My New Year Fling: A Sexy Christmas Billionaire Romance (Love Comes Later Book 2)

by Serenity Woods

  “Have I offended you?” he asks eventually, as we leave the beach to cross behind the holiday park.

  “No. I have questions. I suppose I don’t like being reminded of them.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I try very hard to be positive and see a silver lining in everything, but it’s not easy. I’m thirty-five. I’m at the time in my life when things should be coming together—husband, family, career, home… I’m so far from that you can’t imagine.”

  “Meh. Security’s overrated.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I slow down as I see the shop that services the holiday park. “I might get a drink—I’m really thirsty. You want one?”

  “Sure.”

  The sign on the front of the holiday park displays a Full sign, and I can see that every caravan space is taken, and the adjacent fields are packed with tents. They will be filled both with Kiwi families who’ve decided to spend the summer away and with visitors from abroad who are touring New Zealand. It’s difficult to find a B&B or a hotel room at this time of year, and it’s impossible to get anything done, as much of the Northland shuts down over late December and early January.

  We head into the shop, which is typical of those that serve holidaymakers, filled with sun lotion, cheap hats and jandals, buckets and spades, Frisbees and beach cricket sets. There’s lots of Kiwiana—coasters and towels and bags with koru patterns and New Zealand flags, silver jewelry decorated with paua shell, kiwifruit hand cream and postcards with the Kerikeri stone store and photos of the various bays. In the food section, there’s a hot cabinet filled with pies, most of which have cheese in them—steak and cheese, mince and cheese—an ice cream cabinet, and several drinks cabinets. I take out a bottle of diet soda and Rich does the same, and I also buy a few more bars of chocolate. I can’t survive without chocolate.

  We pay and head out, and take a seat at a vacant picnic table. The kids are excited, running around, not listening to their parents. A family Labrador starts barking, and I see flashes of a light yellow in the sky that for a moment I think is lightning before I realize nobody’s commenting on them and it’s all in my head.

  “I have to admit, this isn’t how I expected to spend the day.” Rich is looking around him, bemused at the chaos and the noise.

  “I’m sorry.” I swallow a few mouthfuls of the soda and smile as a couple of small boys go tearing past in tiny Spider-Man T-shirts. “I’ve dragged you away from your retreat and forced you into the land of the living.”

  “It wasn’t an accusation. It’s probably a good thing. This day is always the hardest, and at least we’re halfway through—I’m thankful for that.” He tips back his head and drinks his soda. I watch his eyes close, his throat contract as he swallows. I find it hard to tear my eyes from him. I’m intensely curious about him, his lifestyle, his friends and family. I’ve only seen the Maori side of him, but he lives in Auckland and he says he’s a code monkey, so he obviously leads a staid kind of lifestyle. I picture him in a tiny apartment, spending most of his time in the dark, fingers tapping on the keyboard. I wonder if he’s had many girlfriends. He’s obviously single now. Probably. I think of Alastair, and my skin crawls.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask.

  He gives me an amused look. “Do you think I’d be here with you, if I had?” Then his smiles fades. “Shit. Sorry. I forgot about your ex.”

  “I’m not tarring all men with the same brush or anything,” I say. “But we’re only talking, and some guys wouldn’t see that as being unfaithful.” I can’t seem to express myself. I’m trying to say that I can feel a connection between us, but I’m not sure if it’s all in my head, like the colors I see in the sky every time a child shrieks or someone drops a plate with a clatter.

  I like this guy, but what I’m feeling is obviously a false intimacy because I don’t know anything about him, not really. And I think he likes me, but I can’t be sure. I don’t know why it matters. In a few minutes, we’ll return to our separate baches, and then he’ll drink himself to oblivion during the evening while I play my guitar, and by the morning we’ll have reset, like a clock that goes back to 00:00 the next day.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend,” Rich says. His gaze appraises me as if waiting to see my reaction. I try not to look too pleased.

  “Who was the last girl you went out with?” I ask.

  “Uh…”

  “Too many to count? Or can’t remember her name?”

  He gives me a wry look. “It’s been a while. I haven’t dated anyone for over a year.”

  “Jeez. Really?”

  “Yeah. Her name was… Sally. We dated for a few months but we broke up the November before last. I knew I wouldn’t be much fun around the Christmas period, and I wasn’t interested in continuing the relationship.”

  He hadn’t let her in. I can hear the unspoken words.

  “And you’ve dated no one this year?” I clarify.

  “No. It seems to be getting harder to open up.” His smile fades, and his gaze returns to the ocean. I feel Will’s presence intensifying, pressing down on him. Or maybe it’s just the air, which is growing increasingly humid.

  I may be wrong, but something’s telling me that not all of Rich’s grief and emotion is due to the death of his brother. I can’t put my finger on what I mean by that. Of course it makes sense that a man would be devastated by the death of his twin, but my spidey-sense is tingling. Again, I wonder if it’s something to do with Will’s girlfriend, Teddi. Maybe Rich’s attraction to her wasn’t just a passing crush—maybe he’s in love with her. It doesn’t sound as if she’s made a move on him since Will died, though. Is that why he’s hurting? Is that what he wants?

  A man standing nearby us in extremely short shorts and with very white legs points up and says with a Northern-English accent to the woman next to him, “Hey, Lesley, look at that sky.”

  I’d forgotten about the storm, but as we look up, I can see that the sea has turned iron-gray, reflecting the clouds hanging thick and heavy in the sky. As we watch, lightning flashes, and for a moment I’m confused, thinking it’s a visual representation of the squeal from a nearby child. A small dog barks from behind me, adding light blue flashes to the sky. The headland to the south-west is blurred with rain, and with some alarm I realize it’s sweeping up the coast, and will reach our baches before it reaches here.

  “We’d better get going,” Rich says, obviously thinking the same as me.

  We jump to our feet, put our rubbish in the bin, and head to the beach. We set a quick pace, but we’re only halfway back before the first drops fall on my face.

  “Shit!” I start running, and Rich jogs beside me, but we’re much too far away to make it before the storm breaks.

  Sub-tropical Northland rain is something everyone should experience at least once in their life. It comes out of nowhere, hammering down on us, stinging my eyes and hurting my skin. We’re not far from the baches now, but I flinch as lightning flashes, and I increase my pace, wanting to get inside.

  Thunder hits only seconds after the lightning, its deep boom forming black circles in the air. Half-blinded, I stumble, and Rich’s hand slides beneath my arm, keeping me steady. With only a few more strides we’re at the base of his deck, and we run up the steps and underneath the overhead canopy.

  “Jesus.” Rich stops and runs his hands through his hair. We’re both soaked to the skin, water running off us in rivulets.

  The rain hammers on the canopy, and now I’m seeing tiny blue and gray flashes like my very own Christmas fairy lights. My heart’s racing, and I know I must look a sight with my hair plastered to my head. I glance down and discover that my white T-shirt is completely transparent, and my nipples are poking through the material like buttons.

  I look up at Rich. His skin is brown and shiny like polished kauri wood, his tattoo showing clearly through his wet tee. His chest is heaving, and I’m not sure if it’s from our run or the emotion that’s coursing through him. H
is expression is a peculiar mixture of pain and helplessness and desire, or at least I think it’s desire—I don’t trust my instincts anymore.

  He glances at the table where the bottle of whisky sits waiting for him.

  “Don’t drink tonight,” I whisper without thinking. It’s none of my business what he does, but all I know is that I don’t want him to lose himself, not tonight.

  He looks back at me, his eyes shining. “I feel lost,” he says hoarsely. “And I don’t know how to get back.”

  “I’ll help you.” I walk up to him, place my hands on his chest, lift onto my tiptoes, and press my lips to his.

  Chapter Seven

  Rich

  I’m so stunned when Jess kisses me that for a moment I just stand there like a statue. My senses spin. My ears are filled with the roar of rain on the canopy overhead; I can smell salt and seaweed and Jess’s light flowery perfume; I can taste salt and the sweetness of chocolate. I feel shivery from the sensation of taking the step into intimacy with this woman, of having her lips on mine.

  After a few seconds during which I don’t respond, she moves back and looks up at me, her hazel eyes wide. “Shit,” she says. “Fuck. Sorry.”

  She obviously thinks she’s made a mistake, and that I don’t fancy her. She doesn’t realize that I’ve thought of little else during the day except her slim, toned body in the bikini. She doesn’t understand that I’ve been picturing her naked, imagining her under me, on top of me, fantasizing about kissing her mouth, her nipples, her soft belly, between her legs.

  I feel guilty and confused, because Will’s death has been all-consuming on this day for the last four years, and I wonder if I’m being disloyal by thinking of anything else. But I can’t help it. I hunger for this woman. And I’m not going to pass up the chance to kiss her now I know she’s interested in me.

  She stares up into my eyes, and the look of horror fades from her expression and her eyes widen as she obviously reads what I’m feeling in mine. I place my hands on her upper arms and turn her so she’s leaning on the wall of the bach, and then my lips are on hers, and I’m pressing up to her, wanting to feel her breasts against my chest. She lifts her arms around my neck and slides her hands into my wet hair. When she tightens her fingers and scrapes her nails across my scalp, I groan and push my hips to hers so she’s in no doubt how much I want her.

  Her mouth is soft, and she parts her lips and slips her tongue against mine without any prompting. I kiss her deeply, skimming my hands up her body. The wet T-shirt is clinging to her skin, and when my hands reach her breasts, I find her nipples tight and hard. I brush my thumbs over them, and her lips part beneath mine as she exhales with an Aaahhh.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex, and my heart’s thundering along with the rain. I’m thrilled at how willing she is. I move my hands around her and down to her bottom, pull her against me, and lift my lips from hers.

  “I want you,” I whisper fiercely. “I’ve thought of nothing else all day.”

  “Take me, then.” She grazes her teeth on my bottom lip. “Have me. I want you too, Rich. I want to be naked with you. I want you inside me.” Her hands fumble at the base of my T-shirt, and then she’s stripping it off me, right there on the deck.

  “We should go inside,” I mumble, but the words are lost in the rain, and besides, a person would have to be mad to be out in this weather. The beach is abandoned; the doors to all the baches are shut. Nobody can see us.

  “Do you have a condom?” she asks.

  “Yes.” I pull out my wallet, extract one, and toss the wallet onto the floor.

  She’s already stripping off her wet top. Her skin is tanned, her breasts high and firm. I place my hands on them as I kiss her again, and she moans against my lips, arching her back when I take her nipples in my fingers and roll them. While I do this, she undoes the button of her shorts and pushes them off with her underwear, and suddenly she’s naked in my arms, soft and wet and cool.

  This is so fucking hot, and I don’t object when she undoes the tie of my swim shorts and pushes them down over my erection. I kick them off, and then groan when her hand closes around me, her fingers firm and confident as she gives me several long strokes.

  I feel drunk, or drugged, high on the moment, dizzy with longing. I’m exultant at the thought of being here, now, just me and Jess, doing what comes naturally, without thinking, without worrying about anything except what feels good. I hold her head with my hands and kiss her the way I want to, hard, slanting my mouth across hers. My body’s burning.

  There’s a flash of lightning and immediately an incredibly loud rumble of thunder, and the wind whisks the rain beneath the canopy right across us, making us both gasp. But we don’t stop kissing. Our hands skate over wet skin, and our mouths are demanding, biting, sucking, tongues delving, as if we can’t get enough of each other. Her breasts are wet and heavy in my hands. I bend and cover one of her nipples with my mouth while I tug the other hard in my fingers, and she cries out, tipping her head back. I love the way this girl is as hot for me as I am for her. Even though normally I would take a long time on foreplay to make sure a woman was aroused, when I slide my hand beneath her I find her swollen and slippery, more than ready for me. She hooks her leg around me and I slide my fingers inside her. Her eyes open and stare into mine. My heart hammers.

  I tear the wrapper of the condom with my teeth and roll it on. Then I put my arms around Jess and lift her. She gasps and clutches my hair in both her hands, pulling my mouth to hers, and nips my bottom lip with her teeth. Growling, I shift to the right so she’s up against the window, then lower her so her bottom rests on the sill.

  I lift my head and look into her eyes. Sudden doubt filters through me. I can’t believe I’m this lucky. “Are you sure?”

  She wraps both her legs around my hips and nods.

  I don’t need telling twice. I guide the tip of my erection between her folds and push forward. In one easy move, I’m inside her, right up to the hilt.

  She inhales sharply, and for a long moment we just stare at each other. Jess’s eyes sparkle with excitement—she’s as turned on as I am by what we’re doing.

  The wind blows another sheet of rain across and we both gasp, then laugh. “You’re fucking amazing,” I tell her, and then I crush my lips to hers as I begin to move.

  With her legs around my hips, she fits snugly to me, and I’m able to lean one hand on the window for balance as I thrust. She holds onto the sill with one hand and clutches the other in my hair, and she tilts her hips so she’s arousing herself too, taking her pleasure from me the same way that I’m taking my pleasure from her. I love that she’s not just a spectator—she wants this, she wants me, and her kisses are hard and demanding, her moans uninhibited as she abandons herself to the sensations rising within us.

  I should slow down, I should take time to arouse her, I should wait… But I’m an animal at heart, raw lust and desire and heat, and Jess doesn’t want me to wait, she wants me to take her, and I’m not going to stop when a girl wants me this much.

  Rain coats us, slicing through our skin, but it only serves to turn me on. I thrust harder, my wet skin meeting hers with a sharp slap, and Jess clenches her hand so tight in my hair I’m sure she’s going to rip it out by the roots.

  “Don’t stop,” she pants. “I’m going to come.”

  “Fuck, yeah.” I pound into her, kissing around to her ear, then down her neck. I wash my tongue over her cool skin, then fasten my mouth there and suck. She moans, so I suck harder, and she comes then, clenching around me in hard pulses that take me right to the edge and push me over. I thrust deep into her, as deep as I can, my hand tightening to a fist on the window. She pulls my head back by the hair, and I know she’s watching me come, but I’m so locked into the moment that I can’t open my eyes, I can only let the emotion and passion wash over me like the rain, let it fill me, let it cleanse me, until it leaves me gasping and exhausted.

  I lean my forehead again
st hers and wait for my heart to stop thudding. It’s difficult to tell because the rain’s so loud, and I wonder if this is what synesthesia is like, where it’s hard to know what’s real and what’s in your head.

  Slowly, I open my eyes and move back a little.

  Jess looks exhausted too—drained and yet happy. “Wow,” she says, panting. “Just… wow.”

  I blink a few times and then glance around us. I can’t believe we had sex outside, on the deck, and I hope fervently that the kids a few doors down haven’t come out to play in the rain. To my relief, the beach is still empty. Now the intensity of the moment has passed, though, I want to get inside.

  I slide out of her as gently as I can, and she lowers her legs to the ground.

  “Will you come in?” I ask.

  She nods, so I unlock the door to the bach, pick up my wallet but leave our wet clothes outside because they’re soaking, and lead her in.

  Letting go of her briefly, I cross to the tiny bathroom, dispose of the condom, fetch a couple of towels, and go back into the living room. Jess is in the doorway. Having released her hair from its braid, she proceeds to squeeze out the water.

  When she’s done, I turn her so she’s facing away from me, looking out at the rain, and I place the towel over her hair and dry it. Then I dry her back and legs before turning her to face me. She studies me curiously, maybe even warily, as if nobody’s ever done this for her before. I dry her front, brushing only briefly over her breasts and down her legs. It’s humid in the bach but she’s shivering—I’m not sure whether she’s cold or if it’s an after effect of what we’ve just done.

  When she’s dry, she takes the other towel and does the same to me, gesturing for me to bend forward so she can do my hair, then drying my back and front. It’s a strange ritual, oddly intimate, and we complete it in silence, listening to the tapping of the rain above us.