The Billionaire’s Christmas Bride by L. Steele

5

Amelie

"Proposal, huh?" He arches an eyebrow.

"Yeah." I nod. What the hell am I doing? And after I’d blown him… Willingly, I might add… What the hell was that all about?

Not that I have anything against giving a blowjob, but honestly, it’s not something I’ve done before with a man I don’t know well… And that is the problem. With Weston, there had been this instant reaction to him, from the time I’d first seen him. I’d wanted to slap that smirk off his face, then hit him in the dick, right before I pulled him close and smooched the hell out of him. Shit, this…push-pull reaction I am having to him is insane. From the time he’d walked through the patio door, he’d been mean to me. He’d been pushing my buttons, all right, trying to get a reaction out of me. And you know what? I am not going to let him win this David and Goliath game we have going on here. I’d been promised I could have this space over the holidays and I intend to make sure I do.

If it means sharing with this a-hole of a man… This hot and sexy, ripped, 100% macho maleness of a billionaire, doctor… Gulp. Then so be it. I am not going to let him crowd me into corner, or overpower me with his status…. Okay, so maybe I am a little overwhelmed by his uh, larger than life assets…but come on, who wouldn’t be? And that kiss at the end? When I’d flung myself at him…because, well, I am a slut… Fine, fine, so berate me, but I swear, there had been something about the power I’d been able to wield over him, when I had taken him in my mouth, and his body had responded to mine.

Whatever his issues with me… Physically, the signals he’s been broadcasting are clear—he wants me. And let me tell you, there’s something very satisfying in that, in knowing that this powerful man is helpless in the face of whatever it is that our bodies are communicating with each other. And face it…sharing a space with him would be no…hardship… Except for that horrible attitude of his, of course. I’m willing to give him a chance though… Who wouldn’t? Not when he’d kissed me back… He had. He had pulled me to him, closed that big sexy mouth of his over mine and kissed the hell out of me… Enough for my knees to go weak, for my pussy to clench, and my panties to dampen all over again, like I’d just run into the Thames. Okay, so maybe not the last comparison, considering the Thames is grimy as hell, but you get what I mean, huh?

"I… I am not leaving," I say.

"Yes, you are," he reiterates.

"Nope."

"Yes."

He leans a hip against the door, and damn him, couldn’t he have, at least, put on some clothes? I mean, this entire encounter? He’s been butt-naked, and it’s a mighty fine butt, and massively corded thighs, and that eight pack…and… Hell, not going down that path right now.

"You’ll want me to stay, I promise you."

"Huh?" He folds his arms over his chest. Those biceps bulge, his shoulders fill the doorway, and it’s not because its narrow. The entrance, I mean.

"I’ll be your housekeeper—cook your food, clean…" I wave a hand in the air, "Considering you’re laid up with that…uh, injury, you’ll need someone to take care of your needs."

"Needs, huh?"

Shit, I hadn’t meant to word it that way, but whatever, at least he’s listening to me.

"You bet." I swing one leg up over the lip of the hot tub, then scramble up and straighten. "You hadn’t thought about how you were going to manage over the holidays without being able to use your hand."

"Hmm." He raises his injured palm, then scratches at his jaw. "You offering to help?"

"Do you want me to help?"

"You want to keep house for me?" He smirks.

I frown. Asshole, of course he'd twist my words around to suit his needs.

"I’d cook and clean the house…" I mutter, " You’d have to pick up after yourself. I am not picking up your dirty laundry."

"What else?"

"What do you mean?" I frown.

"What else can you do for me?" he drawls.

"I could…uh, drive you around, like I already said."

"And?" His lips curl and his eyes gleam.

Oh, no, no, he’s not getting at that."Whatever it is you’re thinking, you can forget about it," I huff.

"How do you know what I am thinking?"

"A man like you has only one thing on your mind."

"As opposed to a woman like you?"

"I’m not the one walking around naked."

"Does it bother you?"

"Of course, it bothers me." I swipe my hair over my shoulders. "How would it feel if I were to walk around without clothes?"

"Are you offering?" He smirks.

I throw up my hands, "Oh, forget I said anything. Clearly, this entire discussion is going nowhere… Meanwhile—" A whine sounds from beyond him, "Don’t keep Max waiting. Feed the poor thing, will you?"

He scowls, "Don’t tell me what to do."

"Oh, my God." I plant my hands on my hips, grimace when that dislodges more water from my clothes. "You’re bloody impossible."

"And you’re staying out here."

He walks inside, slams the door behind him. The hell? I race forward, try the door. It’s locked. Of course, it is. I bang on it. "Weston, you asshole, let me in."

No answer, not that I expected one… But how dare he simply…lock me out? I kick at the door. Pain shoots up my leg. I groan, then glance around the patio. There are heaters out here around the hot tub, so I’m not cold. The wind blows, and I shiver… Okay, scratch that. I won’t freeze, but damn, if I am standing around here waiting for that bastard to come back and get me.

I stalk past the tub, jump down onto the grass. I walk around the side. Ha, he’s going to keep me out the house, is he? Not if I can help it. I break into a sprint, jog up the field surrounding the house, around to the front. Reaching the door, I find it…closed. Bugger. I try the door handle, and it’s locked. I throw up my fists, ready to punch my way through…? As if that would help… Think… Think… What can I do…? I walk down the steps, get back into the car…search for my phone. Shit. My handbag—I left it inside the bloody house, along with my chef's satchel. Argh!

I slam my palm on the steering wheel, and the horn blares. Hell. I press down on the horn a little longer. I’d left the keys in the ignition… So, at least, I am mobile, but without my phone and my wallet... Hell, even if I went out into the village… which is a 45-minute drive away, I couldn’t do much. Damn it, I can’t even call anyone for help.

Ugh!I grip the steering wheel, take a deep breath, then another. Don’t lose it. You can think it through. He isn’t going to leave me out… Nah! He wouldn’t…would he? Damn it. It would be just like that reprobate who has chocolate tarts for brains to do something exactly so…assholish. Argh! Anger ladders up my spine. I swipe my wet hair out of my eyes… Great. Here I am, soaking wet, with no dry clothes in sight… Uhm, no, I do have my suitcase where I left it outside. There’s a distinct boom, then drops of water drizzle down. Shit. That doesn’t help. No way am I going to get soaked all over again. I snatch up the keys, step out of the car and lock it. Then run over to my suitcase… I drag it up the steps to the front entryway, and place it against the wall.

The retrace my path down the steps, then around to the back porch.

The wind blows. I shiver and step closer to the warmth emanating from the tub. Hmm. Should I? I glance around for the controls, spot a switch. When I throw it, the bubbles begin to churn in the tub. I dip my hand, and yep, the water’s warm. I turn the dial further toward the red. With the rain smattering outside and the floor patio heaters going full force… Well, it is not too bad. But that doesn’t get me inside the cabin. I hear scratching at the door—Max trying to get out again.

Okay, I’m not going to stand around here, as if waiting for him… I am going to… I grab the hem of my blouse, pull it off. I hear Weston talking to Max, then the sound of the door being unlocked. I strip out of my jeans. The door begins to open. I race toward the tub, jump inside, unhooking my bra at the same time.