Page 33 of Star Rucked Lovers

“Yeah,” he said, squeezing her hand lightly. “Yeah, it does.”

Chapter Eleven

George huffed out abreath as he let the feel of holding Myst’s hand again sink into him, his lips quirking into a faint, self-deprecating smile. “This is ridiculous, you know. I mean, look at us. You’re this… superstar!” He gestured vaguely at her with his free hand. “With a million people screaming your name every night, and I’m just some bloke who chases an oval ball around a field for a living.”

“Just some bloke?” Myst raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into the barest hint of a smile. “You’rethebloke, George Dennis. Captain of your country. Australian Player of the Year. Pretty sure you’ve got a decent number of people screaming your name too.”

“Not quite the same,” George said, shaking his head. “No one’s writing stories about what I’m wearing to training or speculating about who I’m dating.” His smile faded slightly, his gaze dropping from hers. “And no one’s tearing apart everything I care about just because it doesn’t fit their idea of how my life should look.”

“George…” Myst gripped his hand. “I don’t care what they say. Not the tabloids, not my PR team, not anyone. You’re the one I want to be with.You. Not the guy they think you are, not the version of you they might write about someday. Just you.”

Her words hit him like a shove to the chest, knocking something loose inside him that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding onto. He met her gaze, his throat tightening. “You say that now, but what happens when the headlines get worse? When being with me makes things harder for you?”

“Let them,” she said fiercely, her small frame practically vibrating with determination. “I’ve spent years letting other people dictate how I live, always trying to strike this impossible balance between being myself and being what they want me to be. But I can’t do that anymore, not when it comes to you. I won’t.”

“Bloody hell, Myst.” George ran a hand through his hair, scrubbing at the back of his neck as if he could ease the tension building there. “You deserve better than this, better than me. Someone who doesn’t come with all this baggage.”

“Stop it.” She reached out, her fingers curling gently around his wrist, grounding him. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve, George. That’s my choice, and I choose you. Complicated, messy,perfect… you.”

For a moment, he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. All he could do was stare at her, this tiny, brilliant force of nature who had somehow chosen him despite all the reasons she shouldn’t. And then, slowly, he brought his free hand up to cover hers, his grip firm but careful, as though she might slip away if he held on too tightly.

“Alright,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “But I need to do better. For you, for us. I’ll work on it. The jealousy, the insecurities… all of it. I’ll figure it out. Even if it means stepping out of my comfort zone.”

“Good,” she said simply, her smile softening. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”

“Never,” he murmured, his heart thundering in his chest as he leaned forward, closing the space between them. Their foreheads touched first, the contact delicate yet electric, and then his lips were on hers, tentative at first but quickly deepening as the weight of the past weeks melted away.

In that moment, nothing else mattered, not the tabloids, not the schedules, not the impossibly high stakes of their lives. It was just them, tangled together in a quiet garden in Toulouse, choosing each other despite the chaos swirling around them.

George wasn’t entirely sure how they’d made it back inside. One moment, they were in the garden, her lips soft and insistent against his, her small hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt as though she could pull him closer just by sheer will. The next, he found himself stumbling backward through the hallway of Tommy’s house, Myst’s laugh spilling into the quiet air like music played just for him.

“Careful,” she teased as his shoulder bumped against the doorframe, her voice carrying that lilting melody that always managed to undo him. Her fingers curled around the collar of his shirt, tugging him down for another kiss before he could find a response. Not that he minded, words seemed wholly unnecessary when she was this close, her presence filling every corner of his focus.

“Your fault,” he muttered between kisses, his own hands finding the curve of her waist, fitting there like they belonged. “You’re distracting.”

“Good,” she murmured against his mouth, her breath warm and sweet as her fingers tangled in the short hairs at the back of his neck. “I’m aiming for completely irresistible.”

“Mission accomplished,” George said, his voice low and unsteady, before he finally managed to maneuver them up the stairs and through the doorway to his room. His hand fumbled behind him to push the door shut, and then they were alone again, the world outside retreating to some far-off place neither of them cared to think about.

Myst was on him in an instant, her arms looping around his neck as she pressed herself flush against him. He bent slightly to meet her height, his larger frame enveloping her delicate one, a contrast that somehow felt as natural as breathing. The scent of her, something floral with just a hint of spice, wrapped around him, intoxicating, grounding.

“Still think we’re too different?” she asked softly, her lips brushing the corner of his mouth, teasing.

“Not here,” George replied, his grin breaking through as his hands slid up her sides, his thumbs grazing the edge of her ribs. “Never here.” He dipped his head closer, his lips almost on hers again before he paused, his voice shifting into something lighter, teasing now. “Actually, I don’t think we’ve ever had any differences here. Might be the only place we’ve always agreed.”

Myst pulled back just enough to look at him, her pale blue eyes sparkling with amusement, her lips curving into a smile that was both mischievous and utterly disarming. “Oh, is that right?” she asked, tilting her head in mock consideration. “Well, at least we’ll always have this, huh?” And before he could come up with a clever retort, she tugged him forward with surprising strength, pulling him down onto the bed with her.

His laughter rumbled low and unrestrained as they landed in a tangled heap of limbs. “You’re trouble,” he said, but the grin splitting his face betrayed how little he meant it.

“Maybe,” Myst admitted, her voice softer now, her teasing replaced by something warmer, deeper. She reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw as her expression softened. “But you seem to handle me just fine, George Dennis.”

“More than fine,” he whispered back, leaning down until there was no space left between them.

It felt different, this time, as he undressed her, taking his time and kissing every inch of skin he exposed. Almost like the first time between them all over again, but without the awkwardness, the fear of getting things wrong. Full of wonder and tenderness and passion… like a fresh start, George thought, at least until Myst lost her patience with him going so slowly and wrapped her legs around his waist, dragging him down to her, and then he had no brainpower left for any thoughts at all.

George’s fingers traced lazy patterns along Myst’s back, the tips of them barely skimming over her skin like he was memorizing every curve, every dip. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow and onto his chest, a cascade of waves tangled from where his hands had been gripping it not so long ago. The room hummed with the kind of quiet that didn’t need filling, their breaths slow, their bodies still pressed close, fitting together like they were made for this exact moment.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Myst murmured, her voice muffled against his collarbone but warm with amusement.

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