by KB Winters
I grinned as heat swamped my skin. “I was trying to be helpful. It’s kind of my thing.”
“Like the cookies?”
“Yeah,” I said, though it was barely audible even on a deserted New York street just days before Christmas. “Like the cookies.”
His smile brightened and he held open the door, motioning me inside. “Max will take care of the bags.”
With his assurance, I slipped inside the limo and Nick followed, staring and smiling.
“What?”
“It seems someone has been bitten with the holiday spirit,” he offered cryptically but then pointed to the ceiling above us and grinned.
My gaze followed his finger and delighted laughter bubbled up out of me. “You bought a mistletoe for the limo? There are easier ways to get me to kiss you.”
“Perhaps,” he whispered and leaned in, brushing his lips over the corner of my mouth. “But this is way more fun.” His lips brushed the other corner then landed softly full on, at first sweet and chaste, then tender and tense before finally the kiss set my body ablaze. A few hours without his body and my own starved for it, trembled with need. My fingers tangled in his hair while he devoured my mouth, made love to it and made sure that no other man, no other kiss, would ever be as incredible.
“Wow.” That was all my brain could come up with after a kiss like that.
He chuckled. “Now you’re starting to see a fraction of what you do to me.” One hand sat on my thigh and the other buried in my hair as he looked at me. “You look beautiful like this, natural and fresh. Aroused.”
I blushed and looked away at his words. I looked poor and cheap but if he liked it, well I just might keep this man forever. Fitted jeans and an ugly sweater featuring a bikini clad snow woman weren’t exactly seduction material but underneath, I was ready for him. “You mean like I’ve been up all night making love? That kind of refreshed?”
“Since I’m the one who made you look like that, fuck yeah, it looks gorgeous to me.”
“Sir, we’ve arrived.” The driver’s voice sounded in the speakers and moments later the front door slammed shut and the back door opened.
“We’re here.” He grinned and helped me out of the limo.
I turned and gasped like the middle class girl I was raised to be. “That’s a private jet. With your name on it!” In tall blue letters as tall as a building, the tail clearly said Steele.
He grinned. “You do know I’m rich, right?”
I tapped my chin with my index finger, pretending to think. “I may have heard that somewhere before. I wasn’t expecting this, though in hindsight, I should have.”
“Is that a problem?” He looked worried, like I might actually object to traveling in luxury.
“No, just feeling momentarily overwhelmed.” More like completely out of my fucking depth, but I couldn’t say that. I wouldn’t ruin this chance. How often does a girl get an honest to goodness chance with the man of her dreams?
“By the jet? It’ll be just you and me, one attendant and the pilots.” His hand settled on my back, rubbing it in soothing circles, like he was really concerned.
“No, the jet is beautiful. I’ve never been on a private plane before, but it just brings home all the differences between us. Are we fooling ourselves, Nick?”
“Explain, please,” he said very diplomatically.
“Look at all this, Nick. You have everything and I have nothing. People will see us together and they’ll get it wrong. They won’t know how amazing you are, they’ll automatically assume I’m with you for your money.” I hung my head, anticipating his reluctant acceptance of my words. Instead I heard laughter and looked up. Scowling. “Is that funny?”
He wrapped an arm around me and guided me up the stairs into the most spectacular airplane I’d ever seen. There were creamy leather seats with royal blue accents in the form of buttons, logos and piping around the seats. I didn’t get to look around fully because a big, blond Adonis blocked out everything. “It’s not funny, but it is. For years I thought dating women with some kind of wealth of their own would help me find the right woman but it turns out they were greedier than most. But you, Harley, you’re so different.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is poor.”
He gave me a stern look and continued. “You’re not even worried that people will think you’re a gold digger, but that they won’t see what I am other than rich. You’re incredible and now I’m more convinced than ever this trip is the right thing for us.”
Us. He said it so simply. The words just rolled off his tongue like he’d been saying it for years. “Thank you for inviting me, Nick. I’m looking forward to it but I should let you in on a little secret. I’ve never skied.”
He laughed. “That’s okay. I happen to be an excellent teacher.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you are, because you’re good at everything.”
“Not everything. Brandon gets mad because I ignore my software updates.”
I laughed and shook my head, taking my time to look around the jet but with Nick to look at, the rest wasn’t quite as pretty. “I stand corrected then.”
“We have two uninterrupted weeks together, Harley. You’ll find out my flaws soon enough.”
Why did that promise sound so amazing? “I look forward to it.” I tilted my head back and smiled as his head lowered to mine, claiming my mouth in a kiss filled with hope and happiness, expectation and ecstasy. And pure sex. It didn’t last long enough but soon we were seated beside each other, cuddling while the plane taxied and then took off.
A uniformed flight attendant appeared wearing a professional smile on her beautiful face. “Can I get either of you anything to drink? Perhaps a snack?”
Nick looked at me for an answer. “I could go for some water, I feel a little dehydrated.”
“Two waters please, Gretchen. Thanks.”
The plane climbed the sky until we reached cruising altitude. “It feels weird to be alone on a plane.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you ever tried to work on a commercial flight. Even first class.”
I slumped in my seat. “Yeah, I don’t have that problem.” I dreamed of having problems like that.
“You will and then you’ll long for this day when all you had to do was sit here and enjoy the company of a handsome man.” His strong hand held my chin so I couldn’t look away. “You’ll get there, Harley.”
I wanted to believe him but he didn’t know me well enough yet. Maybe I was just a slacker. Maybe I could have worked harder to reach my goals. “Maybe.”
“No, you will. Now stop worrying or I’ll be forced to distract you properly.”
My body heated, flushed with arousal at his threat. “Hey, do you think I could join the mile high club since we have this thing to ourselves?”
Nick wore a smug grin as he stood and reached for my hand. I stood and let him guide me down a narrow hall with a few different doors. He stopped and pulled me in front of him, which put me in front of a closed door. “Open it.”
I looked over my shoulder and spied that lazy grin of his that made my knees buckle. “Okay.” I twisted the handle and pushed, gasping when I saw what it was. “A bedroom! Seriously? Way to bury the lead, Nick!”
He laughed and nudged me forward. It wasn’t large but hey, it was a fucking bedroom on a fucking private jet! I wouldn’t complain. Nope. Not at all.
“I took it for granted, I suppose.”
“Blasphemy! This is the reason to get rich right here, bedroom on a plane,” I mumbled and crawled across the bed. “Fantastic.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he replied and leaned against the doorframe. “To make the most of our entry into this prestigious club, I’m going to let you take the lead until we land.”
I swallowed and nodded, loving the sound of that. “And when we land?”
“You’re mine to command.”
“Week two is mine, then.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t have it
any other way.”
“Then we have a deal. Want to shake on it?”
“Yes,” he said as his shook my hand.
I kept my gaze on his and grabbed the hem of my sweater, tugging it up over my head until I stood there in my Christmas themed bra, complete with two tiny silver bells instead of a bow. I did a little shimmy so the bell rang out and Nick laughed. “Merry Christmas, Nick.”
“Merry. . .Christmas,” he groaned when I slid my jeans down my legs and revealed the holiday panties I wore.
“Mistletoe?”
I nodded and hopped on the bed. “Yep. Someone really smart told me they made kisses more fun.”
“Yeah? They must be fucking brilliant, then.”
I laughed, feeling light and free. Festive. Horny. “Nick?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Kiss me under the mistletoe?”
“You got it, babe!”
* * * *
~ T H E ~ E N D ~
Happy Holidays and thank you for reading my books! You make my world a better place.
Unwrapped
A Holiday Romance
By KB Winters
Copyright © 2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
Copyright and Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Chapter One
Steven
The four words I’d been dreading for days: Maxwell, report to Command.
How typical.
When I’d put in the request to take leave over the Christmas and New Year’s holidays, I knew it would be a stretch. After all, I’d been shot down four years in a row. Never able to get back stateside to spend the holidays with my family and friends in California. So, when I found out my extended leave was approved, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And apparently, it just did, about twenty minutes ago.
I was a First Class Petty Officer in the United States Navy. Special ops. A Navy SEAL. Being away from home, missing birthdays, holidays, and special events were unfortunately a part of the deal. I couldn’t complain. And, if I was being honest, I wouldn’t. I’d been in the Navy for damn near ten years now, and stationed in the Middle East for the last five. I busted my ass to get to where I was and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I lived for the thrill of the hunt, the high stakes missions, and the deep-rooted feeling that every time I was sent out on another mission, the world would change. It was addictive.
But being told to report to Command a week before I was supposed to be grabbing a flight back home for a little R&R was still a stinging blow.
I paused outside Captain Tucker’s office, taking a moment to throw my shoulders back and wipe the grimace from my face. With a deep breath, I checked my uniform to make sure I was squared away and knocked on the door. Two sharp raps with the backs of my knuckles.
“Come in.”
I pushed inside and saw Captain Barry Tucker hunched over his desk, scribbling frantically. Judging by the size of the mountain of paperwork to the left of his elbow, he was in for a long night. “Captain?” I said, halfway clearing my throat to get his attention.
He finished his sentence and then dropped his shiny black pen to the desk. Captain Tucker was in his mid-fifties. A decorated officer who had served all over the world. He was a respected man and for good reason. He’d always been fair with me, but there was something in his dark expression and commanding presence that made my knees a little shaky whenever I was called to his office for a one-on-one meeting. “Maxwell, good. Sit.”
I did as he asked, lowering into a chair opposite his impressive desk. Word on base was that he’d had it shipped over to the Kuwait command post all the way from California where he’d served as Commanding Officer at the SEAL’s home base and training facility in San Diego. Why, I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was a comfort to have something familiar. Homey. In such a foreign place. I was used to the Middle East. I’d lived in half a dozen countries since my first trip over and found it easy to blend into the different bases I’d been stationed at.
“At ease, Maxwell. For fuck’s sake.” Captain Tucker removed his thin wire-framed glasses and scrubbed his palms against his eyes. Only when he dropped his hands back to his desk did I notice the dark circles.
I relaxed my posture and crossed an ankle to the opposite knee. “Petty Officer Ruthers said you needed a word?”
Tucker slipped his glasses back on. “Yes. Listen, I know you’re set to get outta here in a few days, but I just got word from Harriet—”
I groaned. Harriet Jenners. The heart-of-steel bitch CIA liaison who liked to remind our team who was in charge. She was a total ball buster.
Captain Tucker didn’t reprimand me. In fact, the expression on his face looked as though he silently agreed with the sentiment. “The CIA needs our help with a mission. They requested you.”
“How flattering,” I growled.
Captain Tucker cracked a smile. “Yes. Well, I told them you need to be out in three days. But…” he trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blanks. But the CIA doesn’t give a rat’s ass whether or not I get off to my leave or not. It’s mission first—whether I like it or not.
When it came to matters of national security, the eggnog could wait.
“Sorry, son. But it’s their call. Harriet’s on her way here now and she’s bringing your handler for the mission. John Laine.”
I nodded. That was a relief at least. John and I had worked together before. He was one of the good ones.
Maybe this wouldn’t be a complete clusterfuck.
* * * *
Two days later, I was in Dubai, dressed like a royal douchebag, with the credentials of a make believe Dutch Banker, and—despite the questionable wardrobe choices—finding it a helluva lot of fun to be a wealthy son of a bitch for the weekend.
“Now, don’t let me embarrass you too much out here,” I said, flashing a grin at John as we took to the resorts’ world famous golf course. I reached into my fancy golf bag, retrieved the biggest club I could find, and walked up to the tee box and placed my ball on a shiny gold tee I had picked up in the pro shop just minutes earlier. I fuckin loved spending someone else’s money, besides this whole mission was cutting into my leave, and I’d much rather be packing for my trip home right now instead of chasing some bad guy for the tenth fucking time.
“You just keep trash talking,” he said, smirking back at me.
I lined up the shot, truthfully, I didn’t know the first thing about golf, but how hard could it be, right? I gripped down hard on the club and took the hardest swing I could. Thankfully, I didn’t make a complete ass out of myself, and actually managed to hit the damned thing. John whistled as the white ball sailed up the fairway and landed not too far off the green. “Damn. You sure you never played before?” he asked, holding his hand above his eyes to shield the mid-afternoon sun.
I laughed and came to stand beside him. I clapped him on the shoulder. “Just call me Tiger.”
John rolled his eyes and went to take his own shot. He ended up half a dozen yards from my ball—and none too happy about it. My second shot went straight into a small pond, as did
my third and fourth shots. Golf was starting to take on a whole new dimension and I wasn’t digging it.
After we finished the first hole, we made our way up the course in our golf cart, heading for the second hole. On the way, we could speak plainly, without any fear that one of the resorts’ employees would overhear us. John drove the golf cart and kept his face ahead as he asked, “You ready for this?”
I nodded. “Born ready, Laine. You should know that about me by now.”
“All right. From our intelligence, Jal Mante should be up ahead. His T-time was twenty minutes ago. His party was small, a trio of men, I’m assuming at least one of them is a guard. Probably armed.”
Instinctively, I placed my hand at my hip, forgetting that I wasn’t armed. At least not at my waist like usual. No, the fancy golf threads hadn’t allowed for it. Instead, my gun was at my ankle and there were AK-47’s tucked into the golf bags, mixed in with the clubs.
Hopefully, we wouldn’t need them.
Jal Mante was a known terrorist who liked to play both sides. After his latest double cross, the CIA was tasked with removing him from the game. We were to take him in—alive—for interrogation about his customers. The kind of parasitic men that were hell bent on blowing up the whole damned world.
Then, once Jal Mante was in CIA custody, I’d be relieved from duty, put on a plane, first class, back to the states for a month. I sighed at the thought, letting my mind wander from the mission for just a moment, as we drove up the slight incline to the next hole on the course.
Home. God, it had been forever since my last visit. And even then, it had only been a long weekend and I’d barely had time to sleep off the damned jet-lag before I was back at the airport to fly back overseas again. It had killed my parents to send me back so soon. They understood—and appreciated—my service but I also knew that they missed me terribly, even if they didn’t load me down with guilt by voicing their emotions out loud. I was Kent and Georgia Maxwell’s only child. I’d joined the Navy in the middle of my senior year and had shipped off to boot camp a week after graduation. My parents barely had time to clean up from the grad party before they were setting up for my goodbye party.
