Billionaire's Christmas Vixen (6 page)

He wasn’t sure if she going to do it at all. Wasn’t sure if she even wanted to. When he’d pulled her near, if he was being honest, it had been an attempt to sway her from closing herself from him. The slight, soft pressure of her body against his, her hand still linked with his, her hair smelling of fresh lilac raising up to meet him. He was tempted to run his fingers through her hair and to feel the texture of it. But she had already turned away from the intimate moment, and he wasn’t going to push it now.

When he woke to her hand on his chest and her lips warm against his cheek, he was surprised to find that he felt a shock of pleasure shoot through him from it. Something so simple, but he mentally sighed when she pulled away, wishing that she would linger just a moment longer. There was something about her that made him just want to feel her in every way.

His eyes had opened to find her watching him, and he could see that she’d had no intention of being caught. This revelation alone was enough to make him smile. He pulled her up so that she was nearly nose to nose with him, feeling her breasts pressed against his naked chest. He held her gaze, wanting his mouth to take hers. Wanting to slide a finger into the strap of her top and slide it over her shoulder so that she could free herself from the restricting fabric.

He wanted to, but he held himself back. He wanted this to be on her terms, and if she wanted it, he wanted it to be her choice. She watched him, her eyes bright even in the dying light. She tried pulling back, but at the last moment, she caved into the same desire, and allowed her lips to wrap around his.

She was exhilarating. Her skin was on fire as he caressed her shoulders and her back. Her lips burned into him as they tasted one another. He could feel her shudder under his touch, urging him to continue his exploration of her body. He was nervous about making her uncomfortable. When she grasped one of his roaming hands and pushed it down to her hip, and then her thigh, and between her legs, the heat burning at him, he knew that she wanted it just as much as he.

He was itching to explore her entire body, but he wanted to take his time with her. He wanted to make her feel appreciated and desired, admired for who she was, for her natural beauty. He wanted her to know that it wasn’t just about what he was going to get out of it, that it wasn’t just about his pleasure. He wanted to please her, he wanted Brea to shiver, shudder, moan and groan. He’d never wanted that for the woman he was with, but he wanted it for Brea.

Her thighs were tight around his fingers, in resistance to his touch. She had directed him there, but she seemed unsure of her decision. He massaged and caressed, the thick fabric of her jeans preventing him from truly getting a feel for her. Still, she reacted to his touch, moaning against his lips and spreading her knees slightly. Just enough for him to slide his hand upwards to the crease between her thighs. He didn’t want to put too much pressure on her, but he wanted to touch her, to feel her suppleness with the tips of his fingers. She moaned again, and for a moment he worried that she would push him away. Instead, she arched against him, welcoming his touch.

He lay her back against the cushioned seat of the couch. “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned not only for her comfort, but for what they were getting themselves into. He wanted her to have no regrets.

She grinned, and wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, pulled him down to her. She was tiny compared to his tall, sturdy frame, and he was gentle with her because of it. It was as if he could crush her with a thought, and he was sure that it might be possible, not only physically, but mentally. Had he not noticed how bright and flawless her skin was? How red and luscious her lips were, slightly swollen from his mouth taking in hers, suckling at it playfully.

Her fingers tugged at the hairs at the base of his hairline, making the hairs on the rest of his neck stand on end. He traced her face with his fingers, his palm resting on her cheek for a moment as he watched her. He made her nervous, and he wanted to do all he could to put her mind at ease.

His hands found her neck and her shoulder, running down her side and avoiding her breasts, and then stayed on her hip. She pulled herself back from him so that she could look into his eyes for a moment. Brea was flushed, even in the pale yellow orange cast from the dying embers of the fire.

“It’s okay, I want this.”

He searched her eyes for the truth behind her words. Her eyes smiled along with her, and, grinning back, he gave her what she wanted.

It took all of his self-control for him to take things slow, but he wanted to take his time with her. He moved his hand up her shirt inch by inch, admiring how smooth her skin was against his hands, how hot it was to his touch, even in the cooling air. She ran her fingers across his chest, sending a chill through his body. George felt the strain of himself against his pants as he ached to be even closer to her. Instead, he pulled Brea’s shirt over her head and pulled her bra from her shoulders. She fell free before him and immediately pulled her arms up to cover herself.

“Are you okay with this?”

She bit her lip before replying, but he waited. He would do this right. For her, for him. She dropped her eyes, watching the embers, and then looked back up at him. “I’ve only ever been with one person.”

“Eric?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

She nodded in response. “He never saw me…he never saw me naked.”

It took him a moment to process her honesty. No man had ever seen her naked. He had come as close as anyone else, and he’d only seen the top half. How could it be so? Her body was perfect. Her breasts were firm, not small but large enough to fit snugly into his hands.

Her stomach was smooth, not quite flat, but he loved it.
Love
? He had never used that word. Still, that was his first thought, and he couldn’t take it back now. He handed her bra and shirt back to her. “I’ll turn away,” he assured her, and he did just that.

It was only a handful of seconds before her hand was on his arm, pulling him back around to face her. Her shirt and bra had both been discarded to the floor, and her hands removed from her breasts. “I want you to see.”

She let him slip her bra over her shoulders, but when she felt herself come free from the support of the underwire, her hands instinctively flew up to cover her exposed breasts. But he turned, allowing her to climb back into her cave and to hide herself from him. He was giving her that choice, making it hers, not his. From the look of desire he had seen cross his face before he had turned from him, she knew that he wanted to see her, but he wasn’t going to ask something of her that she didn’t want.

That thought alone, knowing that he was doing this for her and not himself, made her want to give it all to him. She dropped the shirt to the floor, feeling the satin fabric as it slipped between her fingers, and then did the same with her bra. Taking half a dozen deep breaths, she looped her hand around his arm and turned him to face her. She had never been so nervous but she wanted him to see. For one crazy reason or another, she wanted to share herself with him, not just parts of herself, but all of it.

“I want you to see.” She took his hand in hers and led it to her breast, allowing his fingers to lay on the soft, sensitive skin. Her body convulsed involuntarily at the touch, his fingers playing lightly, testing her as he did. She’d never thought that she could feel such pleasure from a simple touch, from a small warm breath on her skin.

The button to her jeans came undone, and, lifting her hips, she wiggled her way out of them. He tugged them down her thighs, and then kissed his way back up to her, lingering at her hip and then her breast for only a moment. She already wanted to cry out, to ask him to stop teasing because she wanted to feel him, but she was enjoying this. Eric had never been so gentle, had never considered how she felt or how to make her feel sexy and desirable.

She was tortured with how slow he was going with her. Even as his hand slid between her now naked thighs and pulled at the elastic of her panties, he only teased her. His knuckles brushed against her skin as his fingers ran gently across her sacred area. Brea’s back arched as she anticipated more, his hand sliding up and down her, working her body up, making her body ache for him. She was growing impatient, and he was just growing against her thigh. She pushed her hips upward, and he responded by using his hand to explore. She groaned as he held her closely, feeling the build of pressure as it begged to be set free.

He played her expertly, as if he had known her body long before he’d laid a hand on her. He moved down to her chest and traced his tongue around the curves, before taking one of her nipples in between his teeth. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or to groan, so she did a mixture of both, making George laugh gently against her, sending vibrations across her breast.

His fingers were still working wonders between her legs, and Brea was having a hard time on concentrating on what he did there and what his mouth was doing with her nipples. She dug her nails into his back, helping to direct him where she wanted him. The problem? She wanted him everywhere. When her nipples were sore and nearly raw, he glanced up at her, smiling, and then lowered himself between her legs to take over for his hand. How had she not known how wonderful this could be?

She arched and twisted as his mouth rained hot kisses over her. His tongue pried her open and flicked across her clit. She jerked with the suddenness of it, and she could feel George smile against her lips. “Don’t run away from me now.” His breath was hot and moist against her sensitive skin, making Brea only want him more.

When his tongue finally found its way inside, Brea instinctively clenched against him, nervous and excited for him to taste her. His thumb found her hood and, pushing it back, rubbed at her softly, but quickly picked up pace as she began moving with him. George seemed to know exactly what she needed, and gave it to her. As she cried out in release, his tongue lapped up every bit of her, leaving nothing behind.

When she had been drained and her body had thrashed itself into exhaustion, George crawled up to her so that he was propped over her on his elbows. He strained in his pants against her naked body, and as he lifted himself slightly, she shot a hand down. He gasped at her suddenness, but gladly accepted her touch. She caressed and kneaded before pulling him free of his restraint. As her fingers ran along the taut skin, she felt his body tense over her with the craving. He was much larger than her hand, and she could feel herself tense with anticipation of feeling him. Brea guided him to where he needed to be.

Brea stretched around him as she welcomed him inside, but damned if it didn’t hurt. She’d felt nothing like it before, but even with the ache of it, she wanted more. George was slow about his work with her, caressing her cheek, kissing her lips, his hands gently rolling across her body. She could barely make him out in the dull, pale, broken light of the moon that had made its way through the curtains. She could feel, though, and that was all she needed. She ran her fingers along his arms, feeling the muscles as they tensed and released with every movement. She felt his back and his chest, her hands getting to know every inch of him, burning the image of him into her mind. She never wanted to forget this body.

He thrust slowly, every motion pushing her. In response, Brea placed her hands on the arms of the couch and pushed back against him, opening herself up. He pulled out slowly and looked into her eyes, but she urged him on. She wasn’t ready to stop. She savored him, savored the way he made her body vibrate from want and need. She savored the way his skin felt against hers, smooth and slick, and the way his mouth teased, sucked and nibbled at her lips. He moaned over her as she felt him expand inside her. His body heaved and pumped as he released himself.

When he lay next to her, pulling the blanket up over her chest so that the chill of the room wouldn’t get to her, she curled into his chest, skin against skin. She searched for the words to break the silence. She thought that anything she could say would sound lame and unromantic, breaking the feeling that both of them held onto in those moments. She felt awkward, wondering if he was waiting for her to say something. To tell him how wonderful he was, or how he had made her feel, or some other phrase to boost his ego. She’d have gladly said any of those things, because they were true.

She had fallen asleep long ago, but he still lay wide awake, staring into the nothingness. The light of the moon was beginning to blend with the rays of the sun as it rose over the horizon and broke through the thinning, leafless trees. Brea’s chest rose and fell just as smoothly as the sun and moon, her eyes tight against the breaking morning. The night weighed heavily on his thoughts as he replayed their words with one another, and then the intimacy that they had shared. When she had stepped up to his door in the early evening hours, he had wanted to turn her away without a second thought. Now he was sure that when she finally did leave his family home, that he would feel a bit of him leave with her.

He’d not slept but for those few moments before he had felt her lips against his cheek, but he no longer felt exhaustion pulling at him. He felt more awake, more alive than he had in quite some time, and Brea had everything to do with that. For the first time in many years, he felt joy at being up on Christmas morning. As he gently moved from her side, ensuring that the heavy quilt still covered her completely, George did what he could to make it a special morning for Brea.

The cold was bitter against his cheeks, even huddled in his heavy fleece coat and a scarf wrapped snugly around his neck and ears. Thankfully the logs were only a few feet from the front door. Grabbing a small stack, he made a mad dash to get back to the warmth of the cabin. He was about to cross the threshold, out of the freezing wind, when from the corner of his eye, he could see the rustling of the underbrush off to his left.

George wanted to investigate, show no fear, but he couldn’t deny the lump in his throat as he stood stiffly, waiting for the assassin to reveal himself. He couldn’t be sure how long he stood there, but for the first time since the shooting, he felt concern for not only his own safety, but for someone else’s. If someone were lurking in the trees with the intent of hurting him, it wouldn’t take much for them to realize that they just had to get to Brea. Another rustle, the thick branches shaking white powder from their limbs. George forced his feet to move, his fingers already losing their feeling, his face pained with the cold. If someone
was
stalking him, it would do no good to just stand there like a target.

It was still cool inside, but compared to the biting wind of the winter storm, it was a furnace behind the log walls. He quickly built a fire, allowing himself to become distracted from who or what might be just outside his door, so that, when she finally woke, her naked body wouldn’t freeze as she pulled on her clothing. He admired her as she slept, letting his mind wander to the image that was beneath his quilt. She stirred but did not wake, her movements snapping him to and setting him about his task.

George had neglected the attic for years, having only been up in the rafters a handful of times to search for tools left behind by his father. The boxes he searched for were still stacked in the same corner that they had been in all of his childhood years. He was thankful that his mother had always been meticulous. He toted them down to the first floor, careful to make as little noise as possible, and began slinging off the lids of each crate.

It took nearly two hours for him to set up the tree and to hang decorations on the limbs. He was unseasoned in spreading the limbs and balancing out the ornaments. When he stepped back to look at his finished work, the lights glimmering in the otherwise dimly lit room, he saw that it was lopsided. He sighed in disappointment with himself, and was just about to tear everything down and try again when a raspy, tired voice sounded behind him. “It’s beautiful.”

Brea sat on the couch, the quilt pulled over her breasts but her shoulders still bare. He smiled nervously. How long had she been watching him? “Good morning.” He went to her side and kissed her cheek. “I thought that, since you didn’t get to wake to your family’s Christmas tree, that the least I could do was to give you one to wake to here.” He glanced over his shoulder at his Charlie Brown fake six-footer. “I’m afraid I haven’t put one up in quite some time, so it’s a bit sad to look at.”

She took his hand and pulled him onto the couch. “No, it’s perfect.” She lay her head on his shoulder as they both watched the lights twinkle. He wished he had something to put beneath it. Something that he could watch her rip open, smile with pure joy once she saw how thoughtful he had been. He realized that, even if he had had the time to do so, he would have had no idea what to even get for her. There was so much to know, and he had barely scratched the surface of that knowledge.

“I think I’m going to go see my family today.”

He had thought about it briefly as they had talked the night before. He sat there with her, looking at his family Christmas tree.

She pushed away from him and studied his face. “Really?” she asked excitedly, then sighed. “George, that’s truly wonderful! I know that they’ll be thrilled to have you!” She hugged herself to him tightly, and he held onto her for several long moments.

Yes, it was going to be wonderful to go home, but that also meant that he was going to have to let Brea go. He was going to have to watch her walk out the door and out of his life. Possibly into the arms of another man. The thought panged him, his stomach wrenching at the thoughts. Brea, in another man’s arms. He didn’t want that, but he couldn’t be selfish with her, not with Brea.

“Breakfast? I happen to make amazing blueberry pancakes.” The morning was already flowing too quickly. He’d hoped that she would sleep forever so that he could keep her there, but now that she was awake, the minutes seemed to be ticking by at an alarming rate. She would want to leave soon, and it killed him. She nodded at his pancake suggestion, pushing aside the blanket warily so that she could dress. He was glad that he had built the fire for her, because he could already see the goose bumps cover her skin. Respectfully, he turned and walked towards the kitchen. He wanted to watch her, wanted to see her smooth skin slipping into her jeans, wanted to watch as her nipples were hidden behind her lace bra. But he knew that she was nervous with his eyes on her, so he walked away.