Chapter 5
She slid slowly down his body, and her feet touched the soft carpet. At some point her shoes had fallen off; she couldn’t say when.
Merciful heavens above.
She was going to see JK Kenzie naked.
Her breath hitched at the sheer absurdity and wonder of it. This wasn’t a movie or a fantasy or the safe glow of a screen — this was him, standing only a breath away, flesh and blood and impossibly real.
He stepped back just enough to look at her, his gaze sweeping over her face as though he were memorizing every reaction. A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth — the kind that said he knew exactly what was racing through her mind.
“Hey,” he murmured, voice warm and low, “you okay?”
She nodded quickly. “Perfectly fine. Completely normal. Totally calm.”
One of his brows lifted. “That right?”
“Absolutely.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable.
His smile deepened, soft and devastating. He lifted an arm and unclipped a cufflink, rolling it into his palm before repeating the process on the other side. The onyx stones winked under the warm lamplight as he set them on the bedside table.
Right beside several foil packets.
Heat flared up her neck.
Of course he’d be prepared. He was a movie star, after all — men like him didn’t leave things to chance. But seeing them there, unmistakable in their intent, sent a flutter of nerves and anticipation spiraling through her.
This was really happening.
And not in the hazy “wouldn’t it be wild” corners of her imagination — but now, with him, in this quiet secluded cabin that smelled faintly of lemon and pine.
In. Real. Life.
She was not ready for this.
Except … oh, she absolutely was.
Justin looked up, catching her gaze, and a slow, lopsided knowing grin tugged at his lips. She tried to think of something witty but came up blank.
“Thankfully, my security boys are better prepared than me.”
She blinked. “So … tonight …”
He sighed, a faint shake in his breath. “I didn’t plan tonight, Suzette. It just … fell into place.”
She swallowed, her pulse skittering. “I—well … I didn’t expect any of this either,” she admitted softly. “But I’m not sorry it’s happening.” Her gaze dipped to his mouth, then lifted again, steadier this time.
Not yet. Regrets were for tomorrow.
“Good.” He started on the buttons of his shirt, fingers steady, eyes locked on hers.
She lifted her hand and covered his. “May I?”
His smile …
It broke across his face like sunlight bursting through grey clouds after a thunderstorm — sharp and pure and warm enough to undo her completely. His arms dropped to his sides. “Absolutely.”
She stepped closer, her fingers trembling just enough to betray her nerves. The first button slipped free beneath her touch. Then the second. With each one, more of him was revealed — the warm skin, the hard lines of muscle, the faint trail of hair beneath his sternum.
He drew in a quiet, uneven breath, as though her touch undid him more than the kiss had.
Suzette’s heart thudded wildly.
She’d seen this man on giant movie screens, lit like a god.
But here, under soft lamplight, under the touch of her fingers, he was breathtaking in a completely different way.
Real. Solid.
Hers.
For the night.
She worked open another button, then another, until the shirt hung loose. Sliding her hands beneath the fabric, she pushed it slowly off his shoulders and down his arms. The cotton fluttered to the floor.
He stood before her, bare-chested, every line of him reminiscent of an old-world masterpiece. Only his quickening breaths betrayed that he was as unraveled as she felt.
A faint yellow shadow just beneath his ribcage caught her eye.
Suzette’s breath hitched. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed her fingertips over the bruise. “What happened here?”
“That’s from the explosion on set last week.”
Her eyes widened. “Explosion?”
He gave a crooked, sheepish smile. “Controlled explosion. Supposed to be controlled, anyway. I misjudged the timing.”
Suzette’s stomach tightened. Of course. He did his own stunts. Reckless man. “You could have been seriously hurt.”
He covered her hand with his, warm fingers closing gently around hers. “Comes with the job. I’m fine.”
“But still,” she murmured, her thumb brushing the edge of the bruise again, softer this time. “You should take better care of yourself.”
His expression shifted — heat, yes, but something tender threaded through it now. “I will. Starting tonight.” He leaned in, voice dipping. “Now… how about I do something about removing this dress?”
She nodded, her hands moving instinctively to her lower back, fingers searching for the zipper.
He brushed them aside, his touch warm and sure.
“Allow me,” he murmured, slipping his hands beneath the drape of fabric and finding the concealed zipper with practiced ease.
He drew it down, and his hands trailed back up before hooking the neckline and easing the dress from her shoulders, her arms … inch by inch.
The satin slipped past her hips and pooled at her feet in a soft circle of blue. She stood in nothing but the backless shapewear, feeling completely exposed. Her breath shivered out of her.
Her fingers curled at her sides.
What if he didn’t like what he saw?
She wasn’t twenty. She wasn’t perfect.
And he’d bedded supermodels. Exquisite women.
And he wasn’t saying anything.
Panic flared.
This was a mistake.
A huge, colossal mistake.
An earth-destroying-meteoroid mistake.
Her eyelids slammed shut. Hard.
What had she been thinking?
“Open your eyes, sweet Suze.”
She forced them open.
Forced herself to look at him.
Without breaking eye contact, he sank onto the edge of the bed and reached for her, his hands warm as they closed around her hips and guided her forward. He looked up at her as though she were something precious — something he’d only ever dreamed of touching.
He’s an actor, her mind screamed. He can conjure any expression.
But his next words … they didn’t feel conjured at all.
“Suzette,” he whispered, voice roughened with something that sent a shiver down her spine, “you are beautiful.”
Her knees nearly buckled.
The way he said it — soft, reverent, almost breathless — made her feel suddenly weightless.
Wanted.
Seen.
Chosen.
*
It was like unwrapping an unexpected gift on Christmas morning.
One he hadn’t dared hope for.
One he sure as hell hadn’t earned.
He’d been with beautiful women. God knew he’d seen perfection sculpted by trainers and lighting and movie magic.
But nothing, nothing prepared him for Suzette.
For the curve of her waist, the soft lines of her hips, the vulnerability in her eyes.
For the raw honesty of her standing there in nothing but courage and trembling breath —
And a skin-colored bodysuit he had absolutely no idea how to remove.
A shaky laugh escaped him. “What’s the secret to getting this off?”
“I should’ve changed …”
He shook his head quickly. “No. I wanted to peel that pretty blue dress off your skin the moment I saw you walk down the aisle. I just didn’t expect to find a chastity belt underneath.”
She snorted. Actually snorted. And it was the cutest damn sound he’d heard in his life.
He traced the edge of the material, trying to look knowledgeable. “Okay… there has to be an entry point. A seam. A trapdoor. Something.”
Her breath caught — half laugh, half something. He glanced up at her face, softer now, humor threaded with a shyness that tugged at something deep in his chest.
“There’s a clasp … here.” She pointed to the valley between her breasts.
His own throat tightened. He lifted his hands — careful, suddenly … nervous? — and awareness jolted through him when the backs of his fingers brushed against the silk encasing her breasts.
He found the clasp and flicked it open. The bodysuit slackened instantly, the fabric releasing tension like a held breath.
“Then you just … peel it off,” she whispered.
He eased it away from her breasts.
Air lodged in his throat.
She was breathtaking.
A reverent sound escaped him before he could stop it. He lifted his hands slowly, carefully, his palms skimming her curves, memorizing the warmth of her, the way she trembled. Her nipples puckered under his touch.
She gasped. He groaned.
He lowered his head and closed his mouth on a hard pink nub, feasting on the bounty bared to him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, nails scraping his scalp, holding him close.
Every part of him burned for her.
Every breath, every heartbeat, every ragged pulse of need.
He wanted her with a hunger that shook him.
More, he needed her. Needed in her.
Needed to feel her sweet warmth as he joined with her, making them one.
He needed that. Now.
His hands found the material still hugging her hips. “Off. Now,” he rasped, tugging the spandex over her hips and down her thighs, holding her steady as she stepped out of it.
He wanted to tell her she was stunning, breathtaking, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen … but the words felt too small for the truth.
Instead, he’d show her.
He placed a light kiss on her sternum, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her skin, floral and fresh and very feminine, before standing on his not so steady legs. He dragged the comforter from the bed in one swift motion and turned—
And froze.
Glorious body on full display, Suzette arched back, shaking her hair loose, fingers combing through the cascade of liquid gold as it spilled down her back, shimmering in the lamplight. It was the kind of sight that stole the breath right out of a man’s lungs.
Was there no end to her allure?
“Hot damn, sweet Suze. Are you trying to kill me?”
He toed off his shoes, shucked his pants with record speed, snagged her hand, and they tumbled back onto the mattress together.
And then it was all heat and breath and the sweet slide of bodies finding each other — a tangle of sighs, laughter, and desperate, beautiful wanting.
His hands mapped her, her body arched into his, and the room filled with the low, mumbled sounds of two people who could no longer hold back.
Two people who seized the moment, who understood that this night belonged to them.
To them only.
And when he rose above her and drove into her, hard as steel, fast as lightning, she welcomed him, all slick heat and soft body. His sweet, sweet Suzette took all he gave, offered even more back.
She closed around him when she came, squeezing like a fist. He’d known from the moment he laid eyes on her a week ago that he wanted her in his bed. But this … her body arching beneath his, quaking and moaning … her legs gripping his hips with surprising strength … something deep inside shifted.
This wasn’t about one night.
This was about more.
About forever.
And that knowledge shot him over the edge, and he threw his head back, roaring his release.
*
Justin slept beside her, warm and impossibly beautiful, and for a fleeting moment she let herself imagine a world where a night like this meant more.
A world where a man like him might stay.
Where she might let herself hope.
But she knew better.
She had lived long enough to understand the difference between fantasy and reality.
It had been one night.
One impossible, perfect night.
And that was all it would ever be.
Soon, Maebh would arrive to collect her, sneaking her back before the household stirred.
Then she and Miem would say their farewells, someone from the ranch would drive them to Lubbock airport, and they would begin the long journey home — commercial travel this time, though at least in comfort, their long-haul seats booked in first class.
By this time tomorrow, JK Kenzie would be nothing more than a memory she would lock away and treasure quietly for the rest of her days.
*
The flight to LA felt twice as long as it should have. Outside, the weather churned — angry skies, sheets of rain, turbulence that rattled the cabin. It matched his mood perfectly.
The jet, usually his sanctuary, felt hollow.
Too quiet.
Too empty.
He dragged a hand down his face and stared out at the storm clouds. Work awaited him in LA but for the first time in years, none of it sparked anything in him.
He needed … something else.
No, not something.
Someone.
He opened his eyes to the storm-torn sky, the plan forming.
He wasn’t done with Suzette Bosch.
Not by a long shot.
He grabbed his phone. A moment later his assistant answered, bright and crisp as ever. “Good morning, Justin—”
“I need some time off,” he cut in. “Soon.”
A pause. “Time off? You don’t take time off.”
“Well, I’m taking some now.”
“Vacation?” she asked, startled.
“Yeah,” he muttered, staring unseeingly at the clouds. “Vacation.”
Another pause. “Where do you want to go?”
“South Africa. Paternoster.”