One Hot Winter Break (Yardley College Chronicles Book 2) (11 page)

“A good memory?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

“I’m glad you had good memories,” he says.

That makes my heart clench. “Did you have any?”

“Not from being a kid. But you’re giving me good memories now.” He steps back and looks to the top of the tree. I asked for a basic star—the one I had as a kid was aluminum foil crumpled around cardboard. This one is simple, beautiful, and plated with silver.

“You decorated the tree while I was out?”

“The staff put the lights on it and helped with ornaments. Piers went a little over the top. For example, I asked for a tree and he said he could get one, but I didn’t expect this.”

“I gave him instructions to provide you with anything you asked for. No limits.”

What he said sinks in. “No
limits
? Jonathon, that was way too generous. And you aren’t covering the cost of my Christmas gift to you.”

He sighs. “Babe, I have the money. It’s a gift to you, all right?”

“Okay. I guess. Do you want to open the rest of your presents?”

“Yeah,” he says. “And I do have something for you.”

“What is it?”

“Wait and see, Mia. Christmas is about surprises.”

I guess it is. Maybe that’s what makes it such an emotional holiday. It’s not the aspect of family, but the aspect of the unexpected.

“First,” he says, “I get to make you come for Christmas.”

***

Hours later, there’s a knock at the door. I’m sprawled on the sofa in front of the tree, naked, with Jonathon thrusting into me from behind.

He stops, groaning. “I’m too tired, Mia. You’ve made me come too many times.”

I’ve come too—because I cheated and stroked my clit and brought myself to orgasm.

I pull a blanket over me. He tosses on a robe, then answers the door.

It’s the Christmas dinner I ordered, pushed in on several trolleys.

Instead of turkey, I went for roast quails. Silver dishes contain mashed potatoes, yams, turnip (a favorite of my grandfather on my mom’s side), and gravy. Punch is set out, along with bottles of wine. Now it smells like Christmas.

Jonathon brings a robe for me, then he escorts me to my chair and has me sit. He pours me a glass of wine. At nineteen, I’m underage for alcohol at home, but in our private villa it’s a different world.

Jonathon sits across from me, looking gorgeous in a deep blue silk robe that makes his eyes look turquoise. He lifts his glass. “A toast. To you, Mia, for giving me the most unforgettable winter break.”

I sip. “Is that a compliment?”

He grins. “You’re right. To you, Mia, for giving me the perfect winter break.”

“How can it be perfect? I won’t let you use paddles or floggers and I sprung a Christmas on you that you don’t want.”

His eyes are intense. “You value me and you value yourself. It’s taken me a few days to understand what is so special about you. I like the way you know your own mind. I like the way you set and respect limits. I’m used to getting what I want. I’ve always needed to be in control. With you, I am often not in control. That’s unsettling. But I’m starting to like it.”

He rings a small silver bell, and a maid in an impeccable uniform enters from our kitchen area. She serves the food, refills wine.

Piers got us paper crackers, which we pull. Trinkets fall out, like little rings and toys. I put the crinkly paper hat on my head, which makes Jonathon laugh.

I can be myself with him. I can be natural. I’ve never felt so accepted in my life.

Jonathon is incredibly special.

For dessert, a trolley comes in carrying plum pudding with brandy burning on it, along with a pumpkin praline cheesecake.

 Jonathon dismisses the maid, after she serves the cake on gold-rimmed plates and the pudding in crystal bowls. “Eat up, angel,” he says. “I want to give you my gifts now.”

He was incredibly appreciative of my simple gifts: the blindfold, a Swiss army knife, a sketch I did of him, placed in a wood frame, and an IOU for unlimited blow jobs. It was all I could do on a small budget. Yet he seemed touched.

Jonathon disappears in his bedroom, returns with a slim box of deep blue velvet. It looks like a jewelry box and I swallow hard. “I didn’t wrap it,” he says, apologetically.

“You didn’t need to get me anything more.”

“But this was perfect for you.” He grins and puts the box in my hands.

Holding my breath, I open it. Oh God.

It’s a choker of deep red stones, with a heart that dangles from the middle.

“Lift your hair, Mia,” he instructs softly, and he puts the choker around my neck, fastening it. It’s a two-inch band of jewels entwined with lace-like silver. It’s stunning.

“I knew rubies would suit you.”

Rubies?
“They aren’t real, are they?”

“Of course.”

“Oh my god, I can’t accept this.”

His brow lifts. “It’s a gift, Mia. Of course you can.”

My vow, to buy everything myself, is flying out the window. This is a gift, but it is too extravagant. Yet I know he won’t take it back.

“You got me beautiful gifts. This is one of mine to you.”

“But my gifts were—”

“From the heart and priceless,” he says.

But he got this before he had any idea I would spring Christmas on him. “If you don’t do Christmas, why did you get me this amazing, beautiful gift?”

“I just wanted to get you something. It felt like the right thing to do. Merry Christmas, Mia.”

I am so deeply touched my heart aches and feels way too big for my chest. Then Jonathon’s eyes change—he watched me open the gift with anticipation. Now his eyes are very green and intense. “I’m clearing my next gift with you first,” he says. “If you aren’t interested, it’s gone.”

I frown, confused. “What
is
it?”

“A threesome. You, me, and Devlin Crane. It’s not vanilla, but it’s not pain. I guarantee it will be intense, erotic pleasure.”

Chapter Nine

Some people spend Boxing Day at sales. I’m going to spend the day after Christmas making love to
two
gorgeous guys at the same time.

I’ve never done anything quite this wild. But Jonathon is so enthusiastic and sweet about it, I’m swept along in the sheer excitement. He brings me breakfast to my bed, pampers me all day, and promises me I will have the sensual experience of a lifetime.

I told him I was will to try it, but I’m nervous when the hour approaches. To be honest, I’m hiding in the bathroom when billionaire Devlin Crane arrives. I hear Jonathon and he exchange quiet words, then Crane heads out to the terrace.

Jonathon instructed me to wear one of my bikinis. I choose my new emerald green one which has a generously padded bra. Then I take five minutes arranging my breasts. In my head, I argue it’s to give me good cleavage. In reality, I’m stalling.

I meet Jonathon in the living room. Wearing swim trunks with a thick white towel slung over his tanned shoulders, he leads me to the pool. Crane is already in the shallow end, holding two flutes of champagne. He hands me one.

The azure pool tiles make Devlin Crane’s eyes as blue as the clear sky. His peach-fuzz blond hair is wet, which turns it into a caramel color. Water droplets glitter in his eye lashes.

“Good afternoon, fantasy girl,” he says.

The nickname startles me. Jonathon used it on me at first, now he always uses my name. “Hi,” I answer, as casually as I can.

But a memory flares up. It sneaks out from behind the dam and assaults.

Once, before I made my vow to be a good girl—before I met Ryan—I was offered the chance to make love with two guys. One was my boyfriend. For two weeks, he tempted me with the idea of being shared by two boys. Finally I agreed—admittedly, I was intrigued by the idea. But when I said yes, my boyfriend suddenly freaked out. He broke up with me on the spot, calling me vicious names. His words hurt me badly. I was confused, unable to understand what had happened. They’d suggested it but I was the bad person because I’d said yes.

His words had made me realize I had to change. I had to value myself. I had to stop dating jerks.

But I’d also learned something else: sexual scenarios are way more complex in real life than in fantasy. In what ways will this erotic experience bite me in the butt?

It can’t, I think, as I go down the steps into the warm pool. Jonathon does this all the time. He’s my friend, this is all about sexual adventure, and no one is going to get hurt.

Even though he bought me a gorgeous choker, I’m sure he doesn’t think of me as more than a partner in carnal fun, just for a while.

Jonathon swims over to me from behind. We’re standing in waist deep water. “Ready, Mia?” His fingers slip down inside my bikini bottom and he plays with my clit, so I moan as I nod.

His tongue sweeps down my neck. I love this. I close my eyes, trying to focus on nothing but desire. Water ripples around me, and I lift my lashes a bit to see Devlin Crane’s blue eyes, hazy with lust. His broad chest is right in front of me. I shut my eyes again.

His hands rest on my bare waist. His mouth presses to my cleavage, where it’s lifted into plump curves by the bra. I feel the warmth of his tongue stroking them.

I should feel something intense. Jonathon is pressed against me from behind; Crane is licking the tops of my breasts. But I feel distant. As if I’m looking down on this scene from above again.

“Her eyes are closed,” Crane murmurs to Jonathon.

Jonathon’s breath whispers hot across me ear. “Do you want this, Mia?”

I’m so tense with nerves. What will happen after this? Do I want this? “Yes,” I say softly, eyes still shut.

“She’s gorgeous, Jonathon,” Crane says, as if I’m something Jonathon bought in a store. “Is she special?”

“Mia is very special.”

“She must be special to you if she convinced you to celebrate Christmas.” Crane’s hands skim up to my breasts and he cups them through my bra top.

“She did this for me. A gift because I haven’t had a Christmas in a hell of a long time.”

I wish they wouldn’t talk over me as if I’m not here. But they stop speaking and both focus on kissing my neck. Jonathon nibbles up to my earlobe, catches it in his teeth. Crane sucks on my neck, making my legs want to melt in the warm water.

“She’s wonderful, Jonathon. You’re a lucky guy.”

I haven’t done anything yet. Jonathon must have praised me already. I can hear their hot, fast breathing as they kiss me. Jonathon’s hand slides into my bikini bottom, cupping my ass. Crane’s fingers stroke the v between my legs through the suit.

Two handsome guys telling me I’m gorgeous and beautiful and sexy and wonderful? I can’t believe it. I’ve never had anything like this: two powerful men panting over me, admiring me.

I moan, trying to focus on how exciting this is. Trying to think only about the pleasure.

I can’t. I just can’t. All I can feel is that I’ve broken all my vows and promises and I’m going to hate myself for it.

I’m not into Crane’s caresses. He’s gorgeous and rich and sexy, but I’m feeling nothing.

I can’t do this. It’s not just about sex for me. I only want Jonathon. I’m not interested in Devlin Crane. But I agreed to this and don’t I owe this to Jonathon for springing Christmas on him, and dredging up memories he wanted to bury?

Jonathon turns me so I face him. His hands move over my breasts, while he kisses me deeply, teasing my tongue with his.

Someone undoes one of the ties on my bikini bottom. Someone’s hand cups my ass. A deep groan sounds by my ear and that must be Crane. Then Jonathon pushes back from me. He looks as if he’s in pain. “Damn it, I can’t do this.”

My hand, in the water, accidentally grazes his swim trunks. I haven’t touched either man. I was standing more like a puppet than a woman. But when my hand brushes his shorts, I realize Jonathon isn’t aroused.

His eyes—turquoise with the glimmer of the water reflected in them—gaze at me. He looks confused. “I’m not into this. Crane, I’m sorry, but I can’t share Mia.” He pulls me to him, and says over my head to his friend, “Hell, this has never happened before.”

***

I get sent to the washroom to dry off while Jonathon and Crane are talking. About what, I don’t know. I get the feeling from the raw disappointment on Devlin Crane’s handsome face that he wants to try to change Jonathon’s mind.

I’m relieved, but confused.

Why wouldn’t Jonathon play the games with me he always plays? Does it mean he cares about me? Or does it mean he isn’t into me?

I take a fast shower, but even the hot needles of the shower don’t soothe me.

What if Jonathon does care about me? Do I love him? For a year, I dated Ryan and I knew for certain I loved him. Can I really have fallen in love with Jonathon so quickly?

When I get out of the bath, I pull on a t-shirt and cut-off shorts. Casual, faded, comfortable clothes.

I’m blow-drying my hair when the bathroom door opens. I expect to see Jonathon, and my eyes almost pop out of my head as Devlin Crane comes into the bathroom, closes the door, and clicks the lock.

He has a towel wrapped around his hips.

I swallow hard, thinking there is probably nothing underneath it but his bare skin.

“Jonathon was right,” he says. “You are addictive.” Crane studies me with his vivid blue eyes as if he’s trying to understand why.

“Um, I’m drying my hair,” I point out. It’s an invitation for him to leave but he doesn’t take it. I set down the dryer. This feels wrong.

Crane comes up to me from behind, slips his arms around my waist. “I want to kiss you,” he says.

“Does Jonathon know you’re in here? Did he change his mind?” I haven’t. “Mr. Crane, I can’t do this.” I called him that the night I first met him at the BDSM club in fall term.

“Devlin. Come on, fantasy girl. You were willing to fuck me earlier. All I want now is a kiss.”

A kiss in the bathroom with the door closed, so Jonathon can’t see. The coarse way he points out I agreed to a threesome makes me shiver.

“No,” I say sharply. “I agreed to it for Jonathon, but I couldn’t have done it. It’s not who I am.” I can’t separate sex from caring about someone. I know that now.