Jingle Balls: A Holiday Romantic Comedy Anthology

by Dylann Crush

  Like a splash of fuel, every flaming impulse in him ignited. He dragged her back from the mirror, spun her around, and together they tumbled into one of the wingback chairs. He adjusted her hips on his lap and clasped her face, crushing his mouth against hers. She pressed in closer to him, her lips parting and her sweet tongue wound against his. He slanted his mouth against hers, seeking more. She tasted like heaven and this time he groaned her name.

  Her cool hands stroked down his shoulders, exploring, heating his blood with her touch. He released her mouth and his lips traveled across her impossibly soft skin, brushing across her collarbone and nibbling along her shoulder.

  “Rafael.” She arched her back and breathed his name, her voice huskier now.

  Hell, even her use of his full name turned him on. “What do you want, beautiful?”

  Her breath hitched. “You want me to say it?”

  The ridge of his erection strained against his slacks. Hell yes, he wanted her to tell him.

  She whispered, “I want you to touch me.”

  He growled low in his throat. “Touch you where?”

  She hissed out a breath and a rosy flush rose up her chest to her high cheekbones. She grabbed his hand and pulled it to her center. “Please. You’re driving me crazy.”

  She was burning hot, even through the silk of her dress. He picked her up and placed her feet on the floor and growled, “Pull your dress up around your waist.”

  Her eyes narrowed for a moment and she caught her lower lip in her white teeth. She reached for the edges of her long skirt and lifted it up, inch by agonizing inch, and revealed perfect shapely legs. Her eyes gleamed silver and she paused for a moment, holding the skirt’s bottom just in front of her sweet core. “I have a little surprise for you.”

  “Show me.” Rafe’s hands gripped his hands on his thighs, willing her to hurry up before he lost control and pounced. His heart thundered like he was running a marathon and his jaw clenched.

  She raised the scarlet fabric up to her waist revealing that she was bare beneath her gown. That she’d been sitting next to him for hours with no barrier. That he could have reached his hand over underneath the tablecloth and slid his hand up to her thigh. Could have cupped her. Slid a finger inside her. He snapped.

  “On my lap now. Spread your legs and sit facing away from me.” He bit out each word.

  She exhaled, then stepped up to him, turned away and lowered her exquisite body onto his. She arched her back, rocked her hips against his erection, and dropped her head back against him. “Bite my neck again. Then I want your hands all over me.”

  Holy shit. This was no Ice Queen. This was a powerful woman who knew how to ask for exactly what she wanted. Just like he did. “All you had to do was ask.” He lowered his head, pressed his mouth against her throat, and bit down hard enough for her to squirm again. “Too hard?”

  “No. Touch me, Rafael.” She caught one of his wrists and guided her hand where she wanted it.

  He caught her hips in both hands and slowly slid his hands inward and wrapped his fingers around her taut thighs, spreading her legs even wider. Holding her in place with one hand, he cupped her, stroking one finger along her soft folds.

  “You’re so wet. Is this all for me?” Rafe murmured along her throat, struggling for self-control when all he wanted to do was bury himself inside her now.

  “Mmm-hmm. You’ve been driving me crazy all night.”

  Her honesty jolted him up another notch. “Me too. You’re incredible. Now hold onto the chair.” And sexy. And fucking hot as hell.

  He started playing with her, stroking, finding her sensitive spots, savoring her moans and the way she worked herself against his hand. Her body started vibrating and he increased his efforts, desperate to feel her come apart on top of him. To give her pleasure.

  “Oh my god. Oh my god, yes. Rafael.” She cried out, her hips bucking against his hand. He held her tighter against him as wave after wave pulsed through her.

  After a few moments, she relaxed back against his torso, and angled her head toward him, her eyes hooded. He slanted his mouth across hers and this time their tongues tangled in a slow, lazy rhythm. She slid one hand up and caught the back of his head, her slender fingers digging into his hair. A surge of unfamiliar possessiveness rose inside him.

  “I think it’s your turn now.” She whispered against his mouth. Then, she swung one graceful leg over and stood, smoothing her dress back down into place.

  “My turn?” So why was she dressed again? He wanted to be inside her.

  She slid back onto his lap and stroked one hand down his torso, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She reached the waistband of his pants and paused, gazing up into his eyes. Without a word, she unbuckled his belt and started to slide his zipper down.

  He held his breath, his pulse thundering through his veins––mesmerized by the feather-light touch of her fingers. Then she freed him from his pants and wrapped her cool hand around him. He groaned and bowed up from the chair when she began to caress and grip him tighter.

  His breath hissed out as he fisted a hand in her hair, tugging her head back to capture her mouth. Pleasure surged through him. The weight of her against him, the sweet heat of her mouth, the way she seemed to know to touch him exactly how he loved it. Damn.

  “Excuse me?” Someone cleared their throat.

  Phoebe jumped and they both turned their heads toward the timid voice. Oh shit.

  “Umm…I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m supposed to close up the wine cave.”

  Rafe kept Phoebe firmly in his lap with her head turned away from a red-faced, mortified young man in the doorway. “Of course. Can you give us a minute, please? We’ll be right out.” His voice sounded strained in his own ears.

  Another throat clearing cough. “I’ll come back in a few minutes. I’m so sorry.” The boy turned and fled, slamming the door behind him.

  Phoebe leapt up from the chair and ran to the mirror. “Crap, crap, crap. Oh my god, what are we doing?” She smoothed down her dress, fiddled with her glasses, and shook back her mane from her face.

  She turned to look at him, her cheeks flaming and her lips swollen.

  “It was just one of the staff. Don’t worry. You have to admit it’s kind of funny. Like we’re teenagers getting busted making out in the backseat.” Rafe stood and zipped up his fly.

  Despite the interruption, he felt pretty damned happy with the world. He had dreaded tonight because he’d assumed Phoebe would be a pain in the ass, but instead she was smart, sarcastic, and sexy. Different from the women he usually spent time with, and he liked her––really liked her. Phoebe was extraordinary and it was less than two hours until the limousine arrived and they could continue this most unexpected and hot evening. He couldn’t wait to get her into his bed.

  Or go to hers.

  He wasn’t picky. He just wanted more of the sexy Ms. Hollingsworth who proved all those clichés about still waters running deep were true.

  She whirled toward him, her pale hands that had just been perfectly wrapped around him clenched into fists. “Are you out of your mind? There is absolutely not one funny thing about this. This could have been a complete disaster.”

  Rafe struggled to keep up. “A disaster? I’d say this has been more of a revelation. And once we get back to my place, I’d say tonight would be more of a Christmas miracle.” He grinned and stepped toward her.

  Her hands flew up in front of her and she jumped back. “A Christmas miracle? You are out of your mind. Tonight was supposed to be when we landed the new clients, remember? And of course you wouldn’t worry about your reputation being compromised because it doesn’t matter because you’re a man.” She shook her head, her lips twisting into a frown. “You don’t even get how tough it is for women in this industry.”

  Rafe froze. “Just wait a damn minute. We haven’t done a thing except charm everyone at our table. Nobody knows about this. Is this why you act like such a damn nun at work? Because you�
��re worried about your reputation? News alert. It’s the 21st century and you can be successful in your career and also have a personal life.”

  “Well, charm has gotten you far. I can’t believe I fell for it. And it’s different for women, we have to be perfect and above reproach to succeed.” Her full lips compressed into a tight line.

  Anger rose in his chest. “So Ms. Hollingsworth is back. You sure know how to flash hot and cold, don’t you? Don’t put this all on me––you were the one who followed me from the table when I needed a few minutes alone.”

  She huffed out a breath. “I just wanted––”

  A loud cough alerted them that the staff person had returned. Great. The kid was probably terrified they’d break one of the fancy chairs.

  He squared his shoulders and turned toward the door. “Let’s get back to the table. Keep up your end of the bargain tonight. I don’t need you blaming me if we don’t seal the deal.”

  Her lips parted like she wanted to say more, but it was too late. He should have known better with her. An unfamiliar feeling of disappointment shot through him but he shook it off.

  Showtime.

  4

  Phoebe smoothed down her skirt on the silent march back to the ballroom. What the hell had just happened? And how could she ever look at a black leather wingback chair again without remembering just what the hell happened in the wine cave with Rafael.

  What if one of their clients had wandered in looking for them and found her straddling her colleague with her dress up around her waist? Oh hey, Ella and Mike, give us a moment so Rafael can orgasm too. We work really closely over at Trident.

  She exhaled an unsteady breath. Pull it together, girl. She’d worked her tail off since junior high school to build her prestigious career and in one reckless moment she could have jeopardized her reputation as a levelheaded businesswoman. She side-eyed Rafael, who stalked like a panther along next to her, his jaw tight and his hair mussed.

  Not that he would suffer the same consequences. Although to be fair, Mr. MacDonald probably had not anticipated them jumping from competitive co-workers to steamy sex partners.

  Neither had she.

  But Rafael had seemed confident their extreme PDA was a prelude to a one-night stand tonight. Another notch in his bedpost. Granted, she’d been right there along with him, aroused beyond measure by his bossiness and take-charge hands and mouth. A burst of heat pooled in her belly––like a mind-blowing orgasm flashback. No doubt, the next step would have been him bending her over the black leather chair if they hadn’t been interrupted.

  She could admit that much to herself. Just as she admitted she’d fantasized about him back in graduate school, and well maybe once or twice since she’d joined the firm. The reality of Rafael Cruz blew her sensual daydreams out of the water. Their chemistry was combustible, but purely physical. Right?

  She could shield herself against animal attraction, but his obvious love for his family, his agile mind, and genuine niceness had taken her by surprise. Created a chink in her armor against him. During dinner, her protective shell had slipped.

  Time to tuck away every single emotion into her impenetrable vault and reinforce her defenses. Rafael had accused her of being able to flip from hot to cold in the blink of an eye. He wasn’t wrong. One thing she’d learned in her cutthroat career was to always compartmentalize everything not needed in the present moment. Professional and personal.

  Because she was the same as every woman he’d hooked up with––a temporary physical fling that meant absolutely nothing. And she’d seen some of the women he’d been photographed with and although she was confident, she’d never be able to compete with the petite curvy beach babes he seemed to favor. Not that she wanted to compete to become the next flavor of the month. Not that she’d ever once hoped he’d notice her back in graduate school or at the firm.

  Nope, not her.

  Her pleasant wine buzz had dissolved, a staccato beat thumping in her temples replacing it. Talk about a major wake-up call. She drew up to her full height and dug into her usually bottomless well of composure. Time to finish out the evening strong.

  Nobody would ever suspect what just happened between her and Rafael.

  No way would she allow her guard to slip around Rafael Cruz again.

  At the entrance to the bustling ballroom, Phoebe caught Rafael’s arm, and attempted to ignore the immediate sparks dancing up her skin. “The speaker starts in a few minutes, so we should be good. If everyone wants to chat afterwards, let’s move into our divide and conquer strategy with the Samuels and the Levines.”

  He flicked his dark gaze at her, his warm chocolate eyes frozen into obsidian chips. “Perfect. And don’t forget to turn on your warm switch again so the clients don’t get frozen out too.”

  She rolled her eyes and softened her jaw, which had tensed from gritting her teeth. “Ha ha. You’re so funny. Nothing is different––that’s crystal clear. Let’s do this.”

  They sauntered back to the table together, two colleagues enjoying a holiday soiree.

  “There you two are––what were you up to? We were beginning to worry you’d snuck off to kiss under the mistletoe.” Mr. Harmon winked at them from across the table.

  Phoebe’s breath caught in her throat. “Not exactly. We just needed to...” She paused and swallowed away the bitter taste in her mouth, “clarify a few business matters.”

  “Uh-oh, all work and no play. Cliff better watch out or you two will be running the firm.” Mr. Blake toasted them with his wineglass. “They brought around some excellent port, you should call the server over to make sure you get to try it.”

  Rafael and Phoebe answered simultaneously. “Not for me.”

  Phoebe’s gaze flicked toward Rafael, who continued to smile at their guests and ignore her, despite their joint unplanned response. So, he also didn’t want to risk another sip of inhibition-lowering alcohol either.

  Her belly twisted. Although Mr. Harmon’s comment was joking, her swollen lips and scattered emotions were real. If they only knew.

  Please never let anyone find out.

  They both sat down. Earlier the space between them had felt electrically charged. Heated. Now, an icy wall of reserve divided them, as solid as the brick-lined wall of the wine cave. Fine. It was better this way.

  She turned her attention to Sasha. Time to revert back to her comfort zone––business mode. Although all she wanted to do was run home and crawl into her bed and bury her head under a pillow or ten. She had the attention span of a hummingbird right now and somehow her usual ease in making conversation had evaporated. Every syllable was a struggle.

  In a stroke of fortuitous timing, the charity’s chairman stepped onto the stage and tapped the microphone. Phoebe sighed in relief. Now she could simply sit here and listen to the speech and stories of hope and healing and stop being worried about her self-induced problems.

  There were people at the event tonight who had lost loved ones or battled this terrible disease and that was what the Jingle Balls ball was truly about. Raising money for a cure and honoring those lost and bolstering up those in the fight. Her petty issues about securing a new client or getting half-naked with her co-worker needed to move to the backseat. She’d do well to remember that.

  Rafe fought to tune out the fresh scent of her hair. She’d tossed her silky curls over one shoulder and angled her body toward the stage once the speakers began. Although her Ice Queen persona was back, just as he should have known before the fluke in the wine cave, he couldn’t seem to ignore her now. Damn it. She shifted again in her seat and––oh shit––she had a big fat strawberry of a hickey at the base of her throat. He shifted in his seat at the visceral reminder of just how delectable she’d tasted.

  But if he could see the distinctive mark leaping off her pale creamy skin, that meant everyone else could too. She’d flip out if he tried to move her hair to cover the evidence of their tryst, but he had to do something. She’d never forgive him if one o
f the clients noticed and she’d made a good point––finance was a boys’ club. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t try to protect her hard-earned reputation.

  He casually sipped his water and checked to ensure the rest of the table’s focus was on the speaker. He’d be discreet. He lightly tapped her with his elbow to get her attention. She jumped in her seat, apparently not as composed as she looked. She tilted her head toward him and shushed him, her arctic gray eyes narrowed. He held up a finger before she turned her back on him again.

  He leaned in and whispered, “Adjust your hair to cover your neck. Act natural.”

  She sucked in a breath and her eyes widened. “What?”

  “Move your hair forward and keep it there. Trust me.” Why couldn’t she just do as he asked? She’d been eager enough to follow his directions earlier.

  And damn it, just seeing her lips swollen from his kisses, and the mark he’d given her and bam––he was rock hard again. She was so close and now he was painfully aware she wore nothing underneath her gown. The memory of her passionate response was too recent. The temptation to see if she’d react the same way again taunted his self-control despite her frosty demeanor.

  Time to start reciting mathematical formulas in his head, like he’d done as a teenager. What was it about this frustrating woman that challenged his self-control? Most of the women he dated were attractive and successful, but he’d never experienced surges of possessiveness or protectiveness like he had in just a few hours with Phoebe. Learning they both had been the first in their families to pursue ivy league educations, had both busted their butts to earn and maintain scholarships, and were both on equal footing at the firm made the physical chemistry more powerful. Taking the time to unravel Phoebe Hollingsworth’s many layers would be like painstakingly unwrapping a highly anticipated Christmas present.