Dear Santa: A Bad Boy Christmas Romance

by Lulu Pratt

  Seventeen

  LILAH

  The view from up here is breathtaking. I feel like I’m suspended on a cloud high above the bustling chaos taking place below us.

  City lights shine bright, illuminating the dark sky instead of the twinkling stars I’m used to back home in Connecticut.

  Andrew finds it mind boggling that I’ve lived in close proximity to a city like this my entire life and I’ve never truly explored it as an adult. I tell him that the trips with my mom stopped around middle school.

  As I grew older, I never felt compelled to venture here on my own. Well, scratch that. I felt plenty compelled but there was never enough time. Or money, for that matter.

  My head was always buried in a book or I was too busy putting extra hours at the local diner to save for college.

  New York City was always on my to-do list, but then the months melted into years…

  “That’s too bad,” Andrew says at the end of my spiel. “We’ll have to come back and do it the right way then.”

  My thoughts take a dangerous turn at his off-handed remark and I stare at him open-mouthed. He doesn’t seem to think anything of it while he stares back at me with that trademark smirk of his in place.

  I hate the little dance my heart is doing at the moment because it’s a tale-tell sign that I’m getting my hopes up. Something I promised myself I wouldn’t do.

  His words make it seem like he plans to stick around for a while and something about that is both comforting and disturbing.

  I can’t get attached to a man like Andrew, although I suspect it’s already too late. There’s no telling how long his attention span will allow him to linger on me.

  The pessimist in me wonders how much time I have before he inevitably grows bored. Nothing about me is glamorous or easy and most men I come in contact with don’t linger once they figure that out.

  What’s driving Andrew to stick around? I wish I could read his mind.

  “I can’t believe you whisked me off to New York City on a Wednesday night,” I tell him, deciding it’s best to move on and change the subject.

  We’re sitting in lounge chairs, surrounded by nothing but open space. I thank my lucky stars that I’m not afraid of heights because our elevation would be cause for panic.

  Andrew’s languid form is sprawled out in his chair as he stares out at the adjacent building. Before we sat down, he pushed our chairs together until there was no space between them.

  When we were seated, he pulled my feet onto his lap and began massaging them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Why did things end between the two of you?”

  Perplexed, I sit up a little in my chair and look at him.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask right back.

  “You and the guy who was eye-fucking you at the supermarket. Why did things end between you?” His naturally deep voice is smooth and sends a thrill through my entire being.

  “Oh, Mason?”

  “His name isn’t important. Tell me what happened between you,” he demands and I can hear the rising stiffness in his voice.

  “Why does it matter? We’re not together now. It obviously didn’t work out.”

  “He definitely wants to change that,” Andrew summates evenly. His palm is running up and down my legs, igniting sensuous sparks all over my exposed limbs.

  I’m shaking my head at him before he can go any further.

  “That’s false. We broke up in college because we were better off as friends. Tonight was my first time seeing him in years.”

  It feels weird discussing someone from my past with Andrew. He never struck me as the type who’d be interested in hearing about my previous relationships.

  “He has a girlfriend by the way,” I follow up.

  “And if he didn’t?” Andrew watches me carefully for my response.

  “I’m here with you, aren’t I?” I reply raising a brow. His possessive nature never fails to amaze me.

  “Just making sure I won’t have to fuck anyone up later,” he says calmly.

  My eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets at the way he cloaks those ominous word in such a casual tone. I think he can read my reaction because he goes on to further explain.

  “I don’t share. Plain and simple. If anyone tries to take what’s mine, they’ll regret it before they can complete the fucking thought.”

  Gulping, I remain silent for a beat. Why does being claimed by him feel so wickedly empowering? Not once have I ever wanted to belong to someone so badly.

  He makes the prospect of being his so incredibly tempting it’s to the point where I almost crave it on a visceral level.

  But I need to make sure we’re on the same page first. Because I don’t share either. At least not willingly.

  “What about you? Is there anyone I should know about before this gets too deep?”

  He doesn’t have to tell me he’s surprised by my question because the way his head snaps in my direction is evidence enough.

  “I wouldn’t be here if there was anyone else I wanted, Lilah.” The rare sound of my name falling from his lips is intoxicating. It resonates like a silky, sexy promise every time he utters it.

  Before I can get too swept up in my thoughts, an unwelcome image of Natalia pops up in my head.

  “Not even Natalia?” I hate myself for asking but I have to know.

  Laughter is the last thing I’m expecting as Andrew throws his head back and lets it roll out of him thunderously.

  I’d really love to know what about my question instigated such an obnoxious response. His colossal shoulders are even shaking up and down.

  Annoyed, I try to yank my feet off his lap but his strong hold is unyielding.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, his voice turning dark.

  “What’s so funny? I asked you a serious question,” I grumble lowly, beginning to frown.

  Andrew sobers and replies, “Natalia isn’t a factor. You have nothing to be worried about.”

  “I don’t know, she seemed pretty into you from the way she was practically caressing you that night.” My irritation begins building as I recall it all too vividly.

  His hands still as he processes what I’ve just said and I can tell he’s had an epiphany.

  “Is that why you ran off?”

  My cheeks grow warm at that particular memory assails me.

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe, my ass,” he snickers, shaking his head. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not her type by a long shot.”

  Yeah, right. He’s everybody’s type.

  “There’s a certain piece of my anatomy that she isn’t too fond of. She asks about you every time we speak though. Can’t stop raving about how gorgeous she thinks you are.”

  My mouth is gaping so wide I’m afraid I’ll start attracting flies soon. Andrew just looks on dangerously quiet, until he parts his lips to give me a scintillating warning.

  “I suggest you close your mouth right now if you don’t want me stuffing it with something.”

  It’s my turn to throw my head back and laugh with everything in me.

  I never want this night to end.

  Eighteen

  LILAH

  Yawning, I stare at my screensaver and fight to keep my drooping lids open. I’m tired as all hell after getting in at five in the morning, but if Andrew asked me to do it all over again tonight, I’d probably volunteer to drive this time.

  I’m still daydreaming about the night before when there’s a knock at my office door.

  My hand tightens around the pen in front of me as my shoulders stiffen. I hold my breath and tell the person to come in, fully expecting to see Edward.

  When Charli peeks around the door, flashing her megawatt smile, my sigh of relief is audible.

  She’s picture-perfect and full of sunshine in her white short shorts and crochet top. Her already rich skin tone is even darker thanks to her days by the pool. Huge aviator glasses are
covering her eyes and she’s carrying several bags from our favorite diner on the outskirts of town.

  She loves me.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, getting out of my chair to greet her.

  Hasty pleasantries are made and then I’m rifling through the bags trying to take inventory of all the goodness inside.

  “You drove thirty minutes out of your way to bring me food?!” I ask, my voice overflowing with delight.

  Charli snickers at my excitement and releases the greasy bags into my possession.

  “I figured you could use a break from your sad cup of noodles.”

  “I love you,” I tell her, blowing air kisses before shuttling back to my desk to lay out our spread.

  “Nice digs,” Charli whistles sharply between her teeth. She’s making her way over to my desk much slower because she’s too busy surveying every nook and cranny of my office.

  I watch as she finally takes a seat across from me.

  “You know, for this to be a temporary gig, they really hooked you up.”

  Grunting half-heartedly, I pop the lid off the gooey macaroni and cheese.

  “It’s a little sterile for my taste.”

  In truth, I’d much rather spend my days sequestered in my brightly decorated classroom. Thankfully, my days here are numbered.

  Forty-three more days to be exact. Forty-three days until I’m back in the classroom. Forty-three days until I’ve secured the money to launch my dream on the scale it deserves. Forty-three days until my product is available to teachers across the country and not just my coworkers here in Connecticut.

  Forty-three days isn’t sounding so bad anymore.

  I can do this.

  I have to do this.

  This isn’t just about me.

  “What’s new with you?” I ask before taking my first bite. Recently, every time we meet up I’m the sole topic of discussion. I have no idea how her summer’s going because I always dominate the conversation.

  Charli dives into a story about a guy she met at a yacht party last week. Her eyes light up when she tells me all about how gorgeous and sweet he is.

  “We have a date tonight,” she gushes and the look on her face makes me smile.

  I hope it works out for her. Charli has the worst taste when it comes to men but I’m hoping she’s exiting that phase any day now.

  “Text me after. I want to hear all about it,” I instruct, wiping the corners of my mouth with a napkin.

  I’m so full I can practically burst, but she brought dessert and I’m seriously debating unbuttoning my pants in order to enjoy it comfortably.

  That is until I think about the fact that Edward could pop in at any moment and I don’t want to add any more fuel to his fire. He’s cranky and unbearable enough as it is.

  I’ll just take the strawberry shortcake home and eat it later while I’m binge watching Friends for the millionth time.

  “What about you? How are things going with you and Andrew?” she inquires, leaning back in her chair to give me her full attention.

  “He took me to New York City last night,” I tell her as a secret smile starts at the corners of my mouth and spreads until I’m grinning like a kid in a candy shop.

  “What?!” Charli can’t believe it. “You little sneak! You’re holding out. Tell me everything,” she demands.

  After my brief recap, she narrows her eyes at me and shakes her head. “Ugh, some people get all the luck. How freaking romantic. Are you sure he doesn’t have a brother?”

  Giggling at her antics, I study my manicure until her next observation flies my way.

  “But you still haven’t slept with him,” my friend says astutely.

  Feigning offense, I clutch at my chest. “How do you know that?”

  “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I’ve known you too long. You look completely different after a good lay and I can tell it hasn’t happened yet. What’s the hold up?” she pries, squinting her hazel orbs at me.

  I want to tell her that her guess is as good as mine but I don’t. Even though I’ve been wondering the same damn thing lately.

  Andrew has been nothing but a complete gentleman, which is good on the one hand since I made it clear that there was no sex without love. On the other hand, I’m so anxious to have him inside of me that I’m almost willing to throw caution to the wind and do the damn thing already.

  By the time Charli leaves, it’s going on two.

  Getting back to work, I see that I only have one email. And it’s from Edward.

  He wants me to focus all my energy on getting Andrew to make his first investment. I groan at the prospect of having to talk business with him.

  Every time we try to discuss his account, he finds a way to distract me and break my chain of thought. Admittedly, I’m partially at fault. I could totally put my foot down but I like the diversions a little too much.

  Of course it doesn’t help that he refuses to meet in the office. So he has the home court advantage wherever we go.

  We’ve gotten nowhere with building his portfolio since he signed on with Castle.

  Vowing to change that, I pick up the phone and give him a call.

  “Hi Cupcake,” he drawls after picking up on the second ring. “What are you up to?”

  “Andrew, we need to talk about your account,” I say, cutting right to the chase. If I allow him to derail me early on, I know we’ll never get back on track.

  “What about it?” He doesn’t sound concerned.

  “You came to me for wealth management services and I haven’t exactly managed anything yet,” I point out.

  Andrew only grunts lowly, still seemingly unworried about the situation.

  I swear, sometimes this man and his blasé attitude drive me up the wall. Pursing my lips, I focus on the reason for this call.

  “We need to talk about investments. When are you free?” I ask, thumbing through the file for Rio Venture Corp. According to Edward, this is the company we should go with.

  “Whenever you want me,” he offers generously.

  Delicious throbbing starts in my core and threatens to throw me off course. Ignoring it, I stick to the script.

  “Great, we’ll meet today,” I decide. My earlier fatigue is forgotten as my nerve endings come alive, overjoyed with the prospect of being in his presence later.

  A silent moment passes on the line and I wonder if he’s even listening to me.

  “Fine,” he agrees. “But I have a few conditions.”

  My sigh of relief is premature.

  I should have known.

  “What is it?” I ask cautiously. There’s no telling what’s going to fly out of his mouth so I brace myself.

  “Tonight, you let me paint you.”

  Nineteen

  LILAH

  “Fuck,” I hiss as Andrew drags his paintbrush down the inside of my thigh. The sensitive skin flames under his touch.

  From my position above him, I watch Andrew’s brow lift at my outburst.

  “You okay?” he asks, appearing concerned. But I know better. He’s enjoying this. And who can blame him?

  I’m stripped down to nothing but my panties and he’s turned me into his canvas for the evening.

  “I’m fine,” I bite out, gnawing on the inside of my cheek to stifle any other reactions.

  With a steadying breath, I try to focus on anything but how close he is to my throbbing core. To cope, I start cataloguing my furniture.

  My leather couch is pushed up against the furthest wall and an old sheet is spread out across the floor to prevent paint from getting everywhere.

  It would make a hell of a lot more sense for us to be at his house doing this given how much space he has. But this had been one of my stipulations. If he was going to be in control, I at least wanted it to be on my own turf.

  “You’re beautiful, Lilah,” Andrew states, dipping his brush into the paint on his palette.

  It isn’t the first time he’s muttered that tonight bu
t it still sets off a violent swarm of butterflies in the pit of my stomach. As if I wasn’t quivering enough, his words are both unnerving and reassuring.

  Tonight is the first time in ages that I’ve been bared to anyone. I’ve been so consumed with getting my project off the ground that most of my loving has been solo. Aside from that episode in Andrew’s foyer, that is…

  Observant blue eyes land on my contracting abdomen and his paint is all but forgotten.

  “Oh, you’re shaking,” he says, his voice raw. His eyes blink slowly, like watching me is torturing him as much as it’s torturing me.

  My heavy lids slip down over my eyes.

  “This is new for me,” I share before sucking in another calming breath.

  Letting his brush fall to the wayside, Andrew remains kneeling before me. His handsome face is clouded by desire and he looks so damn sexy as he stares at me like I’m his next meal.

  Andrew’s voice drops a few octaves and he asks, “Is it difficult for you to relinquish control?” Strong arms reach to encircle my hips, pulling me even closer to his face.

  I want to warn him that the paint he’s smeared on me may get on his clothes, but that seems to be the least of his worries right now.

  Shakily, I nod in response to his question, although I suspect he already knew the answer.

  “Why do you think that is?” he asks and he’s hugging me to him at this point, my pussy a breath away from his nose.

  How am I supposed to answer that?

  “I — oh!” I yelp when he buries his face in the crotch of my black cotton panties.

  Holy fucking shit.

  “Andrew,” I moan out as he continues burrowing his nose, taking in the heady scent of my arousal.

  When he pulls away, blue paint is staining his white V-neck shirt. But the hungry gleam in his eyes tells me that he couldn’t care less.

  “I want you so fucking bad,” he admits, dragging his tongue across his plump bottom lip.

  Biting down on my own, I wait for him to go on.