When Stars Collide

by Aliyah Burke

  The next time she saw him, she spun around in another man’s arms. Cort lingered along the edge of the dancing area, a drink in his hand and his gaze pinned unflinchingly upon her, following her around. She did her best to keep her attention on Jackson, the man she currently danced with, but no matter where they were she could feel Cort’s intense stare. It burned her. Enflamed her. Made her wonder if she weren’t playing with fire.

  At the start of a new dance, her brother cut in. As they moved together he smiled down at her.

  “Thanks for coming home, Zémire.”

  Her smile slipped unforced onto her face. “I’m glad I could be here for it. I know it’s been a while since I’ve been home.”

  “Well, don’t tell anyone but having you here is the best present I could have asked for.”

  She rolled her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest. BB had always made her feel so safe. Sometimes a girl just needed to go home. It was just the two of them now. Their parents had died in a car crash five years ago.

  “Mind if I cut in for the next one?” Cort’s deep, silvered voice jerked her eyes wide open.

  “Not at all,” BB said before she could respond one way or the other.

  The transition from brother to Cort was done smoothly and she had a little hope the song would be faster. Hope that faded when the strains of a slow, romantic song began to play. Cort held her close when she made to step back.

  “Don’t go,” he mumbled, moving them in time with the beat.

  Keeping a bit of space between them, she remained in his arms. His strength and heat surrounded her, making her feel slightly lightheaded. If this was what a dance made her feel like, what would skin on skin be like?

  Crap. I need to not think about things like that.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she lied.

  “Really? I’m not. I’m harder than hell thinkin’ what it would be like to slowly strip those damn taunting clothes from your luscious body and taste every inch of your delectable skin.”

  She tripped over her feet at that vivid imagery. Luckily for her, Cort’s strength held her up and it didn’t even appear that she had faltered. “Don’t say things like that.”

  “Why? It’s the truth.”

  “I know how these parties are, Cort. People hook up at them. And…and I don’t want to give you the impression I’ll be doing that with you.”

  “Even though you want to.”

  Again, not a question.

  “Yes,” she uttered. “Even though I may want to.”

  He quirked a brow. “May?”

  “Fine. Do. It doesn’t matter. It’s not happening.”

  The hand he had on her waist continually drove her to distraction. Somehow, he’d managed to slip it up under the hem of her shirt so it rested against bare skin. Her body was primed and ready to be loved by this man. Every synapse fired hot and heavy. Each inch of her skin longed to experience his touch.

  He didn’t seem all that concerned by her refusal, no matter how adamant it sounded. At least I thought it did. Can he hear my confliction? His eyes gleamed in the night, courtesy of the coloured lanterns strung around the large Texas yard. She knew how he looked to the casual observer, with the boyish innocence of someone having a grand time. She wasn’t fooled. Not for a second. His eyes carried a hint of the predator in them and when he stared at her, the deepest part of her belly did these funny flips.

  The music shifted smoothly into something a bit faster and without missing a beat they picked up the pace and joined in the two-step going on. She cried off after that dance, heading over to the drink table and grabbing a bottle from the tin bin, which had kept things cool all day despite the sun’s relentless attempts to thwart it. With a practiced move, she used the edge of the table to pop the top off, tossed it in the trash, and walked to the side where darkness couldn’t be held at bay by the festive lights.

  Tipping the bottle to her lips, she drank thirstily until the immediate need had been quenched. One final look over her shoulder at the continuing party and Cort before she wandered towards the barn. Outside the door, she paused and detoured around it, knowing how these gatherings tended to send one or two couples off to seek private solace in the sweet smelling hay.

  She moved without hurry through the night. With the sun below the horizon, the air had cooled considerably, so she was comfortable. Relatively so—this weather was still hotter than she’d experienced in the past few years. Thick blades of grass brushed her legs as she strolled through an open field. She sank to the ground with a contented sigh and tilted her head back to gaze at the star-studded Texas sky. No clouds to hamper her vision and the lack of city lights amplified the brilliance of the stars.

  Wedging the bottle so it would remain upright, she lay back and stared up. The observatory was great, being able to see the stars and planets up close, but there was something magical about being able to see the sky like this. With just the naked eye.

  A smile curled her lips as she moved over constellations, naming them in her head and just thoroughly enjoying the experience. The swirling breeze cooled her heated skin and helped ferry her along to an even more relaxed state. A state that faded the moment the warm Texas air carried to her nose the scent of something that now had a label in her mind. Cortland Kysenzki.

  She bit her lower lip but refused to move when his warmth settled beside her. One would think under the wide-open sky of Texas there wouldn’t be a reason to feel penned in, but she did. Air was difficult to pull in, especially when each breath brought more of Cort’s rugged and heady scent to her quivering nerves.

  “Something you needed, Cort?” she asked in a relatively calm voice.

  “Yes.”

  The single word was drenched in dark, decadent promises. Moisture flooded her pussy and she squeezed her thighs together, praying he wouldn’t notice. He lowered his head closer, blocking out her view of the stars. His breath smelt faintly of beer and something else. In the shadows she could barely see his mouth but when she moved her gaze up, his waited for her.

  “What?” Her question barely audible.

  “Your brother would kill me if he knew where I was and what my intentions are.”

  She licked her lips and shuddered when her tongue touched his mouth. He was so close.

  “I…I…what are your intentions?”

  His tongue slid along her lips, tracing the path hers had just taken. She melted, her body unable to do anything other than sink back into the cradle provided by Mother Earth. He followed her, covering her with his hard physique. Slowly, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, he sought entrance to her mouth and explored the depths opened to him.

  Unexplained feeling erupted up from within her and spread like a wildfire throughout. She shifted against him and stroked her tongue along his. His growl reverberated against her chest and she wrapped her arms around him. Her earlier determination to refuse him all but forgotten, she gave herself over to his intoxicating touch. His large hands trailed down her body and with deliberate action began to lift her shirt.

  “One chance, Zémire.”

  He nibbled along her jaw and down her exposed neck, the silken strands of his hair teasing her skin. Creating a need deep within her that she craved to have extinguished.

  She sank a hand into his hair and ran the other over one muscular shoulder, holding him closer, nails digging through cotton to flesh. He nipped her and shocks jolted throughout her entire being in response. She arched up, desperate to be closer, and he ran a callused palm up her back, settling over the strap of her bra.

  There was no going back. One didn’t settle for a mere taste when the entire treat was within her grasp. She wanted him, and she shut down the responsible part of her brain that told her this wasn’t a good idea. It didn’t matter what anyone else would think, say, or construe. This was for her.

  “Cort,” she barely managed to mumble.

  “Mine,” he replied in a low yet definite proprietary growl
before his mouth covered hers. Unlike the first time, this was a dominating kiss. He took. She gave. And he took some more.

  Chapter Two

  Two months later

  Observatoire du Pic du Midi de Bigorre, French Pyrénées

  Cort swallowed down the lump of uncertainty that had lodged itself in his throat. Even though it was summer, the air outside had a cool bite to it. He rubbed his hands along the thighs of his jeans and checked his watch again. Exhausted, he wanted nothing more than to find a bed and catch some sleep but he had to see Zémire first and foremost.

  Zémire. Just her name could take him back to that night beneath the blanket of Texas stars where he’d made love to her more than once. Hell, he’d even fallen asleep out there with her wrapped in his arms. Unfortunately, he had woken to a nudge in the ribs and alone, dressed in only his pants. BB stood over him with a knowing grin on his face before chiding him about the one-night stand he’d picked up.

  Cort didn’t tell him it was his sister he’d slept with, knowing it would piss off BB to know his sister had done what they did in a field. Just ignored the ribbing. Back at the house he’d waited as long as he could for her to appear but he’d not seen her again. Before he left to head back to Washington, he’d stopped back by and asked about her, as casually as he could. BB said she’d left, gone back to Europe. He’d not known how to take it, the news having created unfamiliar feelings within him.

  Even now, he was unable to erase the memory of her sultry touch. Her evocative scent—watermelon and freshly fallen snow—and the husky moans she emitted as he stroked deep within her hot, wet slit. He shifted as his cock hardened to the point of being painful and fought to find a more comfortable position which didn’t include it trying to burst from his jeans.

  “Excusez-moi, monsieur.” Cort looked up. “She’s on her way,” the man who’d asked him to wait said, his accent thick.

  “Thank you.”

  The Frenchman left again and Cort turned his attention back to the amazing scenery surrounding the observatory. The view took his breath away, and he was a firm believer that there was no more beautiful place in the world than his beloved Texas. This, however, made him reconsider. If he had more time, he would love to go exploring. It was like being able to see forever.

  Zémire’s husky voice reached him and did nothing to help quell the rod-like state of his shaft. He gulped and turned slowly, grateful for the sunglasses covering his eyes. She strode towards him, chatting easily with a different man than the one who’d met him, her hair pulled up in a ponytail that bounced with each step she took.

  She wore olive green cargo pants in a washed, faded style. They fell to her hiking boots. A black, scooped neck shirt with a khaki abstract design on it fitted enticingly over her full chest. There was no coat so she was obviously used to these climes. His eyes lingered there for a moment before rising to her face.

  Zémire couldn’t hide her shock at seeing him. Not totally. She recovered well and quickly, but he’d caught it. Her tongue sneaked out and dampened her lips. He bit back a groan, wanting nothing more than to gather her and kiss her until she admitted she belonged in his arms.

  To me would work as well.

  She said something to the man with her and he left with a final look between them. Alone at last with her, he could only stare. Zémire slipped her hands into her front pockets and tilted her face up to his.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He took a deep breath and removed his glasses allowing eye-to-eye contact. “Can we go talk somewhere?”

  She frowned slightly and he could see her refusal racing to the surface. Skimming his teeth with his tongue, he reached out and grabbed her wrist in his hand. Her brows shot up.

  “It’s important, Zémire.”

  A heavy sigh. “Sure, come on.”

  He remained immobile as she wheeled around and strode off towards the doors. It took him a few moments to get his head up from the gutter and remember he was here for a specific reason. Not to get into her pants again.

  Speaking of which, his gaze dropped to where her ass swayed seductively in those cool cargo pants. I did say not to get in her pants again, right? He had but that didn’t stop his imagination or the return trip down memory lane.

  She led him to a small room and stood across the space, arms crossed, a defensive look on her face. Cort shut the door and leant against it for a second before he moved to a chair and sat.

  “Sit down, Zémire.”

  “What?”

  “Just…sit down.”

  “Why are you here? It can’t be because of that incident between us.”

  Incident? His blood boiled and it was an intense struggle to keep focussed on the reason he had travelled around the world to find her as opposed to a mere phone call.

  “That wasn’t an incident. What happened with us was a lot of things but an incident isn’t one of them.” He shook his head. “I’m not here about that.”

  “What then?”

  He shoved a hand through his hair. “Please sit down.”

  “If you’re not here about us then…then…” Her arms dropped to her sides and her skin paled. “BB?”

  Cort stared at her in silence. Her lower jaw quivered and she moved to sit across from him.

  “Tell me,” she croaked.

  “He’s missing.” The fear in her gaze took vicious stabs at his heart. “They think he was kidnapped.”

  Fear gave way to panic. “What?!” Her hand slapped over her mouth as she looked furtively around the room, even though it still remained the two of them.

  “He left the country with a group to go down into Mexico.”

  She nodded. “Right. He studies the corollary effects and ramifications of human development on the environment. I knew about this trip, a part of Mexico recently being changed from dense, heavy forest to new construction homes for the wealthy.” A deep breath. “Why are they suspecting kidnapping? And who is they?”

  “I don’t know all the facts it’s not a case we’re handling, but,” he added when she opened her mouth, “I’m here because before this happened I got something in the mail from BB.”

  “He mailed you something?”

  “Yes.”

  Opening his jacket, he withdrew a folded envelope from the inside pocket. Her reluctance to take it was glaringly obvious but eventually her hands with their short, unpolished nails plucked it from his grasp. She stared at the front side and frowned.

  “This is mailed from the States. I’m not following.”

  “I think your brother knew something was going to happen on the trip. I can’t make sense of what he talks about but I have a hunch you’ll know.”

  “Me?” She flipped the envelope over in her hand a few times and shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know why I would know. I don’t really care about the letter. When did he go missing and what is being done to get him back?”

  He struggled to speak the words he had no wish to verbalise. BB was one of his best friends and Zémire—well, suffice it to say since their shared night of ecstasy he’d realised she meant more than he’d believed possible.

  “Cort?” Her tone had an added hint of vulnerability to it, making him fight the urge to reach out, pull her flush to him, and hold her.

  “We—the United States—have no jurisdiction down there. The Mexican government is looking into it.”

  “So there’s no given he was actually kidnapped because there’s been no ransom demand or claim of the act.”

  Her heartbreak could be tasted it was so strong. He nodded at the devastation she voiced.

  “I’m so sorry, Zémire.”

  “Maybe they just went off grid for a while.”

  Her large eyes welled with unshed tears that never fell. In the depths of her gaze he read her attempt to grasp at any shred of hope. He refused to supply false hope. They both knew BB Gibson wasn’t rash like that. She realised that when his silence loomed between them.

  “He’s al
l I have left, Cort.”

  He couldn’t take it. In a single move, he settled beside her on the couch, drew her against him, and leant back. When she resisted, he held tighter and forced her. She may not want to be comforted but he knew she needed it. Before long she relaxed and sank into him, her head against his chest, her arms gripping him.

  Her unique scent filled his nose and he fought down the primal sexual urges she created within him. He buried his nose in her thick, sleek hair, inhaling deeply, eager for the smell to fill him. His eyes were almost closed when the door swung open. He watched as the same man she had been with before stepped through.

  The man froze and stared at them in silence. Cort merely arched a brow, not deigning to correct any misconstrued observation that could be made. He liked the portrayal of the woman in his arms as his. Zémire shifted and saw their visitor.

  She didn’t pull away immediately but after they began conversing in French, she eventually did. Upright and at the other end of the couch, he could only observe and wait. He kept a close eye on Zémire—she continued to hold the message from her brother in one hand. Lines of worry gathered at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her fingers flexed slightly over the envelope, so slightly he doubted the other man noticed. He did.

  The man finally left. Zémire dropped her head and rubbed the palm of one hand on it.

  “Merde!” she spat.

  Cort didn’t speak French, but like most people, he knew the meaning of that word. He pushed up from his seat when he noticed the trembles racking her slender body. Crouching before her, he cupped her chin in one hand and lifted her face so he could stare at her.

  “Zémire?”

  “I…I have to go. I have to finish something up.” She stared at the paper in her hand. “I…need to deal with this too.”

  “Hey,” he murmured stroking a finger along her skin. “We’ll figure it out.”