A Billionaire for Christmas (13 page)

“Shelly, my Shelly.” He pulled back, his lips finding her breast and pulling the tight nipple into his mouth.

Her back bowed with pleasure. He thrust into her molten core again, and her legs wrapped around his back. Her hand clutched his shoulders. Never enough, being with Anthony was a pleasure she could never get enough of.

He slipped her nipple from his mouth and again thrust deep and hard. She neared climax. His gaze remained locked to hers, pleaded with her not to look away. Thrust after thrust, she clenched her muscles tightly around him, barely hanging on, dancing on the edge.

“Anthony, I’m going to—”

“Come for me Shelly, angel, come for me now.”

A shriek tore from her lips and Anthony’s body stilled to stone. Then with a deep hard thrust and a low growl, he sent them over the edge together.

*

Anthony’s eyes opened and his bed was warm. Shelly nestled beside him, curled like a kitten at his side. He rolled over, stroked his hand over her back, and cupped her ass. How long had he slept? The sky was black and blanketed with stars. Not long. Too long. Every moment with Shelly, every recovered second, was pleasure.

He pressed his lips to hers and her body responded with a long, nearly feline stretch. Her mouth opened and a tiny moan escaped over her lips. Her eyelids fluttered open and through the darkness their eyes met.

His heart nearly leapt from his chest. Her breasts pressed to him and her hips rolled forward and back. He slid his hand between their bodies. She was already wet. He slipped two fingers deep into her.

Yes, God, this was what he wanted. He wanted this every day, every night, and for the rest of his life. His Shelly. To bury himself inside her, to leave behind the stress of his world, to tear down the hard cold wall he’d hidden his heart behind. But only for her, only with her. To fuck away the unpleasant memories of their past, both together and apart. He drew her nipple into his mouth and her back arched. Another soft moan. His fingers thrust in and out of her wet core. He slipped the tip of his finger to her clit. She was engorged, wet with desire. Her low moan turned more insistent and her hips circled against him, pressing into his erect shaft.

“I want you,” she whispered. Desire made her words impatient. He rolled to his left and pulled a foil package from his nightstand. Her eyes never left him as he unrolled the condom onto his cock. Her breasts, perfect round porcelain flesh, moved up and down with her shortened breaths.

Heat simmered between them, their hearts forever linked. Their journey together had begun again, the journey of two people who were never meant to be apart..

Anthony rolled to his back and gently lifted Shelly so she straddled him, her knees pressing to the mattress on either side of his body. Glorious. Glorious Shelly. His hands stroked down the sides of her body, over her ribs to her waist, the belly she’d forever complained about but he had always loved, her rounded hips, then over her mound where his thumbs parted the lips of her flesh. He slowly and insistently rubbed his fingertip over her clit.

“Anthony,” she panted. Her head fell back and her hand grasped her nipple, pulling it.

Gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous. Glory, this was glory to be with Shelly again. She reached for him, pulling his cock away from his belly and positioning his shaft with the tip at her entrance. His every muscle tightened in restraint, the urge to thrust upward and spear her to him nearly impossible to rein in.

Her head tilted forward and she leaned forward, a sultry gleam in her eye, her breasts brushing his lips. He pulled a taut nipple into his mouth and sucked hard against the firm flesh, nipping her with his teeth.

“Shelly, angel, you’re killing me,” he rasped out around the bud in his mouth.

Her smile remained and she slowly, impossibly slowly, lowered herself onto his cock. A horribly slow motion. His balls tightened and heat surged through his body. He felt like a seventeen-year-old boy again. He’d just come earlier and yet…and yet…he could barely restrain himself.

Gradually she descended, one hand on his chest, her perfect rosebud lips registering the pleasure of each inch.

“Shelly, yes baby, oh my God, you feel so good.”

Her velvet enveloped him, the warmth of her pussy tight around his shaft. She settled onto him. Her muscles closed and released and tightened around him. She lifted up ever so slowly again, her lips parted, her breathing in fast desperate pants. At the apex, with the tip of him barely inside her, she paused, then thrust down onto him in one motion.

She took all of him. Deep into her core. She sat astride him, her hips grinding into his. His fingertip again pressed her pleasure spot. His need to grasp her, to pull her up and down and up and down against his throbbing cock, was desperate, and yet, the desire to witness her pleasure, to satisfy her need, held him back.

She pulled her body upward, sliding away from him, and then with another sudden thrust again fully encased his cock. Gliding over him, her lips found his. His mouth opened, his tongue probing deep into her mouth. Shelly’s hands clasped his shoulders and she rode him, the tiny moans from her lips growing louder and louder, her shrieks pulling him to the very edge.

The pleasure drove him out of his mind. Her long blonde hair danced in the moonlight with every stroke of her body.

“Feels good,” she whispered.

He thrust up to meet her as she pushed down. Again and again and gain. Heat clutched his balls. A tingle deep in his spine warned him he didn’t have long.

“I want you on top,” she whispered.

With a force close to madness he wrapped his arms around her and flipped her onto her back. Yes, my God, yes. Above her now, he lifted her legs and placed her knees over his shoulders.

“Shelly, my beautiful Shelly.” He drove deep into her. His gaze never left her face. Her eyes were filled with love, with desire. Her nails dug into his arms.

“Tony,” she wailed.

He thrust and pulled back, with each stroke proving to her, to himself, to all, that this woman, Shelly, was his.

“Anthony, I’m going to come,” she moaned.

Heat tore through his balls and down his shaft as he whispered her name.

Her hands clasped the steaming mug. In the bright light of morning, Shelly had no regrets. Regrets would be for later, after Christmas, when she had to return to San Francisco, when she and Anthony had to say good-bye, when he realized that she couldn’t be the type of girl he needed. He stood shirtless beside the stove. How long had it been since she’d sat and had a morning after with a man? How long since she’d truly made love to a man? The last time had been with this man, Anthony, years before and what seemed like a lifetime ago.

She lifted the coffee to her lips and the scent of cinnamon greeted her. The smell of pancakes and bacon infused the room and her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t been this hungry in what felt like forever.

“For you and for me.” He turned and set a plate in front of her, settling beside her with his own at the kitchen island. His eyes crinkled and a smile beamed from his face. Seeing Anthony happy gave her joy. “Fair warning—my cooking hasn’t improved since the last time I made a meal for you.”

“You were always a good cook. I remember a chicken piccata that was to die for.”

“I haven’t made that in years.” He put a gargantuan bite of pancake into his mouth.

“See you still eat like a Travati.” She speared her own bite of pancake.

“With gusto and exuberance. When I was a kid, if you didn’t eat fast somebody would steal your food.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“That isn’t true. I ate at your house. Your ma had enough food to feed an army.”

“She needed enough food to feed an army with us four.”

“Most days five, and sometimes six.”

“I loved it when there was six,” Anthony said. “Felt right when you and Vinnie were there. Always did.”

She nodded. Yeah, she’d always felt welcome in the Travati home, like their place was an extension of Nonna’s. Even after she and Anthony started dating, Mrs. Travati continued to treat her like a daughter. Included Shelly in all the family events and meals.

“Ma loved you like her own,” Anthony said, as though he could read her mind. “Thought you were a tough cookie who could keep me happy, well fed, and on the right path.”

“Seems you’ve done pretty well without me around.”

Anthony looked up from his plate at her. “Is that how it seems? Because I don’t think I’ve done very well at all.”

Her eyes surveyed his kitchen, which was bigger than Nonna’s entire house.

“This?” He followed her gaze. He covered her hand with his own. “This isn’t doing well, this is money. This is from work. This has nothing to do with leading a full life. The kind of life I always wanted with you.” His fingers curled around her hand and squeezed.

Her belly tightened. Deep breath. Yeah, maybe once upon a time that life had been possible for them. But not now, not after the life she’d led and the things she’d done. While she might forgive herself for the past, how could Anthony forgive her? How could he ever want her to share his life and be the mother of his children if he knew all the sad details of what she’d done? She slipped her hand from his, lifted her plate, and carried it to the sink.

“Where’s your Christmas tree?” she asked. Wanting to change the subject, needing to get away from a conversation that would surely end this holiday fling.

“Over there.” He nodded toward the long kitchen table near the wall of windows.

“This?” She walked to the table. A tiny six-inch evergreen plant adorned with one red ball and one gold ball sat in the center of the table. “That’s no tree, Tony, that’s a plant.” She lifted her eyebrow. “Do you remember your ma’s house?”

He shook his head. “My God, they could see it from outer space. Ma couldn’t get enough lights on the house. Took Dad a month to get all the decorations up and then all of January to take them down.”

“Exactly. And that was just the outside. You remember the inside?”

A laugh burst from his mouth. “That and the god-awful Christmas sweaters. How many cards did she send with the four of us dressed up in those horrible things?”

“Mrs. Travati would be very disappointed if this is what you’re calling a tree and it’s the only decoration in the place.”

Anthony walked to her and took both her hands. He tilted his head so that his forehead pressed to hers. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint Ma, now would we?”

“Nope. Never a good idea.”

“Well, then,” Anthony said, “it seems we have some shopping to do.”

*

Anthony never played hooky from work. He didn’t take sick days, because he was rarely ill, and he didn’t skip out because there was very little in his life, other than work, that demanded his attention. Except when he’d gone to Texas to find Shelly, and now, when he was traipsing through the mucky streets of Manhattan with the wind rushing through the skyscraper canyons, looking for the last tree on the island.

“I like this one.” Shelly circled a Douglas fir. The manager of the lot, a guy from Jersey, yammered on about the finer points of her selection. “What do you think?” she asked Anthony, cocking her head and smiling. The sparkle in her eyes nearly sent him to his knees. He’d give her whatever she wanted for the rest of her life, was what he thought.

“You want the tree, it’s yours.”

The Jersey guy stopped yammering. Not the best statement to make before one even began a negotiation, but Anthony didn’t care. The tree was hers. As was anything he owned, anything she wanted, anything for Shelly. He’d felt like this when they were together before, and he’d tried to fight this damned pull she had over his heart when she’d first returned, but hell, he wasn’t stupid enough now to believe it was a battle he could win.

He shelled out the guy’s asking price, gave him the address of his apartment, and texted his doorman. To be delivered within two hours. With a nice fat tip to round out the transaction, they were off.

“Next up, presents,” he said, winding his arm around her waist. “I’ve been quite the scrooge, and I have some people to suck up to. Care to join me?”

“I think I like you when you’re feeling contrite.” She bestowed a dazzling smile on him.

His heart nearly burst from his chest. This moment. This was the type of moment he needed and wanted. This feeling with Shelly by his side, her smile, her body, the pleasure of her company. Christmas would be good this year. He would make damned sure of it.

*

“Jesus, Anthony, these clothes cost more than a week of my pay,” Shelly whispered as they walked through an upscale Manhattan boutique.

“Then you need a better job.”

“Or you need to shop cheaper.” Just being in a store like this made her stomach churn. She’d never get used to this kind of thing, spending hundreds of dollars on a single sweater.

“Look, it’s Christmas. I have it from a good source that my sister-in-law loves clothes from this store, but much like you, doesn’t shop here because she abhors the prices. However, she will accept gifts.”

“I like Aubrey.”

“I do too,” Anthony said.

“Fooled her.”

“An error I’m trying to rectify.”

“Buying your way out of purgatory?”

“Anything that works.”

“Here. This green one.” Shelly lifted a soft cardigan, delicate and simple. “The color will look good with her skin tone and her eyes. She’s got a couple more months, this will feel good while she’s really pregnant.”

“I defer to you.” He handed the clerk the sweater. “We need gifts for Nina and Nonna, and my brothers and—”

“The baby,” Shelly said. “You need to get a gift for the baby, too. Is it a girl or a boy?”

Anthony lifted both brows and pressed his lips into a line, stunned silent. This was how bad a brother he’d become, he had no idea—

“Oh my God! Anthony, your sister-in-law is nearly seven months pregnant with your brother’s child, and you don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Shelly’s eyes flared as she stomped her foot for effect.