Page 9

Chapter Five

B ack at the suite, Myst kicked off her boots with a sigh of relief, wiggling her toes against the plush carpet.

The buzz of the city below hummed faintly through the windows, but the room itself was quiet, save for George’s low chuckle as he collapsed onto the couch.

He looked entirely too comfortable there, his long legs stretched out and his arm draped lazily over the backrest like he’d been born to lounge in hotel suites.

“Don’t get used to that,” she teased, tilting her head toward him. “I might start charging rent.”

“Fair enough,” George replied, flashing her that easy grin. “Reckon it’s worth it if you throw in the view.” His gaze lingered on her just a little too long, making her stomach flutter.

Before she could respond, playfully or otherwise, a sharp knock at the door cut through the moment. Myst frowned slightly, already knowing who it would be. Sure enough, Jessie breezed in without waiting for an invitation, her clipboard tucked under one arm and a no-nonsense look firmly in place.

“Sorry to crash your cosy little scene,” Jessie began dryly. She motioned for Myst to step aside, away from George, who was now flipping through the channels on the TV with enviable nonchalance.

“Give me a sec,” Myst murmured to George before following Jessie into the kitchenette and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “What’s up?”

“That’s what I should be asking you,” Jessie said, her voice hushed.

“Look, I like George! He seems solid, which is more than I can say for most people we meet in this business. But…” She paused, tapping her fingers against the clipboard.

“You’re not just anyone, Myst. You know how this works.

If word gets out about the two of you, it won’t just be your private life on display, it’ll be his too.

And fans? They’re… unpredictable. Some will love it; some won’t.

And the media?” She raised an eyebrow. “They’ll tear it apart for sport. ”

Myst sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. “Jessie, I get it. But I can’t keep living my life worrying about what everyone else thinks. I’m allowed to have something for myself, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are,” Jessie said gently, her expression softening. “But just… think about it, okay? Protect yourself. Protect him.” Her pale blue eyes, so much like Myst’s own, held a flicker of concern that made it hard to stay defensive.

“Fine,” Myst relented, though the words tasted bitter. “I’ll think about it.”

Jessie gave her a small nod, satisfied enough, before leaving with a quiet goodnight. Myst stayed behind, staring at the backsplash tiles like they held the answers to questions she couldn’t even articulate.

“Everything alright?” George’s voice broke through her thoughts, warm and steady like the first notes of a favorite song. He stood in the doorway, hands shoved casually into his pockets, but his eyes were all focus.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile. “Just Jessie being Jessie.”

“Ah,” he replied knowingly, stepping closer. “The tough-love type, huh?”

“Something like that.” Myst reached up, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes.

George noticed the movement, his gaze softening.

Without a word, he crossed the small space between them and gently tucked the same strand behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her cheek.

The touch was impossibly light, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of them. Myst reached up, tracing the faint scar above his eyebrow with delicate fingers. “How’d you get this?” she asked quietly.

“Rugby, of course,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “Took a bad hit during a match a few years back. Lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“Guess toughness runs deep, huh?” she said with a teasing lilt, though her touch lingered longer than necessary.

“Depends,” George murmured, leaning ever so slightly closer. “Some things make you want to be careful instead.”

“Careful, huh?” Myst echoed, her lips curving faintly. But before he could respond, she closed the gap between them, her kiss slow and deliberate, testing and tasting all at once. His hand slid to her waist, steadying her as if she might float away.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Myst smiled, genuine and unguarded. She took his hand, threading her fingers through his as she started toward the bedroom.

“Come on,” she said simply, glancing back at him with a spark in her eye. “No interruptions this time.”

The soft glow of the bedside lamp painted warm tones across the room, casting long shadows that danced with their movements. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, a heady mix of anticipation and nerves swirling in her chest as she turned to face him.

George was watching her, his towering frame somehow both imposing and endearingly uncertain. His hands rested lightly at his sides, but his intense blue eyes held hers as if anchoring himself. She could tell he was trying to read her, searching for some unspoken signal.

“You’re staring,” she teased.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, his lips tugging into a crooked smile that made her stomach flip. He stepped closer, his large hands finding her waist with such gentleness it was almost hesitant. “You’re… delicate,” he murmured, his voice softer now, reverent even.

“Delicate?” Myst raised an eyebrow, cocking her head with mock offense. “You say that like I might break.”

“Not break,” George corrected, his thumbs brushing absent circles against the fabric of her dress. “But... I don’t know.” He exhaled slowly, his brow furrowing. “You feel fragile, like I’ve got to be careful or I’ll…”

“Stop right there.” Myst cut him off with a laugh, her hands sliding up to rest on his broad chest. Beneath her fingers, she could feel the steady drumbeat of his heart. “I’m tougher than I look. You don’t play to arenas full of screaming fans without learning how to handle yourself.”

“Still,” he said, looking down at her with that earnest gaze of his, “you’re different. And I don’t want to mess this up by being too…”

“Too what?” she interrupted again, smirking now as she slid her arms around his neck. “Too careful? Too sweet? Too scared?”

“Maybe all of the above.” He chuckled, though it was tinged with self-consciousness. “You make me nervous, Myst.”

“Good,” she shot back, her grin widening. “Keeps you on your toes.”

Before he could respond, Myst shifted her weight, pushing him gently backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

He sat instinctively, his surprised expression drawing a laugh from her throat.

Climbing onto his lap, she looped her arms more securely around his neck, her dark waves slipping over one shoulder as she leaned in close.

“Listen,” she said, her voice dropping to a low murmur, “if you’re afraid to take the lead, then I guess I’ll have to do it for you.”

“Is that so?” George asked, his tone teasing but his breath catching slightly as her lips grazed the line of his jaw.

“Mm-hmm,” Myst hummed in reply, pressing another kiss just below his ear. She felt him tighten beneath her, his hands gripping her hips like he wasn’t sure whether to pull her closer or hold her steady.

“You’re full of surprises,” he muttered, his voice turning huskier with each passing second.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep up,” she whispered, her pale blue eyes sparkling as she met his gaze. Then, deliberately slowly, she pushed him back fully onto the mattress, her small frame pinning him despite the obvious size difference.

“Challenge accepted,” George murmured, his hands finally pulling her flush against him.

Passion consumed them as they tumbled back together onto the king-sized bed, the soft sheets molding to their heated bodies.

George’s hands roamed the curves of Myst’s body, as if he were memorizing every inch of her, while she pulled him closer, craving his touch.

Their mouths fused together, their kisses hungry and demanding.

George rolled them over so that Myst was beneath him, his strong arms bracing his weight.

He looked down at her, his blue eyes darkened with desire but also filled with something softer, a kind of reverence that made her heart flutter.

He trailed his fingers along her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear again, his touch tender despite the fire burning in his gaze.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m not going to question it.”

Myst smiled up at him, her own eyes reflecting the same mix of passion and affection. “You didn’t do anything,” she whispered. “You’re just you, George. That’s enough.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, this time slow and deep, savouring the moment.

Her hands explored his broad back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his shirt.

She tugged at the fabric, wanting to feel his skin against hers.

He obliged, breaking their kiss just long enough to pull his shirt off and toss it aside.

Her breath caught at the sight of him, all hard muscles and rough edges. She ran her hands over his chest, tracing the lines of his tattoos, each one telling a story she wanted to learn. He shivered beneath her touch, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Your turn,” he said softly, reaching for the hem of her dress. She lifted her arms, allowing him to slip it off, leaving her in just her bra and underwear. His gaze swept over her, taking in every detail, making her feel both vulnerable and cherished.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, his hand cupping her cheek before sliding down to her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder, as if he couldn’t stop touching her.

She arched into his touch, her own hands reaching for his belt. He helped her, slipping out of his jeans until they were both bare, their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and heated skin.