Chapter 17
Justin stilled. He had never gone without protection. Never. A rule carved in stone through years of abundant caution.
But bare with Suzette?
The thought hit him like a punch to the chest.
Yes. God, yes.
He wanted that — wanted her — in every possible way.
He tossed the foil packets aside and crawled onto the bed, moving over her with a slow, deliberate intent that stole the air from her lungs.
His mouth found her skin, tracing a wandering path — shoulder, collarbone, the soft dip beneath her ear — mapping her like he’d been waiting his whole life to learn her by heart.
Every place he lingered drew a small, trembling response from her, each one tightening the coil of desire pulling him under.
The urge to take, to claim, to make her his in every possible way, throbbed through him with near-painful clarity.
But he held himself back, choosing instead to savor the way she arched toward him, the way trust softened her eyes, the way letting him close seemed to cost her something — and gift him everything.
Tonight wasn’t about possession.
It was about belonging.
His lips finally found hers, and he kissed her — slow and deep and overflowing with every feeling he hadn’t known until her.
And everything faded to just her.
To the warmth of her mouth, the soft catch of her breath, the way her fingers slid up his back as if she were anchoring herself to him.
He lifted his hand to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “You undo me,” he murmured, voice rough. Pressing his forehead to hers, he breathed her in, letting the emotion crash through him without shield or restraint.
Her hands came up to frame his jaw, gentle but sure, guiding him just enough that he lifted his head to meet her gaze. And what he saw there — raw tenderness, fear, longing, and something achingly familiar — hit him with the force of truth.
He leaned in, brushing the faintest kiss to her lips, soft and reverent, more breath than contact — a promise rather than a question.
“I love you,” he whispered into her mouth.
She went completely still. Time seemed to stall, then her eyes shimmered, catching the low light. A tear slipped free, tracking down her temple, disappearing in her hair.
Before he could say her name, she surged up and kissed him with ferocity and fervor, stealing the very breath right from his lungs. It was a kiss that answered him without a single word.
A kiss that told him she felt exactly what he did.
A kiss that said I love you too, even if she couldn’t speak it yet.
She clutched his back, her body moving restlessly beneath his, her leg hitching up his side.
And the weighty control holding him back snapped and he shifted, lined himself up and pushed in.
All the way in.
Feeling her — skin to skin, every barrier stripped away, emotional and physical — hit him with a force that stole his breath.
It overwhelmed him in the best, most terrifying way, and he had to clamp down hard on his instincts, holding himself in check, half-suspended above her as if one wrong move might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.
He searched her face, every flicker of emotion, needing to be absolutely certain. “You okay?” he managed, his voice rough with restraint and reverence.
She lifted a hand and cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth in a touch so gentle it nearly undid him. “I’m okay,” she whispered, breath warm against his lips. “More than okay.”
The small, tremulous smile that followed wasn’t just reassurance — it was trust. Surrender. A quiet, precious yes.
Yes to him.
Yes to them.
And it settled something deep in his chest, steadying him in a way he hadn’t known he needed.
Each thrust of his hips wrenched sweet incomprehensible moans from her throat, spurring him on. He pulled back a bit, repositioned her leg, shin against his chest, and plunged back.
Deeper. Harder. Again and again.
And those soft sounds she made deepened — turning into breathy, broken cries of pleasure that shot straight through him, tightening every muscle he had. “More … yes … right there … Justin.”
Hearing his name like that — pleaded, breathless, threaded with trust and need — ignited something fierce and reverent inside him.
Never had his name felt sweeter, like a confession and a promise all at once. “Sweet Suze…” The words tore out of him, rough and reverent all at once. “My love.”
With those words she broke apart, arching into him, crying out. Heat gathered in his hips, robbing him of everything except the need to possess. To claim. To—
“Mine. All mine,” he roared, his release sudden and sharp and blinding, taking him to the edge of consciousness.
His movements slowed, stopped. Drained, exhausted, he lowered himself on trembling arm and buried his head in the curve of her shoulder. “You’ll be the death of me,” he managed after a few ragged breaths. “But damn, what a way to go.”
A soft laugh fluttered out of her, warm and breathy, brushing over his skin like a caress. Her fingers slipped into his hair, combing through the damp curls at his nape with gentle strokes that undid him even further.
“You’re ridiculous,” she whispered, affection threading through every syllable. Another light laugh. “Ridiculous … and wonderful.”
He lifted his head just enough to see her face — her flushed cheeks, her mussed hair, the lingering shimmer of emotion in her eyes — and something in his chest clenched painfully.
If he hadn’t already loved her, that moment alone would have done it.
*
A light breeze drifted through the open window, carrying the faint scent of salty brine and a hint of wild rosemary.
Justin lay beside her, his breathing deep and even, the steady warmth of his body anchoring her.
If she’d ever harbored doubts about his feelings for her, tonight had eliminated them.
Not merely eliminated — obliterated. Wiped out with the force of a nuclear blast.
And she wasn’t just talking about the sex.
Phenomenal as it was, it was the emotion threaded through every look, every touch, every word.
Justin McKenzie — JK Kenzie, billionaire movie star, global heartthrob — loved her.
And he was prepared to give up that part of his life. For her.
Her.
The girl abandoned as a child, the woman overlooked by her own husband.
But he didn’t know all about her.
And when she revealed her lowest point — the things she had done simply to survive, to keep a roof over her head and food on the table — would that love wither and die in disgust?
Would his eyes, so full of adoration now, harden with revulsion?
The thought alone threatened to break her.
She had to tell him. Keeping it buried would only make the truth fester between them. But could he handle it?
It was the last thought before sleep claimed her.
*
He’d left early, promising to join her later that morning for the Christmas luncheon.
Suzette dressed with care, smoothing down the folds of her pale blue lacy maxi dress, the subtle gold thread catching the soft summer light streaming through the bedroom windows.
Her original choice had been a white shoestring-strap dress, but Justin’s gift had changed that plan.
She’d admired the crystal pendant and earrings in the kiosk for weeks, though they’d always lived firmly in the one-day category of her budget.
She leaned closer to the mirror, hooked the earrings into place, and stepped back to survey the effect.
The stones picked up the exact shade of her eyes — something Justin had pointed out — and the deep halter neckline formed the perfect frame for the aquamarine where it rested in the curve between her breasts.
She wore no bra today; she wasn’t in the mood for the tight confines of the monstrosity that usually paired with the dress.
Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, so she twisted it loosely and secured it at the base of her neck with a simple claw clip. A second sweep of mascara, a touch of gloss, a whisper of perfume before stepping into soft leather flats trimmed in delicate blue beads.
She caught her reflection and felt a flutter of nerves rise in her chest. Justin had called her beautiful — and for the first time in her life, she actually felt it. Maybe that was what a night of passionate lovemaking did to a woman. Lit something warm and glowing deep inside her.
And a tiny, unexpected part of her thought that if she were photographed beside JK Kenzie today … at least she looked her best.
Early-bird hotel guests were already gathered in the boma, nibbling at the continental spread while a skeleton crew kept the coffee flowing. At eleven, everyone would move up to the patio for the main Christmas meal.
Suzette moved among them for several minutes, offering warm wishes and easy smiles, crouching to admire the little driftwood-carved doll, its dress painted in bright African colors, which a little girl proudly held up to her.
With everyone content in the warm, laid-back holiday mood, she slipped toward the kitchen where any hint of laid-back calm vanished.
Her team was already in full prep mode for the buffet.
Unlike the previous night’s dinner reserved for in-house guests only, the luncheon drew locals as well, swelling their numbers from thirty-four to more than seventy. Not much by big-hotel standards, perhaps, but for a small boutique establishment it meant all hands on deck.
And that’s where she found him — stationed behind the prep table, sleeves rolled up, quietly chopping fruit as though he belonged there.
Just another pair of hands in an apron and hairnet, laughing and chatting with the staff as if he’d always belonged there.
It was an almost comically incongruous sight.
The billionaire movie star.
The global heartthrob.
Happily slicing papaya.
A laugh bubbled up before she could stop it — quiet, disbelieving, fond.
He looked up, his eyes brightening the moment they landed on her.
And then, as his gaze swept over her, it sharpened into something hotter, hungrier.
And just like that, the amusement inside her faltered, collapsing into something heavier.
Something that curled low in her stomach and refused to ease. Fear.
He made it far too easy to imagine a tomorrow with him.
What if that heat — that tenderness, that love — faded?
What if—
“Ai, Mies Suzette. Daai man … hy’s dolverlief op jou.”
She glanced at Alma. The woman was one of her very first hires when she’d started working at the hotel and, over the years, had become her right-hand woman. Suzette considered her a friend, but no matter how many times she’d begged the woman to drop the Mies title, Alma refused.
“I know,” she murmured.
After last night there was no doubt Justin was in love with her. But—
“Uh-uh.” Alma narrowed her eyes. “You are not going to mess this up, Suzette Bosch. If anyone deserves to be swept off their feet, it’s you. You grab hold of that man, and you do not let go.”
Alma spun around, snatched up a crate filled with white cloth serviettes folded into neat cone shapes with tiny white and blue Christmas hats perched on top, and shoved it into Suzette’s hands.
“Keep yourself busy before that mind of yours comes up with reasons to sabotage this,” she ordered, then turned Suzette around and gave her a firm push toward the restaurant. “Chop-chop.”
*
Justin watched the exchange between Suzette and Alma with a sinking feeling.
It wasn’t hard to discern the worry tightening Suzette’s expression.
She’d woken subdued, and while their early-morning lovemaking had been deeply satisfying, there had been an undercurrent to it — a tenderness edged with something he could only call poignancy.
There had been shadows in her eyes.
And he wasn’t talking from a lack of sleep.
The clearing of a throat ripped him from his thoughts. Alma stood there, arms folded, eyes sharp.
“You make sure you treat her right, Mister Justin. That one” — she tapped a fist against her chest — “she carries a heavy hurt here. She’s been alone too long. As much as we’ll be sad to see her leave, we’ll be even gladder to see her happy.”
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “And when she tries — because she is going to try — you do not let her push you away. You hear?”
Justin swallowed and nodded. “I hear you,” he said quietly. “And I’ll treat her right. I don’t want to take her away from anything. I just want to be part of her world.”
Alma, younger than him by at least a decade, gave him a long, measuring look. “This place gave her peace,” she said softly. “But with the right man loving her, she won’t need these walls to feel safe.”
And with that, she stomped off, already barking instructions at someone across the kitchen.
Justin stared after her, a wave of gratitude washing through him. Suzette had strong women in her corner — Miem and Alma would close ranks around her in a heartbeat if things went sideways.
In the meantime, he had several more papayas to peel and slice.