Christmas With a Billionaire: Billionaire Under the Mistletoe\Snowed in With Her Boss\A Diamond for Christmas (12 page)

He leaned in and kissed her thigh, following the path he’d moved his finger over a moment ago. And her breathing stopped. Her brain stopped. Everything in her paused, waiting to see what he would do. Hoping he would do what she thought he might, and kind of hoping he wouldn’t because it seemed like such an intimate thing.

But then he did, his tongue sliding over her, then dipping inside her before tracing back. She put her hands on his head, holding him to her, trying to keep back the moan that was rising in her throat. But when he added his finger, she stopped trying.

She gasped, any thoughts of embarrassment or nerves gone now. Nothing mattered but this. But being wanted by him. But having him enjoy her body like this.

He continued to pleasure her with his mouth, pushing her higher, further than she’d ever thought possible, a knot of tension building in her stomach, getting tighter and tighter, until she thought it might break her. Until she thought there was no way she’d be able to survive.

He pushed another finger inside her, moved in time with his tongue, and it all broke free. The dam burst, the flood of pleasure far more overwhelming than she could have imagined, far more satisfying. Far more devastating.

He moved then, reaching for the nightstand drawer, and the box of protection that was inside. He tore it open, his hands shaking. For her. He was still hard, the evidence that he’d enjoyed what he’d done to her openly displayed.

She watched him roll the condom over his length before he came back to her, kissing her lips as he moved into position, the head of him testing the entrance to her body.

It suddenly occurred to her, through her post-orgasmic haze, that this was going to hurt. But it was too late for her to brace herself. He entered her fully, a sharp, hot pain ripping through her as he did.

She whimpered, putting her fist over her mouth and trying to stifle the sound. He didn’t seem to realize the sound was from pain, though, and that was actually fine with her.

He pulled back before thrusting in again, and this time, it didn’t hurt quite so much. And each time he came back to her, it hurt less, until eventually, it felt good again. Until tension started building, deep in her again, the promise of another release.

She gripped his shoulders, then moved her hands down over his back, feeling the play of muscles as he moved in her, reveling in the closeness.

He slid his hand beneath her butt and cupped her, pulling her up tightly against him, the slight readjustment bringing all the right things into contact with each other. Every thrust, every movement taking her closer to the edge.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, arching against him, guided by his firm hold on her bottom.

Then he kissed her, hard, deep. And took her straight over the edge. She clung to him, because if she didn’t she was sure she was going to lose touch with the bed. Hell, with the earth.

He pulled his mouth from hers and buried his face in her neck, speaking French against her skin as he froze above her, his muscles shaking as his own release rocked him.

She released her hold on him and threw her arms up behind her head. “Wow,” she said, breathless.

He said something, too, still in French. And she had a feeling it wasn’t a nice word. He pulled away from her, rolled into a sitting position and froze for a moment, before standing and walking into the bathroom.

Well, just great. They’d done it and now he was fleeing the scene.

She didn’t know what to do. If she should get her clothes back on and leave, or stay in the bed or...she had no idea what the protocol was really.

Luc returned before she could decide. She was still lying on top of the covers all melted, and pale and naked. She felt like a little snowshoe hare ripped from the safety of its burrow. And that made Luc the fox. Or something.

She was fuzzy on...fuzzy animal analogies.

“Now,” he said, his voice cold, “you should have told me that.”

“What?”

“Were you a virgin?” he asked, standing nearer to the bathroom than to the bed, as if he was pondering running from the scene of the crime.

“Technically. Yes. I mean...I did stuff with Clint. Sometimes. Not so much for the past...while. But he said he wanted to wait. And I thought...that’s so great. Because he loved me enough not to satisfy himself right away. He loved me enough to make it permanent first because he was that sure. Except really, it was just that it was so easy for him because he was that unattracted to me and I... Luc, I needed this. I needed someone to want me.”

“Just someone?” he asked, his voice rough.

“No. I don’t think it could have been anyone else. I couldn’t do that with a stranger, not after I waited so long. Not after it was built up to be such a big thing in my head. I needed it to be with someone I trusted. And I trust you. So please don’t look at me like I kicked your puppy because that’s messing with my confidence.”

“I can’t offer you marriage, not like him.”

“Well, I don’t think I want the kind of marriage he’s offering. Actually, no, I know I don’t. And I knew with total certainty the moment you kissed me that I didn’t want a passionless relationship. The thing is, we’d gone without passion for so long, obviously we never really had it, but we substituted it with this wonderful, warm caring and I was completely taken in by it. I forgot that marriage was supposed to be more than friendship. I was only thinking of it in terms of...family. Of making him my family. Of blending our families. Because it’s what everyone wanted.”

“You’re right,” he said. “Marriage is more than friendship. And it’s more than a business deal, which during my own engagement I failed to realize, which is just one reason, I’m sure, my fiancée found what she was looking for in the arms of my brother. But marriage is also more than sex. This won’t give you more. I can’t give you more.”

“I know that,” she said. “And we would be a terrible couple. Because you would always ask me to bring you coffee and you’re grumpy, and you’d have to hear me sing twenty-four hours a day, so I wasn’t suggesting that it was the magic marriage component that meant you and I should—” Heat flooded her face and she stuttered over the next words. “It never even crossed my mind, I’m not that naive.”

“Funny,” he said, leaning against the wall, still completely naked, “because I thought you were that naive. Seeing as how you were a virgin and all.”

“Virgin does not equal naive. Granted, not realizing for nine years that the guy you’re in a relationship with is really not that into you, because you’re not checking the right box on your legal forms, if you know what I mean, is kind of naive. But I had a blind spot because I’d known him for so long.”

“My point exactly. I’m not naive.”

“No one would ever accuse you of it.” She slid off the bed and stood for a moment, then tugged back the covers and climbed back in, covering her body.

“Now what?” he asked.

“I don’t know. We’re sort of stuck here, aren’t we?”

“We are,” he said, crossing to the foot of the bed and standing there, naked still, and much more casual about it than she felt. “So what do you want, Amelia?”

“What do you want, Luc?”

“Me? I’m a man. I would like nothing more than to crawl back into bed with you and spend the entire day inside you, but considering...I feel the choice should be yours.”

Her heart was hammering hard, her mouth completely dry. “I want that, too,” she said, the words spilling out of her. “I want... I want you and me and this. And you know what? I have for a long time, but I didn’t even want to acknowledge it to myself because it seemed so wrong that my boss could get me hotter asking me to fetch him a file than my fiancé could by kissing me, but it’s the truth. It’s been the truth and I...”

Just like that, he was over her, kissing her, tugging the blankets back, his warm body covering hers. “This,” she said, “is my new favorite way to spend a snowstorm.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
T
GOT
DARK
out early, and Luc didn’t care. It didn’t matter what time it was. Not when they had a fire going in the living area of their suite, not when he was holding Amelia, naked and bundled in a blanket, against his body.

Not when he felt this good.

Enjoying something, enjoying being with another person, was strange. Or maybe not so strange. He’d always found her to be more enjoyable than most people, so it stood to reason that spending time with her like this would be a good experience.

Though, he hadn’t expected to spend naked time with Amelia, for all the reasons they’d already both gone over. And yet, right now, it just didn’t seem to matter.

The way that the firelight made her face glow was infinitely more important. More important still was the way her curves felt beneath his hands. The way her breasts fit so perfectly in his palms...

All of that seemed infinitely more essential than an ethical employer/employee relationship and unresolved engagements. Though, some time ago, she’d taken her ring off and stuffed it in the bottom of her gigantic purse. He’d been far too gratified by that.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Amelia asked, snuggling into him.

“You’re naked, I’m naked, I don’t think anything is too personal at the moment.”

“Fair point,” she said. “But you’re not going to like this.”

“Try me.”

“Okay...if you didn’t love Marie, why are you still angry with Blaise?”

She was right, he didn’t like the question. If only because he didn’t readily have an answer for it. He didn’t spend a lot of time dwelling on it, he’d just been content to allow his brother to stay at a distance. The rift was fine with him.

“She was mine,” he said.

“Obviously she wasn’t, Luc,” Amelia said. “And I’m sorry if that’s harsh, but it’s true. Clint wasn’t mine. Not really. Or he wouldn’t have wanted someone else. And I wouldn’t be so...not brokenhearted. And I’m not. So what he did was wrong, and the position he put me in was wrong, but I’m not going to be mad at him for the next eight years. It wouldn’t have been a good marriage, and if he wants something else, and I want something else, we shouldn’t be together, right?”

“He hates me,” Luc said, his voice rough. “He always has. Because I stayed with our father. Because...I’m the oldest. I had to. I had a responsibility to the business. And I think Blaise always felt I betrayed them in some way. That I was part of their banishment back to Africa. But that was our mother’s choice. And it was Blaise’s choice to go with her. I know he thinks that my life was easy. That I had things I didn’t deserve. But he doesn’t know. Mansions don’t protect you from everything. And our father turned into a drunken, abusive bastard. So I resent the idea that somehow my life was so easy, I didn’t deserve what I had.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“In the end, I think he was the lucky one,” Luc said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, for all of his flaws, and he has them, he knows how to love people. I don’t. That’s why Marie couldn’t be with me. It’s why my father and I found things difficult. But he managed to love my fiancée enough to excuse his behavior. Then she left him spectacularly, just as she did to me, and he went on to love his wife, Ella. I just...can’t.”

“Why not, Luc?” she asked, pain lacing her voice. And he hated himself for that. For making her sad. That seemed to be his whole life. His reality was just not something people wanted to deal with. Not something they wanted to hear.

“I think you have to see love early. I think you have to learn it. And I never had the chance. I was too busy protecting myself from my father’s fists. Sometimes unsuccessfully. But I closed everything down inside myself at a young age, and I don’t think I could open it up now if I wanted to.”

She wiggled and turned so that she was facing him, her blue eyes glittering with emotion. “If it’s still in there, then there’s hope,” she said.

“You’re such an optimist, Amelia. I think that’s why I find you so fascinating. You see things with a ring of brightness around them. I envy that. I never did before I met you.”

“Nice to know I’ve made an impact.” She kissed him, closing her eyes tight. He kept his open for a moment, so that he could watch her. So that he could see just how much of herself she was putting into the kiss. It humbled him. Fascinated him. Made him envious. Made him conscious of every lock he’d put on his emotions all those years ago.

She climbed onto his lap, pushing his back against the edge of the couch, reaching behind him and picking up a condom—one of the many they’d left handy—holding it up in front of her. “I want you,” she said. “Even though you are a grump who doesn’t think he can love people.”

Something about her words felt hot. Painful. They settled deep and he could
feel
them. Was so very aware of the fact that they’d changed something in him just because he’d heard them.

She dropped the blanket to her waist, baring her breasts, the damp center of her pressing against his hardened arousal. She rocked her hips against him and he put his hand on her lower back, holding her tight.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said.

“I hope not,” she said. “I’m not finished with you yet.” She smiled, she always smiled, even when she was playing the vixen, and tore the condom packet open, taking out the protection and reaching between them, rolling it over his length.

“Aren’t you sore?” he asked, genuinely concerned, but hoping that she wasn’t.

“In the best way,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and flexing her hips so that the slick entrance to her body came into contact with the head of him.

She lowered herself onto him slowly, biting her lip, her eyes never leaving his. So sincere, his Amelia. She felt everything and she held nothing back. It was painful to see. Painful and exquisite. And so much more than he deserved.

She moved over him, taking him in deeper before retreating, then repeating the motion. She clasped her hands behind his neck, holding on to him as she took them both closer to the edge.

He tightened his hold on her hips and pulled her downward, harder, farther. She closed her eyes, a raw, sexual sound escaping her lips as she let her head fall back. If anything was more beautiful than her smile, it was this. Amelia. Lost in pleasure. Lost in him.

He could happily keep her like this forever.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to shift the weight that had settled on his chest. Forever wasn’t an option. There would never be anything past today. But they had today. They had now.

Fire crackled along his veins, need, desire, building in him until he couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Until he thought he might be reduced to ash. As though this moment might destroy him forever.

He gritted his teeth, tried to hold his climax back, tried to wait for her. But he was too close. It was too much. His control slipped its leash, and the fire turned into a raging blaze, hotter, more furious than he could have ever imagined.

He came on a roar, and she followed, leaning forward and biting his shoulder, the searing pain adding to the intensity, adding to the impossible surge of sensation that was filling his body.

She melted against him, her skin damp with sweat, her breasts pressed into his chest, her head rested in the curve of his neck, her cheek directly over the place that still burned from her teeth sinking into him.

“Oh, Luc,” she said, her breathing hard, fast. “I...I love you.”

He stiffened and pushed her away gently so that he could see her face. “You what?”

“I love you. I’m really sorry that I’m saying this now. And I’m sorry that I’m saying it at all. Because you warned me. You told me how things were and you just explained everything to me and I won’t even pretend that I understand what you went through. And I’m not going to tell you that it should be different for you. Because that’s not fair. I’m not you and I don’t understand what you’ve been through. But...it doesn’t change how I feel. And I would...break the damn locks off your feelings boxes if I could. Or hope that I had a key somewhere, which would be better than breaking things all willy-nilly inside you, but I’m just saying, if I didn’t have a key I would.”

“Amelia...this is...” He lifted her from him and deposited her on the carpeted floor, her blanket beneath her. “I told you.”

“I know. But this is the thing, Luc. I think it’s always been you for me.”

“What?”

“Clint obviously had his reasons for putting off making love with me, for putting off the wedding, but I obviously wasn’t rushing toward the altar, or the bed either. And then...two days with you has taken me from virgin to sexpert. It’s not random, Luc. I think when I met you, something in me knew, just knew, that there was never going to be anyone who made me feel quite like you.”

“That’s now, Amelia. That’s not forever. It’s not ages with a man who is emotionally nonfunctional. I barely wish
me
on me, I would never wish me on you.”

“But that’s sort of my decision, isn’t it? What if I don’t want love and marriage? What if I just want to be with someone who makes me feel wanted? Is that so bad? I mean...am I crazy?”

“You’re not crazy, Amelia. But you don’t know what you want.”

“Hold. On. You do not get to tell me whether or not I get to sing Christmas carols in my head and you absolutely do not get to tell me what I feel.” Her blue eyes were glistening with tears and he felt it, like a knife twisting in his chest. He was hurting her, breaking her, this beautiful, brilliant woman. And there was nothing he could do to stop himself.

Because it was what he had to do.

What he wanted was to tell her to stay. To tell her to never leave him, no matter that he couldn’t give her back what she needed. He wanted to say to hell with her needs. Her feelings. And hold her to him, so that he could have a little bit of light. Just a little bit.

But he knew what happened to a flame that couldn’t breathe. That didn’t get what it needed. He would only extinguish her light. And then not only would he be in darkness, he’d be responsible for hers, as well.

“You’re noble, Amelia. But you don’t always have to do this,” he said, his tone cold.

“What?”

“You don’t have to give to people who can’t, or won’t, give back to you.”

“I don’t do that,” she said, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, covering her body.

“You do. You were considering marrying your fiancé out of a sense of obligation to him and your parents, even though you knew he wanted to be with someone else. And now you’re throwing yourself across the altar that is my life, just begging to be burned alive. My own personal virgin sacrifice.”

“Luc, what are you doing?” she asked, a tear sliding down her cheek.

He hated himself right now. But not more than he would if he let her do this.

“I’m being honest with you. Clint might be able to ask you to be with him, even though he doesn’t really want you or love you, but I won’t.”

“So you don’t love me, or want me,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word.

“You already know I don’t love you, and as for the wanting, I think it’s clear that right now I do. But later...Amelia, I’m not the kind of man who looks for a long-term commitment. I tried it, and honestly, thank God I was liberated from it. I’m not mad at Blaise because he robbed me of marriage, our issues are a lot deeper than that. In the end, I’m happy to have avoided the institution.”

“So you’re saying you would get tired of me?”

“I’ve never had a long-term relationship,” he bit out, his body rebelling against the idea of ever being tired of her. Of wanting any woman other than her. “I’ve never wanted one. So even now, you’re offering something I’m just not interested in taking someone up on.”

“Oh,” she said, blinking rapidly. “I see. I see. So...so what? No more sex even? I was offering you free milk, here, Chevalier. No cow-buying.”

“Amelia,” he said, and he didn’t want to go on, because if she made him keep going, he would have to say something worse, or he would break and tell her he would take her for as long as he could keep her. “No.”

“Great. Okay,” she said. “That’s good, actually, because I had not been sufficiently rejected this week. So it’s better that we just kind of added emphasis to the whole...my fiancé sleeping with a dude thing. Just to make sure I know my place. Gay men don’t want me, straight men don’t want me. Just fine.”

“Amelia, it’s not you.”

“Right,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “It’s you. You know what? It is you. And it’s Clint. And it’s even my parents, as well as they mean. Everyone wants something from me, and I bend over backward to give it. And well, okay, in the end that’s me. That’s my problem. I’m the one who gives even when I don’t want to. But the one thing I do want to give...you won’t let me, but you’re still trying to tell me what to do, and I hate it. I don’t want to do what everyone wants anymore.”

“Then don’t,” he said, forcing the words out. “But I don’t want to be with you. And I’m not going to do anything I don’t want either.”

The side of her mouth twitched, her eyelids fluttering. “Well, fine. Great. I can’t argue with that.” She stood up, wrapped in the blanket. “I’m going to go to bed. My bed. Hopefully we get a Christmas miracle and the weather clears up tomorrow.”

“Maybe you’ll get one, Amelia,” he said, his voice rough.

He certainly wouldn’t. He wasn’t the kind of person who got Christmas miracles. But she deserved them.

He watched her walk out of the room and tried not to dwell on the fact that for her, a Christmas miracle would involve being relieved of his presence. He had no right to be upset about it, anyway.

He was the one who had pushed her away.

But it was for the best. He wouldn’t doubt his decision.