The Movie Star and the Spy (The Secret Billionaires #5)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

S o he kissed her.

She wouldn’t respond. Nope. Not a chance. No way.

He caressed.

She wasn’t going to react. Wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he affected her. She was a block of ice.

He massaged.

Okay, a melting block of ice, but still, she could do this.

He licked her lips.

Who was she kidding? She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down.

Julian growled in satisfaction as he leaned over her, creating tantalizing pressure along her entire body. He explored tender lips, nipping and probing and creating all sorts of havoc. He was pure hardness, swathed in muscle and power, entirely focused on her .

So he thought he could kiss her senseless and get away with it? She would show him. As he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, deepening the kiss to fantastic proportions, she pushed up his shirt, molding the hardness underneath. She rubbed her fingernails along his skin, as his muscles clenched in response. He would realize he couldn’t wrestle control.

But suddenly he did. He started with her neck, the sensitive spot just under her ear. He flicked his tongue, cooling tingling skin, then pressed closer, trailing kisses down her neck, raining fire to her collarbone. Still, it wasn’t enough. She urged his hand to the bottom of her shirt.

Somewhere deep within her, a warning sounded, yet he’d resumed his kisses, and she couldn’t focus. She sighed as cool air tickled her stomach, as he exposed more and more of her tender body. She shuddered as the shirt was pulled up and over her head, baring breasts covered in only the thinnest red lace. Now he gazed at her with dilated pupils and an expression of pure, unadulterated need. Lust blazed passion and something far stronger. “You are exquisite,” he whispered as he kissed her, eliciting sheer pleasure.

Pure need took over, instinct and desire. The warning grew louder. She needed to stop now, before she lost all control. “I think…”

“Yes?” He gave her another kiss, this one deeper, longer, stretching sensations throughout her body.

Oh, hell. “I think there’s entirely too much clothing between us.”

His eyes darkened to almost black. “What are you saying?”

This had aways been inevitable. Destined almost. She simply couldn’t resist the need firing within her. So she pushed aside logic and reason, barred the future and consequences from the present and clutched at the man who once more stole all. “Make love to me.”

He stilled, watched, contemplated, considered. “Are you certain? I don’t want you to do anything that is uncomfortable.”

How could she ever be uncomfortable with this man? “Please,” she whispered. “I want–” A breath, a shudder and a wish . “Everything.”

He held her gaze for a moment’s whisper, then gave the briefest of nods. He returned to his intimate task, exploring with his lips, hands and body. Just like the first time he undressed her, she was powerless to resist as he unbuttoned her jeans, as he pulled them down and off. It was like the moments she acted as body double, when she thought he was going to fully undress her. Then he had stopped.

This time would be different.

She squirmed as he grasped the thin straps holding her panties, as he slowly pulled them down. Coolness assaulted her as he slipped the undergarments from her feet, leaving her fully exposed. He moved back to look at her, his gaze as searing as any touch. She stilled his movement with a hand on his chest. “This isn’t fair.”

He looked down at his fully clothed body, then smiled. “No, it’s not.” In one quick movement, he reached up and pulled off his shirt, revealing corded muscles and six-pack abs.

Holy sh–

“Are you okay?” he asked wickedly.

“Great.” She licked dry lips. “Just fantastic. I guess this answers the question about whether you use padding.”

Of course, he wouldn’t need it when he was so magnificent. She took his hand and led him to the massive jacquard chaise. He needed no more urging, as he settled her down and sank next to her. Supporting himself with a hand on either side, he leaned over her. “Are you certain?”

In a world where everything else was uncertain, this wasn’t. “I want nothing more.”

Then…

He did.

He touched and teased, fondled and probed. She gasped and moaned, jerked and shivered. The inescapable touches slayed every sense, but she wanted more, needed more. Soon it was time. He paused for the briefest of moments to don protection.

Then they became one.

It had never felt so right, so perfect. It was as if he’d been made just for her, and she for him. She ascended higher and higher until suddenly she could take no more. She screamed, and so did he, as the world shattered into a million pieces. Waves of ecstasy roiled her as she soared through passion’s crests, clutching him, pressed into his heat. Seconds followed, as she finally came down, as a new reality returned. His arms tightened around her, and there she stayed.

And stayed and stayed, far past when she should arise, far beyond when she should start the “This was wrongs” and “This can never happen agains.” All she could do was lie there, content in his arms, where life had never seemed so right.

The beeping startled the woman in his arms, and Julian held her tighter, comforting her, soothing her. If only time would stop, preventing the moment he’d have to relinquish the beauty he’d held as the seconds, and then minutes, passed since their lovemaking. Though she’d jumped with the alarm, she quickly took back control. She liked control, this one, but not as much as he did. And he never wanted control as much as when he was with her.

How could he describe what happened? He couldn’t, not with words at least. Fleeting monikers came to mind – awesome, fantastic, earth-shattering – yet they couldn’t truly describe the lovemaking they had shared, the intimacy. The chemistry was undeniable, the sparks nuclear. Yet, it was more than simple chemistry, more than the long-awaited satisfaction of bone-numbing lust. No, he connected with Destiny in some other way.

He had to explore this force, discover if it could truly lead to something real, something permanent . He’d never imagined finding that once-in-a-lifetime relationship, but if it found him, he’d grab onto it and never let go. Only he had one date left. That might not be enough time, especially with Destiny denying her feelings. An idea formed, and he smiled. Perhaps that date could be extended.

Right now he had this night to enjoy.

“Was that the oven?” A whisper broke the silence, as the lovely form shifted in his arms.

He brushed a kiss on her cheek. Then on her neck. Then on a dozen other places. “The lasagna is ready.”

She stretched, extending that lithe body and giving new life to his arousal. Never before had a woman attracted him so. “I love the sparks we make, but if we don’t get up, we’ll start a fire of an altogether different sort.”

“Actually, I set the oven to turn off automatically.”

Her eyes darkened. “You did?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’ll go into warming mode for as long as we like.”

“Well, then, I guess we might as well–”

He didn’t let her finish the sentence.

“Should we talk about what happened?” he asked a good time later, holding the beautiful siren in his arms. He gave her a soft kiss.

Her answer was short, concise and to the point. “No.”

A stark warning clouded his mind. Was she going to deny what just occurred, the connection that transcended the physical? Even she couldn’t claim this was a fleeting relationship based on simple attraction. “Destiny…” He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “You can’t think that was ordinary.”

She shrugged, but didn’t refute it. She couldn’t, not when their first – and second and third – bouts of lovemaking were so very amazing. “There’s nothing to talk about. We both gave in to lust. It’s as simple as that.”

What they shared was far more than lust. But something was holding her back, something substantial, something powerful, and he was unlikely to get anywhere now. He would give her time, but there was one thing he wouldn’t wait for. He needed to learn more about her.

He would start right away. “Let’s go to dinner.” He shifted, hefting her into his arms. She was so light, it was easy to lift her as he rose from the chaise. He held her close and started toward the doorway.

“What are you doing?” She gasped. “I’m still naked!”

He grinned. “I like you naked.”

She blushed along her entire body. “We can’t go to dinner like this.”

He stopped. “You’re right. It could get dangerous with the cooking.” He placed her down for just a minute, slid on his pants, and then helped her into her panties and bra. He then picked her up and continued along the corridor.

“You forgot something.” She squirmed, which put interesting parts of her body into contact with interesting parts of his body. Judging by the ever-deepening pinkness staining her skin, she noticed.

He certainly did. “You might want to stop squirming if you want to eat today.”

She froze.

Then she squirmed just a little more.

She gave a sheepish look. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. But we need the rest of our clothing. What if someone sees us?”

“There’s no one here. The windows are tinted, and I don’t have any cameras in the house. No one will see you… except me of course.” They reached the kitchen, and he sat her down on the counter, his arms a band around her. He leaned over her, crowding her space. “If I’m too much for you to handle, you can go back and get your clothing.”

She angled her chin, showing that jaunty side he loved so much. “You’re not too much for me to handle. I can handle anything.”

Now that was a challenge. He leaned forward to her lips, stopped and moved down . He kissed the peak of each breast. “Is this too much for you to handle?”

Her skin turned an adorable shade of pink, and she appeared to be debating between fleeing and pushing him down to have her wicked way with him. “I don’t know,” she whispered with unexpected honesty. She gave a soft shudder. “We’ll stay like this. But don’t blame me if you spill lasagna on your ridiculously fit body.”

He laughed. “You’re so different than the woman you pretend to be.”

Secrets and mystery swirled in fathomless eyes. Who was she? He would discover soon enough, as he released her and retrieved a pair of black oven mitts. Extremely careful for his unclothed state, he removed the steaming lasagna, savory and perfect and covered with golden melted cheese and hearty tomato sauce. He dished two white porcelain plates and poured them each a goblet of merlot. After they were seated at the table, Destiny grasped her glass and took a sip. Then she downed it.

Julian held back a laugh. “Coming to terms with what happened?”

She grimaced. “I’ll need another dozen for that.”

“We can’t have that.” He tapped the table. “I want you nice and sober during our date. Well, naughty and sober would be fine, too.”

“If you think I’m doing anything nau… anything else naughty with you, then forget it.”

This time he did laugh. “Just the reaction I’d hoped for.”

“I’m sorry.” Genuine honesty tinted the words. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just I wasn’t… I didn’t…”

“Mean for it to happen,” he offered. “And then again. And well, again.”

Her cheeks pinkened. “No, no and no. I’m sorry. You were a gentleman. I’m just upset at myself.”

With anyone else he would be insulted, yet this delved beyond their relationship, beyond morning after regrets. She had enjoyed it as much as him, proven it when she initiated further intimacies. Why was she so distraught? “It happened, and we can’t just ignore it. Not when it was so extraordinary.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She retrieved her glass and poured herself another drink. “And we can absolutely ignore it.”

She tried to act confident, but she was obviously lying to herself as much as him. He took away the drink. “Have some food first.”

She sighed and picked up her fork. He lifted his own utensil and cut into the lasagna. It was steaming hot and scented of oregano, basil and roasted onions. He liked his food fresh and gave it only a few seconds to cool before taking a bite.

His mouth exploded.

“What the–” Destiny gasped at the same time he snatched his napkin and choked fire out of his mouth. He grabbed his wine and took a gulp, but it wasn’t nearly enough to douse the white-hot pain annihilating his lips and tongue. Destiny was choking and turning red, her eyes bright and watery. He ran to the cabinet and pulled out two bottles of Evian – he held one to his guest’s mouth and gulped his own. When he’d finished, the burning in his mouth had gone from a five-alarm fire to a four, but it still felt like a thousand firecrackers sparking. Destiny sputtered and gasped, but appeared slightly less about to collapse. He led her to the couch, where he stood as she sank down, heaving in deep gasps. He grabbed the two plates of lasagna and tossed them in the sink.

They stayed silent for a few moments, recuperating from the heat. As the pain in his mouth receded to a more ordinary discomfort, Julian finally managed to speak, “Are you okay?”

With a small choke, Destiny nodded. They both looked to the sink. Then he folded his arms over his chest.

The redness returned to her cheeks.

“Is there anything you’d like to say?”

“Probably not.”

“Anything regarding the lasagna and, I don’t know… attempted murder by spice?”

“I’d like to speak to a lawyer.”

“So you’re admitting your guilt?”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. Although-” She paused. “You may have added a bit too much spice.”

He gave a sharp but painful laugh. “Me?”

“That’s right. You’re the one who put in the spices. And obviously too much of that…uh… spice.”

Oh yeah, she knew she was in trouble. By her watery and still shocked eyes, it hadn’t been purposeful. “You’re the one who gave them to me, and none were supposed to be hot. Exactly which spice are you referring to?”

“The hot spice, of course.”

“What’s its name?” He pointed to the cabinet. “Show me.”

She put her hand over her mouth and started shaking. Concern bloomed anew… until he realized what she was doing. “You’re laughing?”

She shook her head, but couldn’t conceal the truth. She’d destroyed the recipe, nearly committed homicide by spice and now she thought it was hysterical. Then he started chuckling, too, and then it deepened until it turned into the heartiest laugh he’d had in years. The mood changed, as if they were old friends connecting on some deep shared joke. It felt… wonderful.

The laughter finally slowed to chuckles, then to wide smiles. When they finally calmed down, he sighed. “You don’t have any idea how to cook, do you?”

“Well…” A grin broke out. “I know slightly less about cooking than I know about Julian Starcroft films. It’s a miracle I didn’t set anything on fire.”

“Yes, you did.” He cradled his jaw. “Our mouths.”

She grinned cheekily. “You may have me there.”

“Is there any part of your resume that’s actually true?”

“Of course.” She ticked off her fingers. “I’m female. My hair is blond, and my eyes are green. And I’m five-foot-four.”

He looked her up and down. “My sister is five-foot-four. There’s no way you’re that tall.”

“I rounded up.”

“By three inches?”

She sniffed. “Everything else is true.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “So you really are an elite ice skater. Would you like to go to the rink and show me your triple axel?”

She paled, but quickly recovered. “I would, but my ankle’s been a little sore. Wouldn’t want to push it.”

“Your ankle looks just fine to me. But anyway, there’s nothing on your resume about ice skating.” She glared, but he just shrugged. “Did you even read your resume before you created it on an AI generator? I’ve heard of people inflating their experience, but usually they remember its contents.”

“Of course, I read it. I mean no, I didn’t copy it,” she growled. “I know its contents, and I know I’m not an ice skater. I was just joking.”

No, she wasn’t – she’d truly forgotten. Who was the real Destiny Dane?

She certainly wasn’t an ice skater.

Or a chef.

Maybe not even an actress.

“I should be heading out.”

He started at the unexpected comment. And immediately rejected it. “Do you think you’re getting out of the date early just because you tried to kill me? There’s still dessert.”

Her lashes fluttered rapidly. “You can’t possibly want me to cook again.”

He looked up and down that beautiful body, breathed in the intoxicating aroma of woman and sugar. “I know a dessert where no cooking is involved.” Without breaking her gaze, he strode to the refrigerator and retrieved a bowl of whipped cream. He closed the fridge, removed the cover and approached his delectable houseguest, as her cheeks flushed bright pink. “I’m hungry for something sweet. Can you think of anything suitable?”

She bit that saucy lip, as her mouth formed a little O. Her eyes darkened with desire.

He dipped a finger and tasted the sweet concoction. “Of course, whipped cream isn’t enough. I figured we’d bake something to go with it, but I’m not sure how jalape?o pepper tastes with vanilla.”

She didn’t respond to his jab, instead licked her lips. Now it was his turn to feel the sensual heat while she explored. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, since you can’t bake dessert, how about if you are dessert?”

She gasped. Then…

She smiled.

“I have a better idea.” She grasped the cool bowl. “How about if you are dessert? Isn’t that the fantasy of every woman in America?”

Right now he didn’t care about any woman except the sassy, beautiful and sexy female before him. “But it’s only fair that you offer dessert. Since you ruined the lasagna and all.”

She shrugged, offering a tantalizing taste of sweet vixen. “I still maintain it’s your fault.”

Sexual energy sizzled, charging his senses. “I tell you what,” he drawled. “Why don’t we do this fairly? We’ll take turns.”

“This is such a bad idea,” she murmured. Yet she dipped her finger in the bowl, tracing whipped cream down his torso, smoothing the cool dessert over his muscles. She started at his neck, then lower and lower, running out just at his waist. He stood perfectly still as she leaned in, barely kept control when a little pink tongue lashed out to lap up the cream. As she continued her journey downward, the scent of gardenias surrounded him, and he growled, fighting to restrain himself from hauling her against him and kissing those luscious lips.

She finished licking up the cream. “Oops.” She bit her lip innocently, but her eyes sparkled. “I guess I didn’t go far enough.” She took another scoop of whipped cream.

And that’s when he learned…

Sometimes control was overrated.

Cheyenne tossed her purse on the table, cringing when its contents rolled out onto the faux wood floor. She’d get them later. Right now, she needed a nap before work started in a few hours.

That’s right, a few hours.

She’d accomplished many things in the last forty-eight hours, but sleep hadn’t been one of them. Sure, she’d gotten a few minutes here and there, in between lovemaking sessions and heartfelt conversations. They seemed to slip in between them, mutually unable to keep their hands off each other. They had spoken about anything and everything under the starlit nights – everything, that was, except for her true identity, although not for lack of trying on his part. His suspicions were obvious, his reservations valid, as if he knew her resume belonged in the fiction section. Would he investigate on his own?

Meals had been haphazard, too. Pizza delivery the night of the ruined lasagna and then a parade of takeout and leftovers the rest of the weekend. Now she plopped on her bed, much harder than the softness of Julian’s luxurious mattress, and placed a hand on her head. She’d spent the rest of the weekend with him, leaving only enough time for half a night’s sleep before the work week began.

This was ridiculous.

She may not have broken department regulations – only because Julian was never a target in the criminal ring – but the relationship was definitely detrimental to the investigation, the case and her sanity in general. The more she focused on him, the less she could concentrate on finding the criminal. The more he focused on her, the less attractive she would be to anyone looking for an easy target. She’d known that going into the date on Friday. So what happened?

He happened. It was like sitting in front of a three-scoop ice cream sundae, complete with caramel, whipped cream, hot fudge and cherries (all of which played a part during the weekend) and trying not to eat it. Julian was her ice cream sundae, and she was simply not strong enough to resist him.

Which was positively ridiculous.

The worst part was that it was more than physical attraction – far more. As much as she loved his creativity in pleasuring her, she enjoyed their conversations just as much. They talked for hours about so many things. Like a cliché, they eagerly finished each other’s sentences, with similar opinions and judgements, likes and dislikes. How she managed to keep her secret, she didn’t know, especially when he tried to expose her (in more ways than one) every chance he got. She’d managed not to blow her cover, but for how long? Hopefully she hadn’t missed anything.

Was she falling for him? She couldn’t be, not after what happened to her family. She understood actors. They were charming and perfect one minute and would vanish the next. It was simply in their nature.

Yet somehow a date that was supposed to last a couple of hours progressed through a night, then another day, another night and still another day. Every time she brought up the subject of leaving he managed to… distract… her. And she liked distraction a little too much.

Well, no more. They would go on one more date, but that would be it. It would not be a marathon, and there would be absolutely no whipped cream. Definitely no cherries and certainly no caramel. She closed her eyes and fought for sleep. Then she dreamed of…

Ice cream sundaes.