When Stars Collide

by Aliyah Burke

  “Drive carefully, sweetheart,” he said, clenching his fingers so he didn’t grab her.

  She didn’t say another word, just moved to the driver’s door and climbed in. Cort didn’t move until the blue Honda Ridgeline turned a corner and slid from view. Only then did he head for his truck and climb in. He had his phone on speaker, music very low as he waited for his call to be connected. He’d exited the parking lot before the other end got picked up.

  “Director Wills’ office.” Sarah’s voice filled his cab.

  He smiled and shifted to a higher gear. “Mornin’, darlin’. Is he available to talk?”

  “Sure thing. Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

  “I am. Miss me?”

  She laughed. “Of course. But since you didn’t call to talk to me, I’ll send you through.”

  “Thanks, Sarah.” He got put on hold.

  “What’s up?” Gene spoke, his tone a bit stressed.

  “Catch you at a bad time?”

  “Just…no, everything’s fine.” Papers shuffled. “What’s up?”

  Cort gave a brief rundown of events surrounding BB and also Zémire. A short silence before he cleared his throat. “This Agent Jimenez was asking Z…Ms. Gibson about Morrioe. I don’t know why.”

  Gene cursed and said, “I’ll check into it. I don’t care if he is FBI, you don’t use a man like that.” A few more scuffles sounded. “Look, I’ll see what I can find out and get back to you.”

  Finally on the highway, he accelerated and headed for home. “Thanks.” One finger ended the call.

  At the house he caught his parents up to speed over a meal then went out with his dad to repair fences. His thoughts remained on Zémire all through dinner. It wasn’t until dessert that his mom caught him.

  “You free later, Cort?” she asked.

  “Umm…what’d you need?”

  “A few of us were going to have a game night. Wondered if you wanted to join us.”

  There was one thing on his mind. Zémire. He ate a bite of the chocolate pie before answering. “Sorry, Mom, but I think I’ll pass.”

  “Hmm…Okay. Zémire’s coming—thought you’d maybe be more fun for her to talk to.”

  “No, I’m supposed to see her…” he trailed off. “She is?” he asked, in a desperate attempt to cover up his mistake.

  His mom had a huge grin on her face. “Nope. But you be sure to take her some pie when you go over to her tonight.”

  “I never—” He closed his mouth when she waved a hand.

  “Don’t bother, Cortland. You can’t fool me—either of us actually.”

  “And?” he asked.

  His mom rewarded him with a larger smile. “I think y’all will give me beautiful grandbabies.”

  “Ring first,” his father added.

  A ring. Marriage. Kids. All with Zémire. A lovely prospect.

  “I don’t…it’s…” He dropped his fork and groaned.

  “Thalia, give us a second, will you?”

  His mom slipped away and his dad stared at the coffee in his mug before leaning back and watching him. Cort waited.

  “The words will come when the time’s right, son. I know you’re used to being in charge, so when you ask, try not to make it an order.”

  A wry smile lifted his lips. “I’ll do my best.” On his feet, Cort gathered the dishes and carried them to the sink to rinse. His dad’s laughter followed him. He longed to go right now but his upbringing dictated he help clear the table. His dad was gone when he returned to the dining room.

  Soon he strode for the front door, Stetson in hand, ready to be with Zémire. He opened the door and stepped through, only to draw up short. His parents stood out there, bathed in the mixture of light from the porch light and the moon. In his mom’s hand she held a container with handles, no doubt containing pie. His dad held the reins of his stallion, Wild Card.

  “Nice night for a ride,” Bernard said, offering the reins.

  “It sure is,” he replied, plunking his hat down on his head.

  Reins in hand, he vaulted up on Wild Card and settled easily into the saddle. Silent, he took the item his mom offered and with a tug of his hat, he manoeuvred his large Paint off into the cool, dark night. Wild Card easily covered the distance with his ground-eating lope.

  Half an hour later, he sighed with contentment as BB’s house and barn came into view. Only a few moments now and Zémire would be where he wanted her, in his arms.

  The back door of the barn was open and he could see the yellow light streaming from it, Wild Card on a direct heading for it. He slowed him a bit when Zémire came into view and propped herself against the open door.

  Hungrily, he took in her outfit. A pale pink crossover bandeau cami hugged her upper torso. Sapphire blue capris conformed to her lower body, and she had on white canvas shoes. Her inky black hair fell in soft waves around her face.

  “Whoa,” he mumbled to Wild Card. His stallion paused outside the door and Cort tipped his hat to her. “Ma’am.” Her eyes twinkled but she remained mute. He handed her the container and read the question in her gaze. “Mom’s chocolate pie.” She smiled, and his heart seized. “Come with me,” he said, reaching towards her with one hand.

  Chapter Nine

  Zémire tried unsuccessfully to be unimpressed with the man who’d ridden up from the night. Cortland Kysenzki may very well be a federal agent but in his blood pumped the DNA of a true cowboy. The way he rode Wild Card was enough for her to get wet.

  Without thinking about the ramifications, she placed the container down, stepped forward and placed her hand in his outstretched one. Her heart pounded harder when his callused palm touched hers. With considerable ease, he lifted her up to sit before him on the saddle.

  She snuggled back against him, hooking her arms tight over where his lay upon her midsection. The raw masculine scent of Cort surrounded her. It was combined with leather and horse, making a very compelling smell. One that made her think of sexual promises and security.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Somewhere we can be alone.”

  “We were alone at the barn.”

  His chest moved with his laughter. “Just enjoy the ride, Zémire,” he growled with mock severity.

  Closing her eyes, she did just that. Wild Card had a very easy gait and her added weight didn’t bother the large equine. They rode in silence and when he stopped, she opened her eyes. He’d halted them along a small creek that ran through her brother’s property.

  Cort lifted her down, before he dismounted with the ease of a man who’d been riding his whole life. Then he removed a bedroll she’d not noticed, and dropped the reins to the ground. Once the bedding was down, he came close and stood before her. His horse wandered off a little, happily grazing on the lush grass.

  “Zémire,” he murmured in a gentle, yet odd tone.

  His large hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking along her cheekbones. Her insides were a complete mess. Explosive heat churned up from deep within and she knew only this man could both create and extinguish such passion within her.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “A hell of a lot.”

  He kissed her. Almost hesitant was the first touch. Light, feather light, but the contact existed. She sighed and pressed into him, hands slipping up the well-worn denim of his shirt. Over the defined abdominals, hard pectorals, and wide shoulders she moved.

  He took his time exploring her. Not allowing her to rush him or set the pace. Cort nibbled on her lower lip while he captured her hands in his and manoeuvred them behind her back. The act pushed her chest into his even more.

  “My pace, Zémire. Let me enjoy you at my pace,” he whispered, before lowering her back to the waiting bedroll.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she should insist on talking. Really, you want to stop his magical touch? Her brain questioned as Cort disposed of her capris and panties. Want? No, but I should, her rational side arg
ued as she tried one more attempt at clarity. All of which went up in a puff of smoke the second thick fingers trailed over her needy slit.

  “Shit!” she cried, arching against the tempting digits. “Don’t tease me.” Her voice came out in short pants.

  “Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured against her neck, his tongue dipped below the straps of her shirt.

  Lights flickered behind her eyes as his touch continued to enflame her body and soul. She squirmed helplessly beneath him, unsure of how to get what she wanted from him. Thoughts and feelings were all jumbled making it nearly impossible to formulate a sentence.

  “Uh…oh…ahhh…damn it…Cort…”

  Somehow he’d got her shirt untied and down around her waist. Almost totally naked, she lay there exposed to his probing gaze and the moonlight. She reached for him and sighed in contentment when she came into contact with warm skin stretched taut over well-defined muscles. The feel of him beneath her fingertips was more than she had dreamt.

  How and when he’d removed his clothing she hadn’t a clue. But the moment he settled between her thighs all that mattered was he had. She gasped as the large head of his cock prodded her before he filled her. Slow and constant, stretching and satisfying her.

  Her mewl of pleasure was echoed by another. Cort’s deeper groan reverberated in her ears. No words were exchanged as he began to move with slow, deliberate strokes. He nibbled along the bared expanse of her neck, alternating with laves of his tongue and nips of his teeth. Fire curled up from her feet to engulf her whole being. Fingers dug into muscled shoulders as she moved with him. Undulating, rolling, and arching her hips to take all he gave.

  It was slow. It was erotic, lying with him under the moon and stars. Just like our first time. It’s only fitting our last should be that way also. The thought saddened her but faded quickly with his next stroke.

  In and out. Constant. Never-ending like the tide. Slipping her arms under his and around his back, she squeezed her eyes shut and lost herself to Cort’s magical touch. When her body burned, aching for release, and she didn’t think she could take anymore, Cort sent her over.

  He nipped her ear. “Let go, sweetheart. Come with me. Cover my cock with your sweet cream.”

  That did it—she exploded, screaming into the night as untold sensations flooded her. So far gone was she that her second orgasm, triggered by his eruption, caught her by surprise and sent her floating into an abyss of incredible pleasure.

  Cort lowered his sweaty body to hers and she tightened her hold on him, suddenly desperate to keep him close. Traitorous tears pricked at the backs of her eyes and she struggled to hold them at bay.

  Why did things have to be so cruel?

  “You okay?” he asked against the quick pulse in her neck.

  Biting her lower lip, she inhaled deeply and allowed the rugged scent of Cort, his sweat, and the culmination of her passion to flow through. “Yes,” she said in a soft tone, ignoring the breaking of her heart.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, pulling out of her still needy body.

  She didn’t respond, just reassembled her clothing. Regardless of her inner turmoil, Zémire went willingly when he urged her back down to curl up beside him. He’d put his pants on but his shirt remained absent. Settling her head on his shoulder, she traced idle patterns on his torso, one leg slung over his. The steady beat of his heart. The soothing rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulled her almost to sleep.

  All her energy had been poured into concern and wondering about her brother. Now BB was not only found but back home, she was more than ready to give in to the exhaustion knocking…pounding at her door.

  “Zémire?”

  She blinked. “Huh?”

  His lips brushed her forehead. “Did you hear me?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “I wanted to know what happened with Jimenez asking about my partner.”

  “Your partner? Who’s your partner?”

  “Trent Morrioe.”

  One of the men Jimenez mentioned. “I don’t know, he asked me if I knew him and two others. When I said no, he asked me if I knew you and how well.”

  Cort tensed. “He asked about me too?”

  “Yes. Look, I have no clue what’s going on. As far as I can tell, it’s nothing more than a pissing match between agencies.”

  He ran a hand up and down her arm. “Okay. Okay.”

  She wasn’t fooled. Cort wasn’t the kind of man to let that go so easily. But she did. For her, the most important thing had been resolved. Her brother was back.

  You need to tell him you’re leaving, her brain interjected.

  Should she? Could she? Would she?

  The comment hovered on the tip of her tongue but she never let it go. Better to go as she’d arrived, quietly and without fanfare. She wanted to enjoy this last bit of time with Cort. I’d love for it not to end, but I have to be logical.

  “Why the sorrow, sweetheart?”

  How he seemed so aware of her moods always amazed her. It gave the impression they’d been together much longer than they had. Or he’s just more in tune with you and your susceptibilities than you thought, her heart chided.

  Perhaps, she conceded to the part of her that wanted forever with the man who’d ruled her dreams since she was a teen. Back before Cort had morphed into the incredible man she currently lay with. When he’d been one who showed promise of becoming the man he was today.

  Can’t tell him that though. So she did the only thing she could. Lie. Only by technicality, for this other caused sorrow in her as well.

  “I’m worried about BB.” She took a deep breath, all focussed on her brother and not on what she was soon to be leaving. Or who. “There’s this look he gets when he doesn’t know I’m watching.” Throat tightening, she choked back her worry. “He’s a shell of the man I remember my brother to be.”

  Cort’s arms contracted around her in a comforting squeeze. “He needs some more time, Zémire. He’s been through hell.” He kissed her temple. “Allow him some time to adjust. He’s not going to be the same man, sweetheart. Don’t expect him to be. He’s still your brother and his love for you hasn’t diminished, but I don’t want you expecting the same, jovial BB. Perhaps a ways down the road but not right now.”

  She wanted him the same. The loveable prankster who never minded if she called at all hours of the night, all that mattered was she had called. His megawatt smile, which was only amplified by the sparkle in his eyes, was now forever changed. The slice on his face, the one that stole one of his eyes, had altered his mouth.

  To her, none of it mattered, not the mangled and deformed fingers that would never be straight again. Not the numerous scars or even the eye patch and mark on his face. It didn’t matter. To her. But her brother wasn’t her.

  “I don’t know how to help him without making him feel like I am babying him because I don’t think he can do anything for himself.” Another fortifying breath. “He’s always been the strong one, I don’t know if I am.”

  He spoke low but there was no disguising the conviction in his tone. “Zémire, you are strong and your brother is very lucky to have you in his corner. You don’t need to do any more than you are. You’re there for him. That means the world to him.”

  She wasn’t as convinced. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” He kissed her before adding, “I mean you took on federal agents for him. Bloodying the nose and blacking the eye of one.” A slight chuckle emerged.

  “Can we not mention that?” It mortified her to know Cort had seen her lose her cool like that.

  “Why? He deserved it. And I have to tell you, Zémire, you looked fucking hot squaring off with Jimenez.”

  His statement made her belly clench with need and a blush skate along already fevered skin. “Thank you.”

  Cort rolled so she lay on her back and he on his side, propped up on one elbow. He stared at her in the moonlight and gathered some hair in his fingers to play with.

  “Than
ks for what? I meant every word.”

  “Not telling BB I was the one who hit Agent Jimenez.”

  His teeth flashed briefly. “You know I’d do anything for you, Zémire.”

  The mood became much more serious with that statement. If only I could believe that.

  “Well, that was more than enough,” she lied. Tell me you want to be with me for the rest of our lives. Tell me you’re not letting me leave! Tell me you love me like I love you.

  “You should give into that passion that lurks beneath the calm, perfectly poised exterior.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Although, I won’t complain if you only share it with me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Our parents raised us to be cool and collected at all times. I’m so embarrassed by my actions.”

  His chuckle filled the cool Texas night. “You’re human, sweetheart. You’re allowed to not be so perfect all the time.”

  “Thanks,” she quipped sarcastically.

  “Don’t be mad, I’m just saying it was nice to see there’s stuff that gets to you.”

  Plenty of stuff gets to me.

  She opened her mouth to speak only to find her comment muffled by his kiss. It didn’t take long for all her focus to be on the man whose lips turned her to putty. Nothing else mattered, not other than him. Nothing but him and the here and now.

  A few hours later, sexually sated and exhausted, she reclined against Cort as he guided Wild Card back to the barn.

  Remaining out there, they shared the piece of pie he’d brought. When she finished and slid off the bench table, her attention was on his horse.

  “What’s going on, Zémire?” he asked.

  “I’m just thinking I need to get inside and check on BB.” She never pulled her gaze from the equine, just stared at him, one hand stroking his broad head.

  “Look at me.” Soft the words came, but it didn’t negate the command they were.

  Tossing her hair, she glanced over her shoulder. Cort rested against the bench, booted feet hooked at his ankles, pulling moulded jeans even tighter around powerful thighs. A throb of want hit her and her pussy pulsed with anticipation.