The Billionaire’s Christmas Bride by L. Steele

26

Weston

Shut up, shut up. What the fuck are you saying? Why did you have to take everything that happened between the two of you and make it into something twisted?

Because I can?I tense my shoulders.

Because that last time I’d taken her, the way I had kissed her had been…different. It had meant something… Don’t ask me what… I have to figure that shit out, but holy fuck, that had gone beyond fucking… It’s the kind of experience you don’t forget, which is why I am back here, watching as her gaze narrows. As she tightens her lips, as the color fades from her cheeks. As she swallows, then folds her arms around herself. "Excuse me?" Her voice is low but firm, "What did you say?"

"You heard me." I fold my arms over my chest, mirroring her… Because she’s right, that NLP shit works… Why the hell am I echoing her words? I widen my stance, glance down at her, "I’ll pay for the remaining time I bought from you, as long as I can—"

"Fuck me?"

I tilt my head. "I am not going to repeat myself."

She swallows, "So, this is it?" She hunches into herself, "That’s all this is to you? A transaction?"

"I told you from the beginning, that’s all it was." I lower my chin. "Wrong place, wrong time… Although, perhaps it was the right occasion for you, huh?" I drag my gaze down her body, pausing at her breasts, then at the gorgeous flesh between her legs. My dick throbs and my balls harden. Of course, I still want her. That hasn’t changed. I’ll have to do my best to get her out my system; there is no other way out. "Well?" I roll my shoulders, "What do you say?"

"Why are you doing this?" She stares. "Why are you suddenly conforming to your alphahole persona?"

"This is who I am." I raise my shoulders. "Deal with it."

"I don’t believe it." The water rises up to over her breasts. "What happened in the last few seconds that you went from…?”

"Dominant?"

"With a heart…to an unfeeling brute who reduces everything to a transaction."

"If you thought everything that happened between us was anything but, you’re wrong."

"I’m not." She brings up her knees, covering the sight of both her pussy and her breasts.

My fingertips tingle. Lean over, pry those long thighs apart. Get in there with her, bury your face against her sweet cunt and bring her to orgasm. Make her forget everything that you said since you walked back in here. I lock my thighs, dig my feet into the floor.

"What’s different between how it was to what it is now?" I frown. "I was going to pay you. I am still paying you… Only now there’s sex—the penetrative kind— thrown in for good measure." I shrug, like it means nothing to me.

She doesn’t react. Shit, that’s not a good sign. I’m not that blind; I know exactly how I affect her when I curl my lips and command her.

"Well?" I tap my toes, "You in or out?"

She swallows. "Don’t do this," she whispers. "Don’t reduce what we had into something it’s not."

"You’re the one who’s making it out to be something different." I glare down at her. "Take it or leave it."

She pushes her forehead into her knees. "I… I can’t do it."

My heart begins to thump. Sweat beads my forehead. Shit, don’t make her choose, you wanker. The hell are you doing pushing her away? You had it all…for a few seconds. You could have handled this differently, shown her exactly how much you care. You could have, for once in your fucked-up life, done the right thing. Instead… I’d decided to go all billionaire alphahole on her… Because…face it, that’s what I am. That’s how I intend to stay, and no sassy, curvy, chocolate-scented, gorgeous woman like her is going to reveal the feelings that churn under the surface.

"Fine, then." I turn and stalk to the door, then pause. "I’ll pay you for the two days you spent with me, and we leave tomorrow."

I pivot, move forward.

Wait for it. Wait for it.

"Hey," she calls out. "What did you mean? Where are we going?"

I turn, glance over my shoulder, "To meet my family of course."

"It’s not yet Christmas." She rises to her feet and the water flows from her shoulders down her waist, to splash onto the almost-filled bath tub. Her blonde hair curls over her forehead, sticks to her shoulders. The scent of…chocolate—of course, what else—laced with something honeyed and spicy swirls through the air.

"It’s almost Christmas." I raise a shoulder.

"It’s not the same," she scowls.

"It is now,” I curl my lips, “because I say so."

She swallows, "And if I say no?"

"Are you saying no?" I glare at her.

She pales, opens her mouth.

I shake my head.

She purses her lips shut.

"Well?" I snap.

"No," she replies.

"What?" I growl.

“No, I’m not saying no.” She winces, "I mean, yes, I’ll come with you to meet your family. But that New Year’s Eve thing? You can forget that."

I glower at her.

She juts out her chin, snaps back her shoulders, and doesn’t blink.

Bloody hell, that sass of hers is back, thank fuck. Damn, if I don’t hate it when her spirit is cowed.

"Fine."

"Fine." She tosses her head.

I turn.

She calls out again, "But the roads, the storm..."

I can’t stop the grin that splits my face.

I wipe it off of my face, turn, "What storm?"

"Uh, the one that caused the roads to close and the electricity—"

The overhead lights come on and she blinks. The brightness pours over us, envelops us, cuts the space between us as if it’s a barrier. How strange. Apparently, this time, the darkness had been kinder.

"Oh, and Princess?"

She angles her head.

"Shut off the tap, will you?"