Christmas With a Billionaire: Billionaire Under the MistletoeSnowed in With Her BossA Diamond for Christmas

by Carole Mortimer

  “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

  Then he kissed her, her lips soft against his, her body melting into him. It was rare for him to know his lovers these days, at least in a real way. Before Marie, he’d dated women, he’d had relationships, but after that he’d had sporadic affairs.

  Amelia was different. He knew her. He was conscious of the fact that it was Amelia’s lips he was kissing. That it was Amelia who made soft sounds of pleasure as he moved his hands over her curves.

  There was no room for right or wrong now. There was only want.

  Amelia felt as if she couldn’t breathe, but at the moment, she didn’t really care. All she knew was that she’d gone from enraged to turned on out of her mind in three seconds flat.

  This was exactly what she needed. He was exactly what she needed. How had she missed that? For four years, she’d worked next to a guy who did more for her just by asking her to make him coffee than Clint had done by kissing her, and she still hadn’t realized.

  Friendship wasn’t enough. The desire to make his life better wasn’t enough. Without this, they couldn’t have a marriage. She couldn’t marry him.

  So that decision was made, and she could stop thinking and just revel in the feeling of Luc’s lips on hers. She didn’t ever want to stop kissing him. She hadn’t known it could be this good, this deep. She hadn’t known she could feel it down to her toes and every place in between.

  That a kiss could make you lose track of time and sanity. That it could make you so damn hungry you felt weak in the knees.

  He growled and backed her up against the wall, his hold on her firm, the kiss so deep, so hard. As if he was trying to prove what she already knew. That his kiss was in a whole different league from every one that had come before it. As if he was trying to wash away every other touch with heat and fire.

  It was working. Oh, dear Lord, it was working.

  He pushed his hands beneath the hem of her top, warm palms skimming over her stomach. Yes. Yes, yes. This was what she wanted. She wanted it all, she wanted it now. With him.

  She hadn’t exactly imagined that her first sexual experience would be with Luc, but then, she’d spent the past few years imagining that her first time would be on her wedding night with the man who’d wanted to say vows to her before he ever took her to bed.

  But that had all been a sham. A way for him to put off what he didn’t want. A way for him to try and make what he was doing sound like it was somehow better, all while she starved for human touch.

  It didn’t matter that this wasn’t what she’d imagined. This was better. It was Luc. She spent five days a week with the man, assisting him, working with him. Talking to him. And, yeah, he was grumpy. And she didn’t always understand him. And she didn’t always like him.

  But he was a friend. And she trusted him. In that moment, it hit her just how much. She could never just go to a bar and find a stranger to give her what she wanted, it wasn’t in her. It was so much better to be with him.

  And okay, it wouldn’t be forever, but that was okay. She was still trapped in limbo. Still felt emotionally attached to the man she’d planned on spending the rest of her life with, while her body was firmly on team Luc.

  He put his hand on her thigh and gripped it tight, pulling her leg up over his hip, blunt fingertips digging into her skin. She loved that. Loved how he touched her with such intent, with such desperation. There was no hesitation. There was nothing but pure, raw need.

  A need that echoed inside her.

  He leaned into her, pressing her back more firmly before reaching down, taking hold of both of her legs and lifting her, helping her wrap her legs around his waist before pulling them both away from the wall.

  He didn’t break the kiss as he carried her into his bedroom and deposited her on the bed. Then he pulled away, his hands gripping the bottom of his shirt before he wrenched it over his head, revealing well-defined muscles. Just the right amount of black hair dusted over his dark skin.

  “Oh, my,” she said, her heart kicking into high gear as his hands went to the snap on his jeans. Really, she should probably be taking her clothes off, too. But kissing was where her experience ended and she knew for a fact that wasn’t the case for Luc. It made her feel fluttery. And now, for the first time, she felt really truly nervous.

  A half smile curved his lips. “Like what you see?” he asked, lowering the zipper on his pants and pushing them, and his underwear down his lean hips.

  Her mouth dried, making it impossible for her to swallow. Nearly impossible for her to speak.

  “Uh...yes,” she said, taking a visual tour of his body. Broad chest, slim waist and...and the most male part of him. Thick and very aroused.

  She bit her lip, trying to fight against the rising tide of virginal panic.

  “You don’t sound convinced,” he said.

  “Maybe you should kiss me again,” she said. “Because I do less thinking and more feeling when you do that, which I think is probably good.”

  He smiled and put his knee down on the bed, leaning over and claiming her lips again. And just like that, the nerves evaporated. Like water hitting up against a wildfire. There was no way they could win, not when his touch burned everything away. Everything but this.

  He tugged her shirt up over her head, leaving her in nothing more than her black bra and those leggings she’d put on earlier, which now didn’t seem quite so appropriate. Though, not any worse than the black cotton panties that were beneath. Nothing about her ensemble said vamp, that was for sure.

  “I’m not really, uh...” He pushed her pants down her legs and pulled them off, leaving her in her unsexy undergarments. “There is no lace here,” she said. “Sorry. I wasn’t exactly expecting...this.”

  “You don’t need lace,” he said, his voice rough, his finger tracing the tender skin just beneath the cup of her bra. “You only need to be you.”

  That made her want to cry, and she wasn’t sure why. Except maybe that just being her had never really felt as if it were enough. She’d always felt the need to bring extra. To go above and beyond and make herself valuable to the people in her life. But he seemed fine with just Amelia. In plain black underwear.

  Heck, he seemed more than fine.

  His dark eyes glittered as he flicked the catch on her bra open, letting it fall down her arms and onto the bed, exposing her breasts to him. “Perfection,” he said, lowering his head and flicking his tongue over her nipple, his breath cool on her wet skin when he pulled away. “Absolute perfection.”

  Pleasure zipped down to her core, her internal muscles tightening. Oh, she wasn’t going to survive this. After twenty-five years of celibacy this was surely going to kill her. The dam that had held back all of her passion, all of her desire, for so long was going to burst and drown them both.

  He shifted, pressing his lips to the valley between her breasts, then to her stomach, just above her belly button, continuing on down below it. He moved his hands down her thighs, sliding them inward and parting her legs for him.

  She looked at him, watched him watch her with utter and complete concentration, tracing the delicate skin of her inner thigh with the tip of his finger, around the border of black cotton that hid her most private place from view.

  “I feel like this is the moment I’ve been waiting for since the day we met,” he said. “And for some reason, I didn’t realize it until now.”

  She sucked in a shaky breath as he gripped the sides of her panties and tugged them down, pulling them off and throwing them to the floor.

  They were naked. Together. She’d never been naked with a man before. She was a lot less embarrassed than she’d imagined. Because it felt natural. It felt right. She never would have thought that he was the one it would feel like this with. And how could she? She’d always imagined this moment with someone else. But
she could see that it wouldn’t have been right. Because it wouldn’t have been this, it wouldn’t have been Luc.

  He leaned in and kissed her thigh, following the path he’d moved his finger over a moment ago. And her breathing stopped. Her brain stopped. Everything in her paused, waiting to see what he would do. Hoping he would do what she thought he might, and kind of hoping he wouldn’t because it seemed like such an intimate thing.

  But then he did, his tongue sliding over her, then dipping inside her before tracing back. She put her hands on his head, holding him to her, trying to keep back the moan that was rising in her throat. But when he added his finger, she stopped trying.

  She gasped, any thoughts of embarrassment or nerves gone now. Nothing mattered but this. But being wanted by him. But having him enjoy her body like this.

  He continued to pleasure her with his mouth, pushing her higher, further than she’d ever thought possible, a knot of tension building in her stomach, getting tighter and tighter, until she thought it might break her. Until she thought there was no way she’d be able to survive.

  He pushed another finger inside her, moved in time with his tongue, and it all broke free. The dam burst, the flood of pleasure far more overwhelming than she could have imagined, far more satisfying. Far more devastating.

  He moved then, reaching for the nightstand drawer, and the box of protection that was inside. He tore it open, his hands shaking. For her. He was still hard, the evidence that he’d enjoyed what he’d done to her openly displayed.

  She watched him roll the condom over his length before he came back to her, kissing her lips as he moved into position, the head of him testing the entrance to her body.

  It suddenly occurred to her, through her post-orgasmic haze, that this was going to hurt. But it was too late for her to brace herself. He entered her fully, a sharp, hot pain ripping through her as he did.

  She whimpered, putting her fist over her mouth and trying to stifle the sound. He didn’t seem to realize the sound was from pain, though, and that was actually fine with her.

  He pulled back before thrusting in again, and this time, it didn’t hurt quite so much. And each time he came back to her, it hurt less, until eventually, it felt good again. Until tension started building, deep in her again, the promise of another release.

  She gripped his shoulders, then moved her hands down over his back, feeling the play of muscles as he moved in her, reveling in the closeness.

  He slid his hand beneath her butt and cupped her, pulling her up tightly against him, the slight readjustment bringing all the right things into contact with each other. Every thrust, every movement taking her closer to the edge.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, arching against him, guided by his firm hold on her bottom.

  Then he kissed her, hard, deep. And took her straight over the edge. She clung to him, because if she didn’t she was sure she was going to lose touch with the bed. Hell, with the earth.

  He pulled his mouth from hers and buried his face in her neck, speaking French against her skin as he froze above her, his muscles shaking as his own release rocked him.

  She released her hold on him and threw her arms up behind her head. “Wow,” she said, breathless.

  He said something, too, still in French. And she had a feeling it wasn’t a nice word. He pulled away from her, rolled into a sitting position and froze for a moment, before standing and walking into the bathroom.

  Well, just great. They’d done it and now he was fleeing the scene.

  She didn’t know what to do. If she should get her clothes back on and leave, or stay in the bed or...she had no idea what the protocol was really.

  Luc returned before she could decide. She was still lying on top of the covers all melted, and pale and naked. She felt like a little snowshoe hare ripped from the safety of its burrow. And that made Luc the fox. Or something.

  She was fuzzy on...fuzzy animal analogies.

  “Now,” he said, his voice cold, “you should have told me that.”

  “What?”

  “Were you a virgin?” he asked, standing nearer to the bathroom than to the bed, as if he was pondering running from the scene of the crime.

  “Technically. Yes. I mean...I did stuff with Clint. Sometimes. Not so much for the past...while. But he said he wanted to wait. And I thought...that’s so great. Because he loved me enough not to satisfy himself right away. He loved me enough to make it permanent first because he was that sure. Except really, it was just that it was so easy for him because he was that unattracted to me and I... Luc, I needed this. I needed someone to want me.”

  “Just someone?” he asked, his voice rough.

  “No. I don’t think it could have been anyone else. I couldn’t do that with a stranger, not after I waited so long. Not after it was built up to be such a big thing in my head. I needed it to be with someone I trusted. And I trust you. So please don’t look at me like I kicked your puppy because that’s messing with my confidence.”

  “I can’t offer you marriage, not like him.”

  “Well, I don’t think I want the kind of marriage he’s offering. Actually, no, I know I don’t. And I knew with total certainty the moment you kissed me that I didn’t want a passionless relationship. The thing is, we’d gone without passion for so long, obviously we never really had it, but we substituted it with this wonderful, warm caring and I was completely taken in by it. I forgot that marriage was supposed to be more than friendship. I was only thinking of it in terms of...family. Of making him my family. Of blending our families. Because it’s what everyone wanted.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “Marriage is more than friendship. And it’s more than a business deal, which during my own engagement I failed to realize, which is just one reason, I’m sure, my fiancée found what she was looking for in the arms of my brother. But marriage is also more than sex. This won’t give you more. I can’t give you more.”

  “I know that,” she said. “And we would be a terrible couple. Because you would always ask me to bring you coffee and you’re grumpy, and you’d have to hear me sing twenty-four hours a day, so I wasn’t suggesting that it was the magic marriage component that meant you and I should—” Heat flooded her face and she stuttered over the next words. “It never even crossed my mind, I’m not that naive.”

  “Funny,” he said, leaning against the wall, still completely naked, “because I thought you were that naive. Seeing as how you were a virgin and all.”

  “Virgin does not equal naive. Granted, not realizing for nine years that the guy you’re in a relationship with is really not that into you, because you’re not checking the right box on your legal forms, if you know what I mean, is kind of naive. But I had a blind spot because I’d known him for so long.”

  “My point exactly. I’m not naive.”

  “No one would ever accuse you of it.” She slid off the bed and stood for a moment, then tugged back the covers and climbed back in, covering her body.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. We’re sort of stuck here, aren’t we?”

  “We are,” he said, crossing to the foot of the bed and standing there, naked still, and much more casual about it than she felt. “So what do you want, Amelia?”

  “What do you want, Luc?”

  “Me? I’m a man. I would like nothing more than to crawl back into bed with you and spend the entire day inside you, but considering...I feel the choice should be yours.”

  Her heart was hammering hard, her mouth completely dry. “I want that, too,” she said, the words spilling out of her. “I want... I want you and me and this. And you know what? I have for a long time, but I didn’t even want to acknowledge it to myself because it seemed so wrong that my boss could get me hotter asking me to fetch him a file than my fiancé could by kissing me, but it’s the
truth. It’s been the truth and I...”

  Just like that, he was over her, kissing her, tugging the blankets back, his warm body covering hers. “This,” she said, “is my new favorite way to spend a snowstorm.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT GOT DARK out early, and Luc didn’t care. It didn’t matter what time it was. Not when they had a fire going in the living area of their suite, not when he was holding Amelia, naked and bundled in a blanket, against his body.

  Not when he felt this good.

  Enjoying something, enjoying being with another person, was strange. Or maybe not so strange. He’d always found her to be more enjoyable than most people, so it stood to reason that spending time with her like this would be a good experience.

  Though, he hadn’t expected to spend naked time with Amelia, for all the reasons they’d already both gone over. And yet, right now, it just didn’t seem to matter.

  The way that the firelight made her face glow was infinitely more important. More important still was the way her curves felt beneath his hands. The way her breasts fit so perfectly in his palms...

  All of that seemed infinitely more essential than an ethical employer/employee relationship and unresolved engagements. Though, some time ago, she’d taken her ring off and stuffed it in the bottom of her gigantic purse. He’d been far too gratified by that.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?” Amelia asked, snuggling into him.

  “You’re naked, I’m naked, I don’t think anything is too personal at the moment.”

  “Fair point,” she said. “But you’re not going to like this.”

  “Try me.”

  “Okay...if you didn’t love Marie, why are you still angry with Blaise?”

  She was right, he didn’t like the question. If only because he didn’t readily have an answer for it. He didn’t spend a lot of time dwelling on it, he’d just been content to allow his brother to stay at a distance. The rift was fine with him.