Billionaire Romance Series: Dreams Fulfilled (1-3)

by Scarlett King

  He has the time, cash, and energy to double his father’s food donation early—and yet, right on time. He has just the kind of odd sense of humor, paired with a huge list of friends and the connections necessary, to see that our morning food distribution wakes up everyone early so they’ll have to witness the prank—his prank? —in town. The big weirdo may also have the world’s only bulk mistletoe hook-up—he probably got a reference from his father.

  I have to hand it to the both of them about the donation part, at least. Most rich New Yorkers are alarmingly self-interested. But not those two. They’re going above and beyond to spread the Christmas cheer—and maybe some kisses—this year.

  I turn to eye Aaron speculatively as he comes back out with mugs of coffee in each fist. He hands one to my father, who thanks him a little stiffly, and then comes over to me...slowing down with a look of mild worry on his face. “What?”

  I smile with all the innocence. “Nothing.”

  Chapter 3

  Aaron

  * * *

  Sweet little Julia is up to something, I can just tell. She’s smiling too much, and she’s looking at me with this mischievous expression that leaves me just a bit concerned.

  * * *

  Julia doesn’t know how to flirt, and I thank God for that, because if she ever really came on to me, she would have me wrapped around her little finger in an instant. Hell, I’d be happy about it.

  * * *

  Her father, on the other hand, would probably drive me out of the church like I fucked the Virgin Mary. And besides, there’s one thing about me that he’s right about: I don’t deserve someone as pure and hot and full of life as Julia. If she thinks that I do, she’s selling herself short.

  * * *

  But a guy can dream, right? As long as I remember that all I’m gonna be doing is dreaming.

  We make it to one in the afternoon before we run into our first glitch, which is amazing given the huge amount of food we have to sort and pass out in a short time. But when things finally go wrong, they do it in a big way.

  * * *

  “What do you mean, we’ve lost track? How much food got loaded downstairs?” Poor Reverend Alderson is managing to keep his voice quiet, but his eyes show that he’s ready to tear out his own hair. Poor guy. He might have a stick up his ass, but he doesn’t deserve stress in return for his kindness.

  * * *

  Julia and I exchange glances and she gives me a nod. We both hover around while the crisis unfolds, ready to step in.

  * * *

  The bearer of bad news is Tomxmy, a kid who works at the gas station. He’s a little bear of a guy in Coke-bottle glasses, who squirms at the note of desperation in the Reverend’s voice. “Um, well...enough that we’re having trouble opening the doors.”

  * * *

  “But we haven’t even finished unloading the truck...?” He looks into the back of the delivery truck, from which boxes are still coming out, and over at all the volunteers’ cars, which have all done at least three trips around the county and are loaded to the gills again. “How did they fit it all? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this is almost too much of a good thing!”

  * * *

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” Julia speaks up, walking over and offering to take his laptop. “I’ll go down to the storeroom and tally things up. I’ll just need some help getting the door open.”

  * * *

  He relinquishes the laptop. “You’re sure? I have no idea what it’s like down there right now—it might be a total mess.”

  * * *

  “I’ll manage.” She looks over at me. “C’mon, I may need some help shuffling some of the stacks of boxes around. The truck’s almost empty. Everyone else can take it from here.”

  * * *

  I nod and trail her inside, trying not to walk too close. Too much of that, and I know I’ll be in trouble again. I can’t be of use with the food distribution if I’m stumbling around with boner-brain.

  * * *

  “You know, I know it’s stressing Dad, but having so much donated food that we lose track of it all is a pretty good inconvenience.” We head through the kitchen and into the hallway, which is narrow and floored with peeling linoleum. I mentally add that to my repair list.

  * * *

  I nod agreement as we head for the freight elevator at the end of the hall. Too many times, especially these days, food drives scratch along on almost nothing. “You said it. But directing the whole event still has to be stressful for him.”

  * * *

  “Always. He’s too rigid and stuck in routines for his own good—big changes always stress him out.” She stops in front of the elevator and I pull the lever, unlatching the pull-down safety gate and shoving it upward. She ducks in ahead of me. “Thank you, sir.”

  * * *

  “You’re welcome, ma’am.” There’s that smile I can’t fight again.

  * * *

  The elevator’s roomy and dim, with a high ceiling. There’s an odd, spicy green smell hanging around the air in the place. It’s a little familiar, but I can’t place it. Has someone donated a bunch of mustard greens to go with the other stuff in the fridges downstairs?

  On her way in, Julia pauses for just a moment, and I hear her let out a little laugh before she continues inside, as if she’s just thought of something—or noticed something. I step in after her and close the gate. “So,” she says suddenly as I’m reaching to throw the lever and send us down, “you know all that mistletoe Dad says he removed from the church?”

  * * *

  I pause, the naughty tone in her voice startling me, and look back at her. “Yeah?”

  * * *

  She reaches past me and pulls the lever, closing the door on us and sending the elevator rumbling slowly downward. “He missed a sprig.”

  * * *

  I look down at her and see her wide grin as she steps closer...and then look up, straight at a bundle of mistletoe hanging right above me. Crap.

  * * *

  I freeze, knowing what is about to happen and almost dreading it, knowing as well that I can’t stop her—I don’t want to. She presses her body into me, the pleasure of it mixing with a searing hunger as I fight not to grab hold of her. Her lips brush against mine and her arms slip around my neck as she clings to me.

  * * *

  She kisses me with a mix of sensuality and tenderness that melts my heart and brings my cock fully awake in seconds. Aching, I groan against her mouth, feeling my whole body respond involuntarily while my free will floats away on a cloud of bliss.

  * * *

  Holy shit. Oh my God. I’m in trouble.

  * * *

  I don’t care.

  * * *

  Why did I ever hold back from kissing her? I have never felt anything so right in my life. It’s sweeter than my first breath of free air.

  * * *

  I pull her closer, feeling her squirm against me, her full breasts rubbing against my chest through her layers of clothing while her tongue teases its way into my mouth. I can hear the low, starved groans vibrating through my throat as I respond, a wave of sensual hunger running from my toes to the tip of my head.

  * * *

  I have to have her. Now. Right now.

  * * *

  Wait, what am I doing? I gently pull away, and she makes a small, disappointed noise in her throat.

  * * *

  When I finally get control of myself, I stare down at her in amazement. “Julia...what are you doing?”

  * * *

  “What I’ve wanted to do for more than a year,” she replies with a wicked grin.

  * * *

  “Baby, we really shouldn’t—” I start, and she simply moves closer, laying a slim, warm finger against my lips.

  * * *

  “Shhhh.”

  * * *

  I’m doomed.

  * * *

  The elevator rattles to a stop, and we’re kissing again, and we stand there wrapped up in each
other for so long that I lose track of why we’re down here. She’s so soft, so warm...so fragrant. So perfect.

  I try to be gentle. But again, she’s not making it easy. She presses into me with the eager and slightly clumsy enthusiasm of someone totally new to kissing. The realization that she probably is—that I might be the first to ever feel her this way—only turns me on even more.

  * * *

  But then, before either of us can catch our breath or say anything about what has just happened, there’s a heavy clunk, and the elevator starts rising again. What?

  * * *

  The hairs on the back of my neck start prickling and I let her go, breathing hard, moving back against the wall of the elevator while she wipes her mouth and steps back as well. Someone’s called the elevator and will be joining us in a moment.

  * * *

  The outer door rumbles up as we come to a stop, and my heart sinks into my boots. The Reverend’s standing there, scowling at us both.

  Chapter 4

  Julia

  * * *

  The kiss was everything I had hoped for. Especially when I realized how enthusiastically Aaron was returning my kiss—he must have been crushing on me even harder than I was on him. I lied when I said that I had only wanted to kiss him for a year.

  * * *

  It’s been over two years. Since the first day I saw him. I went to bed that night wondering what his mouth would taste like.

  * * *

  Now I know. He tastes like coffee and mint, and mixed with his warm, musky male scent in my nostrils, he’s intoxicating. Knowing only makes me want more.

  * * *

  When he steps away from me I’m so dizzy and keyed up that his sudden absence against my body hurts like a missing limb. But a split second later, I realize that someone has called the elevator, and we are about to have company.

  Crap. I wipe my mouth and move back against the wall, catching my breath. I definitely need some real privacy before I try this mistletoe trick again.

  * * *

  The laptop’s on the floor. I can’t remember whether I set it there or dropped it, but I snatch it up and check it. No damage.

  * * *

  Then the gate opens, and I see that it’s Dad—standing there with his arms folded.

  * * *

  Shit shit shit—

  * * *

  I give him a smile. I’m not actually doing anything wrong, after all. But overprotective fathers have to be reassured sometimes. “Hi Dad! Did you forget something?”

  * * *

  “I thought I would come down here and help you tally,” he replies after a moment of staring suspiciously at the two of us. I feel my heart clench—but after a few moments he relaxes and holds out his hand for his laptop. “If a room that large is full of supplies, then it’s not a two-person job.”

  “That’s true enough, Reverend,” Aaron responds with a touch of relief in his eyes. For a moment, I feel guilty. But then I remember how he shook when I kissed him, and how his whole huge, solid body turned to putty in my hands.

  * * *

  Oh no. We’re definitely not done with this. I smile to myself before looking up at my dad and nodding. “Let’s get started, then.”

  * * *

  Aaron and I settle back into our friendly rapport for the rest of the afternoon. By the end of it, we’re stocked up, and so is everyone on our donation list. We’re also both exhausted and sore.

  * * *

  “I gotta get a shower before my shift,” Aaron groans, stretching and rolling his massive shoulders. For just a moment, he shoots me a smoldering glance, which tells me he wishes I would join him. But being Aaron, he’s back to not saying a thing.

  * * *

  Probably because dear old Dad planted himself right beside us after he found us in the elevator, watching us both like a very irritated hawk in a clerical collar for the rest of the afternoon. Dad doesn’t miss much. I know I’m in for a lecture when we get home. He’s out of bounds, but I’ll have to take it anyway, because he loves me, and he’s too stressed right now for me to fight it.

  * * *

  But that kiss...it told me everything. I hadn’t been deceiving myself. The guy I’ve been waiting for has been waiting for me, too. My dad will have to find a way to cope with that eventually. I just don’t want him to deal with it now.

  * * *

  I also don’t want to deal with him dealing with it now. I can only imagine the tidal wave of drama that will be set loose once I finally tell him my intentions—to be with Aaron forever… It’s the damn holidays. I’m tired, I’m in love, and I want to be happy. I also want Dad to be happy.

  * * *

  Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

  * * *

  Unfortunately, he’s already suspecting something. When I finally get home, shower, and get into my purple sweatpants and a giant, pink flannel shirt, he’s very quiet as he heats up the lasagna I fixed for tonight.

  * * *

  He hasn’t turned on his jazz station. That’s a huge red flag—I’m definitely in for a lecture.

  * * *

  I come down the narrow stairs with a little sigh, looking out each of the little windows lining the stairway as I pass them. Our house sits behind the church, a tall, slim Victorian half hidden in the trees. Like a lot of buildings up here, it’s painted white with green trim and a red door. Unlike a lot of buildings up here, it’s surrounded by gravestones from the churchyard.

  * * *

  It makes for an interesting view as the sun sets and the snowflakes swirl down. Just that Nightmare Before Christmas touch that I like best.

  * * *

  I prepare myself mentally as I walk. All my life, Dad’s been overprotective of me. But once we lost Mom, he got...brittle.

  * * *

  Before then, his portrayal of the stick-up-the-ass minister had a humorous edge that was gentled by my Mom’s presence. But now, it’s like part of him has frozen over, making him cold and stiff, and too easy to snap. I handle him carefully, not just because I hate the drama, but because I realize that these days, drama’s really not good for him.

  * * *

  I wish Mom was here.

  * * *

  Mom would have loved Aaron. Her dad used to be a Hells Angel before he settled down and started his own motorcycle garage back in California. Grandpa took me riding a few times when I was tiny, and I remember Mom laughing as I squealed with delight, while at the same time, Dad fluttered his hands slightly and made small, nervous protests.

  * * *

  I’ve always wished that I could run off on some adventure on a motorcycle, like Mom once did, before I’d have to do the responsible thing and settle in for church duties and seminary. But losing Mom meant that someone had to step in and help Dad, at least part time. That’s what I do now, when I’m in town, and over the phone or online when I’m in Buffalo.

  * * *

  It’s good practice for the job I want: taking over this place and letting my Dad enjoy his retirement. He’ll still volunteer his head off, of course. But once I’m the one wearing the collar around here, I can shoo him off to his books and jazz when he gets too overwhelmed.

  * * *

  Dad knows I’m an adult and has seen what I can do, but he just can’t back off with his hovering and protectiveness. I know why, so I don’t normally complain much.

  * * *

  His head’s still full of nightmares over Mom’s loss. He’s scared to lose me, too. Of course, I understand.

  * * *

  But sometimes, trying to fight against his overprotective fears makes me crazy with frustration. Thus, I take a couple of minutes to focus myself before joining him in the dining room.

  * * *

  “You did good work today,” he starts off, as I settle into my seat across from his. Dad always starts and ends serious discussions with the positive, so we start with our ears open and end without wanting to keep yelling at each other.

  * * *

&n
bsp; “It needed to be done. Besides, it was just amazing. Everyone’s fridge will be full well before the storm.”