A Billionaire for Christmas

by Janice Maynard

  * * *

  Phoebe jerked awake, her heart pounding in response to some unremembered dream. It took her several seconds to recognize her surroundings. In the next instant, she glanced at the baby monitor. Reassurance came in the form of a grainy picture. Teddy slept in his usual position.

  Sighing shakily as adrenaline winnowed away, she glanced at the clock on the far wall. Two in the morning. The fire burned brightly, so Leo must have been up tending to it recently. The room was warm and cozy. Despite her unaccustomed bed and the late hour, she felt momentarily rested and not at all sleepy.

  Warily, she lifted her head a couple of inches, only enough to get a clear view of Leo over the top of the coffee table. Her breath caught at the picture he made. Sprawled on his back on the bearskin rug, he lay with one arm flung outward, the other bent and covering his eyes.

  He was bare-chested. Firelight warmed skin that was deep gold dusted with a hint of dark hair that ran down the midline of his rib cage. Smooth muscles gave definition to a torso that was a sculptor’s dream.

  Arousal swam in her veins, sluggish and sweet, washing away any vestige of sadness from earlier in the evening. A wave of yearning tightened her thighs. Moisture gathered in her sex, readying her for his possession. Leo would never have made a move on her this evening in light of what she had shared with him.

  Which meant that Phoebe had to take the initiative.

  Telling herself and her houseguest that intimacy between them wasn’t a good idea was as realistic as commanding the moon not to rise over the mountain. She wanted Leo. She trembled with the force of that wanting. It had been aeons since she had felt even the slightest interest in a man, longer still since she had paid any attention to the sexual needs of her body.

  It was foolish to miss this chance that might never come her way again. Leo was not only physically appealing, he was also a fascinating and complex man. She was drawn to him with a force that was as strong as it was unexpected. Some things in life couldn’t be explained. Often in her old life, she had picked stocks based on hunches. Nine times out of ten she was right.

  With Leo, the odds might not be as good. Heartbreak and loss were potential outcomes. But at this barren time in her life, she was willing to take that chance.

  Before she could change her mind, she drew her gown up and over her head. Being naked felt wanton and wicked, particularly in the midst of winter. Too long now she had bundled herself up in every way…mentally…emotionally. It was time to face life and be brave again.

  She knelt beside him and sat back on her haunches, marveling at the beauty of his big, elegant body. His navy sleep pants hung low on his hips, exposing his navel. The tangle of bedding, blankets and all, reached just high enough to conceal his sex. Though she was pushing her limits, she didn’t quite have the courage to take a corner of the sheet and pull.

  Would he reject her, citing her emotional distress and bad timing? Or was Leo’s need as great as hers? Did he want her enough to ignore all the warning signs and go for it regardless of possible catastrophe?

  There was only one way to find out. Slipping her hand beneath the blanket, she encountered silk warmed by his skin. Carefully, she stroked over the interesting mound that was his sex. She had no more than touched him when he began to swell and harden.

  Fifteen

  Leo was having the most amazing dream. One of Phoebe’s hands touched him intimately, while the other moved lightly over his chest, toying with his navel, teasing his nipples with her thumb. He groaned in his sleep, trying not to move so the illusion wouldn’t shatter.

  He sensed her leaning over him, her hair brushing his chest, his shoulders, his face, as she found his mouth. The kiss tasted sweet and hot. Small, sharp teeth nipped his bottom lip. He shuddered, bound in thrall to a surge of arousal that left him weak and gasping for breath. His chest heaved as he tried to pull air into his lungs.

  His heart pounded like the hooves of a racehorse in the last turn. For a split second, a dash of cold fear dampened his enthusiasm. He hadn’t had sex since his heart attack. All medical reassurances to the contrary, he wasn’t sure what would happen when he was intimate with a woman. His hand—and the process of self-gratification—he trusted. Would the real deal finish him off?

  But this was a dream. No need for heartburn. He laughed inwardly at his own pun. Nothing mattered but hanging onto the erotic fantasy and enjoying it until the end.

  He felt Phoebe slide his loose pants down his legs and over his feet. In the next second she was up on her knees straddling him. Grabbing one smooth, firm thigh, he tugged, angling her leg over his shoulder so he could pleasure her with his mouth. When he put his tongue at her center and probed, he shot from the realm of slumber to delicious reality in a nanosecond. The taste of Phoebe’s sweet, hot sex was all too authentic.

  His hands cupped her ass to hold her steady, even as his brain struggled to catch up. “Phoebe?” The hoarse word was all he could manage. Blinking to clear his sleep-fogged eyes, he looked up and found himself treated to the vision of soft, full breasts half hidden in a fall of silky black hair. Curvy hips nipped into a narrow waist.

  Phoebe’s wary-eyed gaze met his. She licked her lips, uncertainty in every angle of her body. “I didn’t ask,” she said, looking delightfully guilty.

  “Trust me, honey. There’s not a man living who would object. But you should have woken me up sooner. I don’t want to miss anything.” He loved the fact that she had taken the initiative in their coming together, because it told him she was as invested in this madness as he was. He scooted his thumb along the damp crevice where her body was pink and perfect. When he concentrated on a certain spot, Phoebe moaned.

  Inserting two fingers, he found her swollen and wet. Sweet Lord. The driving urge he had to take her wildly and immediately had to be subdued in favor of pleasuring such an exquisite creature slowly. Making her yearn and burn and ultimately reach the same razor-sharp edge of arousal on which he balanced so precariously.

  “Put your hair behind your shoulders,” he commanded.

  Phoebe lifted her arms and obeyed.

  “Link your hands behind your back.”

  A split second of hesitation and then compliance. The docile acquiescence gave him a politically incorrect rush of elation. She was his. She was his.

  Watching her face for every nuance of reaction, he played with her sex…light, teasing strokes interspersed with firmer pressure. Her body bloomed for him, the spicy sent of her making him drunk with hunger. Keeping his thumb on the little bud that encompassed her pleasure center, he entered her with three fingers this time, stretching her sheath.

  Phoebe came instantly, with a keening cry. He actually felt the little flutters inside her as she squeezed. Imagining what that would feel like on his shaft made him dizzy.

  When the last ripple of orgasm released her, he sat up, settling Phoebe in his lap and holding her tightly. His eager erection bumped up against her bottom. Her thighs were draped over his, her ankles linked at his back.

  Emotions hit him hard and fast. The one he hadn’t anticipated was regret. Not for touching her, never that. But sorrow that they hadn’t met sooner. And fear that she would be dismissive of their intimacy because their time together had been so brief.

  He waited as long as he could. At least until her breathing returned to normal. Then he pulled back and searched her face. “Don’t think for a minute that we’re almost done. That was only a tiny prelude. I’m going to devote myself to making you delirious with pleasure.”

  Her smile was smug. “Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.”

  Leo knew that if things were to progress he had to get up. But knowing and doing were two different matters. “Can I ask you a very important question, my Phoebe?”

  She rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Ask away.”

  “If I
go fetch a bushel of condoms, will you change your mind about this while I’m gone?”

  He felt her go still. “No.” The voice was small, but the sentiment seemed genuine.

  “And if Teddy wakes at an inopportune moment, will that be an excuse? Or even a sign from the universe that we should stop?”

  She lifted her head, her eyes searching his. For what? Encouragement? Sincerity? “If that happens,” she said slowly, “we’ll settle him back to sleep and pick up where we left off.”

  “Good.” He told himself to release her. Until he rustled up some protection, he couldn’t take her the way he wanted to. But holding her like this was unutterably sweet. A real conundrum, because he couldn’t ever remember feeling such a thing with another lover. This mix of shivering need and overwhelming tenderness.

  Phoebe smiled. “Shall I go get them?”

  He shook his head. “No. Just give me a minute.” The actual fire had died down, and he needed to take care of that, as well.

  While he sat there, desperately trying to find the will to stand up, Phoebe reached behind her bottom and found his shaft, giving it a little tug. The teasing touch was almost more than he could stand. The skin at the head was tight and wet with fluid that had leaked in his excitement.

  Her fingers found the less rigid part of his sex and massaged him gently. “Don’t. Ah, God, don’t,” he cried. But it was too late. He came in a violent climax that racked him with painful, fiery release. Gripping Phoebe hard enough to endanger her ribs, he groaned and shuddered, feeling the press of her breasts against his chest.

  In the pregnant silence that followed, the witch had the temerity to laugh. “Perhaps we should quit while we’re ahead. I don’t think you’re going to make it down the hall anytime soon.”

  He pinched her ass, gasping for breath. “Impertinent hussy.”

  “Well, it’s true. I suppose I should have thought through all the ramifications before I jumped your bones.”

  “You were a tad eager,” he pointed out, squeezing her perfectly plump butt cheeks.

  Phoebe wriggled free and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. “Go, Leo. Hurry. I’m getting cold.”

  Dragging himself to his feet, he yawned and stretched. Just looking at her had his erection bobbing hopefully again. Down, boy. He removed the fire screen, threw on a couple of good-size logs and poked the embers until they blazed up again. “Don’t go anywhere,” he ordered. “I’ll be right back.”

  * * *

  Phoebe watched him walk away with stars in her eyes. This was bad. This was very bad. Leo in the buff was one spectacular sight. Aside from his considerable assets, the view from the rear was impressive, as well. Broad shoulders, trim waist, taut buttocks, nicely muscled thighs. Even his big feet were sexy.

  Despite everything they had done in the last forty-five minutes, her body continued to hum with arousal. She still couldn’t believe she had stripped naked and attacked him in his sleep. That was something the old Phoebe might have done. But only if the man in question were Leo. He had the ability to make a woman throw caution to the wind.

  She tidied the pile of bedding and smoothed out the wrinkles. Just like a cavewoman preparing for the return of her marauding spouse. It struck her as funny that Leo really had provided food for her. Not by clubbing anything over the head, but still…

  Now that he was gone, she felt a bit bashful. She had seen the size of his sex. Wondering how things would fit together made her nipples furl in anticipation.

  His return was rapid and startling. From his hand dangled a long strip of connected condom packages. She licked her lips. “I don’t think the night is that long.”

  Dropping down beside her, he bit her shoulder. “Trust me, sweetheart.”

  He took her chin in his hand, the lock of hair falling across his forehead making him look younger and more carefree. “I’m thinking we’ll go hard and fast the first time and then branch out into variations.”

  As he cupped her breast, her eyelids fluttered shut all of their own accord. Despite the fact that he had paraded nude through the house, his skin was as warm as ever. She burrowed closer. “Merry Christmas to me,” she muttered.

  “Look at me, Phoebe.”

  When she obeyed, she saw that every trace of his good humor had fled. His face was no more than planes and angles, painted by firelight to resemble an ancient king. Eyes so dark they appeared black. Still he held her chin. “I’m looking,” she quipped with deliberate sass. “What am I supposed to see?” His intensity aroused and agitated her, but she wouldn’t let him know how his caveman antics affected her. Not yet.

  He flipped her onto her back without warning, her brief fall cushioned by the many-layered pallet. Instead of answering her provocative question, he showed her. Kneeling between her thighs, he yanked a single packet free, ripped it open with his teeth and extracted the contents. Making sure she watched him—by the simple expedient of locking her gaze to his—he rolled the condom over his straining erection.

  She doubted he meant for her to see him wince. But the evidence of his arousal lit a fire low in her belly. Leo was in pain. Because of her. He wanted her so badly his hands were shaking. That meant he was more vulnerable than she had imagined. And knowing she was not the only one falling apart calmed her nerves.

  Clearly, Leo did not see her as one in a line of faceless women. Whatever their differences in lifestyle, or world view, or even sexual experience, tonight was special.

  She grabbed his wrist. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me.” She breathed the words on a moan as his legs tangled with hers and he positioned the head of his sex at her opening.

  Still he didn’t smile. His expression was a mask of frayed control…jaw clenched, teeth ground together. “I’m going to take you, my sweet. To heaven and back.”

  At the first push of his rigid length, she lost her breath. Everything in the room stood still. Her body strained to accommodate him. Though she was more than ready, she had been celibate a long time, and Leo was a big man.

  He paused, though the effort brought beads of perspiration to his forehead. “Too much?” he asked, his voice raw.

  “No.” She concentrated on relaxing, though everything inside her seemed wound tight. “I want all of you.”

  Her declaration made him shudder as though the mental picture was more stimulating than the actual joining of their flesh. Steadily, he forced his way in. Phoebe felt his penetration in every inch of her soul. She knew in that instant that she had been deceiving herself. Leo was more than a mere fling. He was the man who could make her live again.

  When he was fully seated, he withdrew with a hoarse shout and slammed into her, making her grab the leg of the coffee table as a brace. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped.

  “Then don’t stop, Leo. I can handle whatever you have to give.”

  Sixteen

  Leo was out of control. In some sane corner of his mind, he knew it. But Phoebe…God, Phoebe…she milked the length of him every time he withdrew, and on the downstroke arched her back, taking him a centimeter deeper with each successive thrust.

  Her legs had his waist in a vise. Her cloud of night-dark hair fanned out around them. He buried his face in it at one point, stilling his frantic motions, desperately trying to stave off his release. She smelled amazing. Though he couldn’t pinpoint the fragrance, he would have recognized her scent in a pitch-black room.

  Her fingernails dug into his back. He relished the stinging discomfort…found his arousal ratcheting up by a degree each time she cried out his name and marked his flesh.

  But nothing prepared him for the feel of her climax as she tightened on his shaft and came apart in release. He held her close, feeling the aftershocks that quivered in her sex like endless ripples of sensation.

  When he knew she was at peace, he lost it
. Slamming into her without finesse or reason, he exploded in a white-hot flash of lust. He lost a few seconds in the aftermath, his mouth dry and his head pounding.

  Barely conscious, he tried to spare her most of his weight. He had come twice in quick succession, and his brain was muddled, incredulous that he wanted her still.

  Phoebe stirred restlessly. “We should get some sleep.” Her words were barely audible, but he caught the inference.

  No way. She wasn’t leaving him. No way in hell. Rolling onto his side, he scooped her close, spooning her with a murmur of satisfaction. Though her soft bottom pressed into the cradle of his thighs, his arousal was a faint whisper after two incredible climaxes. The need he felt was more than physical.

  Her head pillowed on his arm, he slept.

  * * *

  He couldn’t mark the moment consciousness returned, but he knew at once that he was alone. Sunlight peeked in around the edges of the drapes, the reflection strangely bright. He could hear the furnace running, and although the fire had long since burned out, he was plenty warm.

  Sitting up with a groan, he felt muscle twinges that came from a night of carnal excess. Thinking about it made him hard. He cursed, well aware that any repeat of last night’s sexual calisthenics was hours in the future.

  Phoebe had put away all the bedding she had used on the sofa. But on the kitchen counter he saw a pot of coffee steaming. He stood up, feeling as if he’d been on a weekend bender. Grabbing his robe that had gotten wedged beneath the edge of the sofa, he slid his arms into the sleeves and zeroed in on the life-saving caffeine.

  After two cups he was ready to go in search of his landlady. He found her and Teddy curled up on Phoebe’s bed reading books. She sat up when she saw him, her smile warm but perhaps tinged with reserve. “I hope we didn’t wake you.”

  He put his hands on top of the door frame and stretched hard, feeling the muscles loosen bit by bit. “I didn’t hear a thing. Has he been up long?”

  “An hour maybe. I gave him his bottle in here.”