Wintertime Love: A Christmas Billionaire Small Town Romance (Holiday Series Book 2)

by Emelia Blair

  I look around myself at the number of boxes that are seemingly in some order but I can’t make heads or tails out of the system. “I’m supposed to be looking for the Christmas decorations.”

  “Oh, you’re going to start decorating the diner?” He sounds delighted. “Need a hand?” Even as he asks, he’s entering the attic.

  Finn looks good in any color but in black, he looks all kinds of sexy and dangerous. It’s a deadly combination and I stare at him for a few minutes, robbed of all speech.

  When he smirks, I’m knocked out of my daze, and I put on my customary scowl. “You do realize that guests are not allowed up here?”

  “Oh.” He looks around in interest, completely disregarding what I’m saying. “All right. So, where do we start?”

  Why do I even try?

  “Don’t you have things to do?” I ask as we start looking for the two cardboard boxes. “Ever since you got here, I haven’t seen you do any kind of work. You’re always lazing around.”

  “I’m wooing a grumpy barista,” he says from behind some boxes. “That’s a job in itself.”

  “Hey!” I say, offended. “I’m a business owner.”

  “Of course, the grumpy part doesn’t offend your sensibilities,” he intones, dryly.

  “I prefer ‘level headed’.”

  “Darlin’, there is nothing level headed about you.” He grins at me.

  At this smart aleck shot, I grin back.

  Stacy is managing the diner today so I’m not really worried. I’m thinking of giving her a Christmas bonus. The girl has been a massive help this season. But then, she always is.

  Finn does more poking around, satisfying his curiosity than being helpful.

  When he drags out a large black trunk, I glance over. “That’s the family crest. Don’t mess with that. Aunt Vee will kill you.”

  He sits down, cross-legged, in front of it and looks at me, his eyes gleaming like those of a five year old’s who’s discovered a treasure map. “Say, Clara. Does your family line really have witch blood in it?”

  I raise my brow at him. “Don’t tell me you believe in witches?”

  “I’m Irish. I believe in a lot more than witches, luv.”

  I rifle through one of the boxes. “Good for you then.”

  “You still didn’t answer my question. Are you a witch?” He probes.

  I have to prevent myself from rolling my eyes at his excitement even as a smile tugs at my lips. “That’s not what you asked.”

  “Can you curse somebody? Have you ever turned somebody into a toad?”

  I shrug. “I neither admit nor deny that. But I will tell you that when I was high school, Macy Laxon threw my bag into the fountain and she went missing for three hours and there were reports of a toad in the chemistry lab.”

  Finn halts. “You’re making that up.”

  “It really happened.”

  “You-?” He gapes at me.

  I give him a coy look. “Who said I did anything?”

  “But she…?” He trails off, looking both horrified and delighted.

  This is so much fun. Who knew that Finn would be a believer of the supernatural? I decide to add fuel to the fire and sighing, I continue, “She still walks the other way whenever she sees me coming.”

  Finn stares at me, and if he had a tail, I’m pretty sure it would be wagging right now with excitement.

  I hide my grin. He can be so adorable at times.

  He studies the chest before him with sparkling eyes. “Can I open this?”

  “Aunt Vee will kill you,” I warnin a sing-song voice. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “But that’s not a no, either,” he points out, a broad smile on his lips.

  I shrug, knowing exactly what he’ll find in there. “Just so you know if anyone who doesn’t have Winter blood running in their veins opens that chest…” My tone is sly. “…it’s said that they are cursed by our ancestors.” Then, I deliberately turn my back on him. “But that’s probably just an old story.”

  I don’t hear anything from behind me for a moment.

  Finn then reluctantly drags the chest back into its original place. He looks regretful, casting longing glances towards it as he helps me search for the box I’m looking for.

  I pretend not to notice but I can imagine him as a young boy filled with unbridled curiosity, always on the search for adventure. I didn’t think that I could find him even more endearing than I already do but the more time I end up spending with him, the more I find myself slipping deeper into this pit that I can’t seem to crawl out of.

  “Is this it?” Finn asks after a half hour of fruitless searching.

  I walk over and see him pulling out two large boxes that belong to me. I sigh with relief. “Finally. Thanks. I owe you for –“

  I freeze when he turns to me with an unholy smile at my words, my sentence trailing off.

  “Another date,” he says, immediately. “I want another date. A proper one where you don’t blow me off at then end of it.”

  “Can’t I just give you a free meal at the diner?” I ask, my protest sounding weak even to my ears.

  “No…” He steps towards me.

  I take a step back.

  “I want a date. Just you and me after hours, at your diner.”

  I blink at the request. “That’s not much of a date.”

  A stubborn look passes across his handsome face.

  Finally, I relent. “I mean, yeah. Let’s do that.”

  Why do I feel like the glint in his eyes isn’t very reassuring?

  The next day, I plan to start decorating the diner once the rush dies down but it’s surprisingly busy. I’m running around the whole day. A surprise catering order also shows up and I can’t turn it down because it’s from one of Aunt Helen’s friends. So, Stacy is manning the front while I cook in the kitchen.

  I don’t see Finn the whole day and I don’t know why that makes me feel so disappointed but it just adds a little bit of gloominess to my day. I saw him this morning but he didn’t accompany me on my morning run, as he is prone to doing. Instead, he chose to sit with my aunts who were also awake for a change so early in the morning. And by the time I got back, he was gone.

  A call from Aunt Vee in the evening has me delegating the tasks at the diner and rushing home to help her with the sudden rush of customers. She’s usually very organized but today, she’s all out of sorts. It takes me a few hours to get done and when I’m on the road back to the diner, I get a call from Aunt Helen’s friend, who I’m catering for. The food has arrived at her house but she needs me to help arrange it into dishes and set it up.

  Sighing, I turn the car around and go all the way to the other side of town.

  It’s past closing time when I finally arrive at the diner, tired and irritated. I want to drop off some things and then I’ll probably start on the decorations.

  I enter through the back door and turn on the lights in the kitchen. The kitchen has been thoroughly cleaned, the countertops gleaming, the sinks sparkling. Shrugging out of my jacket, I wonder if one of my aunts has been by. Only they clean with this much obsessiveness.

  A soft sound from the exterior makes me frown.

  Everyone should be gone by now.

  I dump my bag on the island counter and make my way towards the kitchen door.

  I see the soft glow through the viewing window of the swinging door before I push it open to reveal all the tables and chairs pushed to the side. One table is in the center, covered with a red and white checkered cloth, with two tall candles, that I recognize from the house, lit up, providing a soft glow to the room. There are two covered dishes on the table, and a slender vase with three red roses. I hear the smooth jazz in the background. Finally, I register the man standing next to the table, watching me with a quiet intensity.

  I step out of the kitchen, drinking in the sight of him wearing a suit with a waistcoat, his sleeves rolled up, looking so fucking hot that for a second, I consider where
to sink my teeth in. His hair is carelessly ruffled but it makes him look even sexier, especially the way the candlelight makes his eyes gleam like that of a wolf.

  “Finn,” I murmur, helplessly. “What is this?”

  He steps towards me and takes my hand. “Did you forget our date?”

  I am guided to the table and I can do nothing but sit still as he unwinds my muffler from around my neck, his fingers deliberately scraping against my skin, making me tremble.

  “We never decided when it would be,” I respond, feeling his hand bracket around my neck and feeling so utterly powerless as he presses down, forcing me to look up at him. There’s something different about him today, as he tilts my head back and I meet his gaze. There’s a look of raw hunger in his gaze and I know that tonight, I’ll give in to him.

  Weeks of trying to fight him and tonight my last bit of resistance is crumbling into nothingness, and from the look in Finn’s eyes, he knows it.

  “I decided for us,” he tells me in a low voice.

  My eyes flutter shut, unable to take in the way he’s watching me.

  He lowers his head and takes my mouth in a kiss that is slow and sensuous as it is sexual. It’s a languid mesh of tongues and teeth where he dominates it and I let him… a prelude to what’s going to come later on.

  When he releases me, my breathing is harsh and he has yet to let go of my throat. He watches me, hungrily, and I feel the slickness between my legs. He finally lets go and I nearly let out a whimper, missing the warmth of his hand and the feeling that it’s lack of presence has taken away from me.

  “I got your favorite dishes,” he informs me, taking his place across from me. “Your aunts were most willing to help out by keeping you out of here.”

  I don’t even have it in me to be angry that I was dragged across town just so he could set this up here. Honestly, it’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. Nobody has ever put in this much effort for me and my heart is filled with an emotion that I can’t name.

  He uncovers the dishes and there’s soft flame flickering underneath. A spicy chicken curry with boiled rice and grilled potatoes, served with a bottle of red vintage wine that I know came from our cellar. It’s an aged one, and one that is usually reserved for special occasions. I don’t know how he got Aunt Vee to agree to use it.

  He pours us both a glass.

  I take it from him and sip at it, after swirling it in the glass. “This is eighty years old,” I tell him. “They must really like you to let you bring this one out. I wasn’t even allowed this when I started the diner.”

  Finn winks at me. “I can be very persuasive.”

  “You just pretend you don’t know what the word ‘no’ means,” I say, wryly.

  In that wolfish way of his, he grins at me. “And it’s every effective. But this time, I didn’t even have to ask. They brought this one out themselves and handed it to me.”

  His words make me still and I take another sip of the wine, trying to hide how flustered I suddenly am. For my aunts to do something like this, that means they really like Finn. Like more so than anyone I’ve known. “Who cooked this?” I ask, changing the subject and poking at the chicken with my fork.

  Finn smiles, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “I did. Helen stood over my shoulder and told me what to do.”

  “You cooked for me?” I asked, stunned.

  Another precedent.

  “She taste tested it and she would only let me out of the kitchen once it was perfect. I spent the entire day just cooking and failing and then cooking all over again.” Finn doesn’t look the least bit upset by how he’s wasted his entire day.

  I look down at the food with a renewed gaze. I pick up a forkful of rice and chicken and bring it to my lips. Even if it tasted like crap, I would still have found it to be the best tasting dish in the world. However, it is delicious, bursting with spices and flavor. It’s different from how Aunt Helen makes it but equally mouthwatering if not more so. “Thank you.” I smile slightly. “You really put a lot of thought into this.”

  Once he sees that I’m not finding fault with his food, Finn relaxes. “Anything for you, Darlin’. Considering how bad our last date went, I wanted this to be one that you remember.”

  I glance down at my feet with a wry smile on my face. “Well, my feet are aching enough for me to remember it for a while.”

  He waggles his brows. “Ever had a foot rub on a date?”

  I stare at him. “Absolutely not!”

  But an hour later, I’ve lost once again as I’m leaning against the arm of the couch in my office while Finn has my foot in his grasp and his expert fingers take out each hurt and ache.

  He murmurs, “You’ve got such delicate feet.” He pulls on my big toe.

  I glare at him. “Stop that.”

  “Why?” He grins, cheekily, doing it again.

  I try to kick him and he grabs my ankle and yanks.

  Suddenly, I’m lying on the couch and the look in his eyes has changed from playful to that of a predator who is ready to devour me.

  My lower region tightens. I’m wearing thin stockings under my long skirt and suddenly I feel exposed to his hot gaze. “F-Finn,” I stammer out his name.

  He runs his eyes over me as if I belong to him and he has every right to do so. His hands crawl up my legs, caressing, squeezing, bit gentle.

  I open my mouth to let out some protest but nothing comes out. Even when his hands are not touching my skin, I feel their pressures the way my skin tingles from the very shape of them.

  Finn doesn’t move, just running his hands up my legs, contentedly, luring me into a false state of calm.

  “What are you doing?” I ask my mouth dry as I notice how my skirt is inching up, bit by bit.

  “Marveling how lovely your legs are,” he says, softly. “All lean and slim. I love watching you walk, your hips swaying behind you. You’ve got that kind of ass on you that’s begging to be broken in.”

  His words cause heat to rush to my cheeks and I know I should feel a little indignant but I can’t bring myself to feel anything aside from the restlessness his touch is bringing me.

  “Nothing to say?” He taunts me.

  As I open my mouth to make a retort, his hand is suddenly cupping my clothed pussy and I jerk forward in shock, my inner muscles clamping in need. Finn smiles, it’s not an arrogant smile but a propriety one, as he says, softly, grinding his heel into my clit, making my legs twitch helplessly, “You’ve been really mean to me, lately, Darlin’. Don’t you think that garners a little punishment?”

  “No,” I half gasp out. I can barely handle what he’s doing to me right now. How am I supposed to survive what his punishment will entail?

  “I think it does,” he says, thoughtfully, grinding his hand ever harder, making my back arch as I let out an involuntary moan.

  I’m completely at his mercy right now and the bastard knows it.

  “Spread your legs,” he orders and I hesitate, making him raise his brows. He leans forward and with his other hand, grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his calm gaze. “Darlin’, when I tell you to do something, I expect it to be done. You can boss men around all you like outside of the bedroom but in here, I don’t like being disobeyed.”

  His words make my nipples harden, painfully so, and I know he can see them through the sheer white material of my blouse. His smile is apparent. “If your friends could see you now, the fierce independent Clara, so submissive when I put my hands on her. What would they think?”

  My lips tremble and my mind is slowly growing blank the way he keep rubbing against my clit. His words are drifting in and getting me even hotter.

  He releases my jaw and then delivers a sharp slap top the outside of my thigh. “Spread your legs.”

  This time, I obey mindlessly, my hips moving against the heel of his hand, soft helpless sounds escaping my throat as he drives me insane by rubbing against that sensitive nub through my underwear.

  “So,
Clara…” He leans down, his breath hot on my lips as he asks, calmly. “Will you be a good girl or do I have to discipline you?”

  I might be on the verge of having what might probably be the most erotic orgasm of my life, but my fighting spirit is very much still intact, and I rebelliously glare at him even as my chest heaves with the effort, “Look, you- Aaah!” The gasp is torn out of me as my back arches when he presses hard. “Finn!” My inner muscles convulse as he ruthlessly forces me into an orgasm that has my toes curling and my back arching. But there is nothing to grip onto and despite the fact that I am a still reeling from it, my push feels empty, bereft.

  A hand strokes my hair back and Finn’s amused eyes come into my vision. “Are you going to listen to me now?”

  He wants me to give up control. I’ve never given up control in the bedroom before. It’s always been a game of equality. But here he is, this wild eyed Irishman who is demanding that I surrender to him, give up pride and rigid self control and be his tonight.

  His fiery eyes study mine, unfazed.

  I want to. I want to let go of all the pressures facing me over these past few weeks and let him do what he wants. I want to stop thinking for a while, to stop having to make decisions for just a while.

  But I don’t know how to do it.

  I cling to the edges of my pride, feeling embarrassed and yet wanting this.

  Finn gazes at my helpless confusion and then he trails his fingers down the side of my face, almost lovingly. “It’s not that hard, luv. It’s just you and me, here.” His fingers trace my collarbones, moving down to cup my right breast, fondling it, squeezing the pebbled nipple that’s jutting out proudly. “We can do whatever we like here. It’s just us.”

  His words are soothing and yet his hands are driving me crazy. One hand starts unfurling my stockings, taking them off gently, and tossing them to the side. His hands run over my smooth legs, and then he’s pulling off my underwear while my hips raise automatically, letting him tug them off.

  I have always been an aggressive lover but right now I find myself acting like a virgin who has no idea what to do or how to behave. I know that with Finn, this will be explosive, mind blowing. But that means I have to give in.