around her body and her phone in her hand, holding up the screen and giving a chagrined smile.
Cass yawned widely and rubbed the heel of her palm against her cheekbone. “Want to drive in together?” she asked, gliding over to the counter.
His chest hollowed at the sight of her messy curls and sleepy eyes. They should have had days together before the frenzy of filming pick ed back up. Space to breathe before the mad rush to the end.
He wanted to bury himself in her. To put his mouth on her smile and steal her breath, the soft sighs she made when he ground his hips against her. To hide with her, here, to order takeout and not leave her apartment until the new year.
He thought they’d have more time.
As soon as filming wrapped, he’d be going home. And she’d be here. Looking heartbreakingly beautiful and over a thousand kilometers away from him.
Josh stared at the fifty-eight second call log, grinding his teeth together as the screen faded to black. Less than a minute to change everything. She wasn’t due on set until the afternoon. Technically neither was he, but the longer he stayed with her today, the harder it would be to pull away.
“No. I’ll go in alone.”
“Okay, do you want me to drive you to your place?”
“I’ll order an Uber.”
The last of her sleep faded from her eyes. “Oh.” Cass said in a voice just a breath above a whisper. “Right.”
His things were scooped up in minutes. He spent extra time brushing his teeth to stretch out the time before his ride arrived. His dentist would be so pleased. With his pyjamas, slippers, and toiletries shoved in his bag, he hoisted it over his shoulder as he watched the avatar on the Uber tick closer.
The coffee pot gurgled the last sputters into the carafe, and Cass dithered, slightly blocking the front door. “You have time for a cup,” she offered.
It wasn’t about the ride or coffee. It was written all over her face. Lips parted, eyes wide as she wavered back and forth on her feet. Closer, farther.
He wanted to meet her forwards lean and catch her mouth. To push the duvet from her shoulders and take her on the floor. Now. Put his tongue on her breasts and his hand between her thighs, then drive his cock into her until she choked out his name.
Then curl up with her on her couch. Listen to her recite her favourite fan theories. Leaf through the sketchbook she’d left open on the coffee table. Go to sleep with her and wake up beside her every morning.
There wasn’t enough time for any of it.
He tightened his hand on his bag. “I’ll grab a coffee on the way. I’m going to wait downstairs.”
“Of course.” Her voice was sweet as toffee and just as brittle, curls bobbing around her cheeks as she busied herself with her own cup, sloshing creamer onto the counter.
He should go. Walk out that front door now and wait downstairs. Not turn back. He reached for the handle, but his body wouldn’t let him go through.
Fuck it .
He grabbed her chin and forced her lips to his. Her mouth opened, and a hush of air escaped that he claimed as his own. He crushed her to his torso, hard, her hands sliding up the back of his shirt as she submitted to his attack. Hard, needy.
She was a drug, his drug, intoxicating, consuming, a craving he couldn’t sate. A shot straight into his veins. A guttural noise broke from his throat, and he bit her lip, pinning her to the wall as his heart threatened to beat right out of his chest.
Don’t tell her you love her right before you leave her, asshole.
“I’ll see you on set later,” he said, forehead resting on hers, before dropping his mouth to her neck for a last bite. Right where someone would see it. Keep them the fuck away from her. Not like they would be within a thousand kilometers of each other by the end of the month for it to matter.
She pulled back to look at him with bright eyes, slightly breathless, and nodded. “Later.”
He dove in for one more kiss before pulling himself away. “Later,” he confirmed.
He didn’t get her alone for a week.