The Billionaire’s Christmas Bride by L. Steele

9

"I could give up chocolate, but I am not a quitter."

-From Amelie's diary

Amelie

Warmth, heat, the hardness of his chest digging into my breasts... But his lips…his lips… They’re soft and coaxing…and completely not what I expected. Not after how he’d grasped my shoulder… Certainly not, after how he’d kissed me that first time…all demanding and dominating… Oh, he’s still ruthless, hellbent on taking from me… But with his mouth, he seduces me. He nibbles on my lower lip and I part them. He swipes his tongue across the seam of my mouth, and a moan trembles up my throat. He releases my shoulder, only to cup my cheek. His warm breath mixes with mine and I draw of his in greedy gulps. I want to bottle that essence of his, roll around in it, absorb in it, bathe in it, let it tease my core, slink up my channel… Argh! Everything in me wants him to lick me down there with as much finesse as he’s demonstrating with his very able mouth. "Wes," I hear myself plead with him… Did I say that aloud or was I simply thinking it in my mind? He tilts his head, easing his tongue over mine. A ripple of pleasure darts up my spine. All thoughts drain from my head. I move in closer, strain against his chest. Bring my arms around his—a whine cuts through the air.

I pull away, but he holds me in place. "Ignore him."

"But…"

"The pooch will survive."

"He’s getting restless," I insist. "Did you take him out earlier?""

"Open the door and let him out."

"No." I stare at him. "Out here?"

"It's a gated property," he replies.

I turn down my lips and he glares at me. A frisson of something—nervousness, fear, something I can’t quite identify—quivers in my stomach. I lick my lips and his gaze drops there. Those colorless eyes seem to turn into mirrors—cold, hard. He could cut me, and hurt me, rip me apart, and I’d enjoy it all. I gulp, the sound audible. He jerks his chin up, then draws in a breath. "Fuck," he growls, "you owe me."

"What—?

He reaches across me and I shudder, then almost cry out when he straightens. He cuddles the puppy against his chest, "Stay," he growls.

Is he talking to me? Before I can respond, he’s shoved open the door, and stalked toward the house. What the hell is he up to?

He pushes open the door, squats down to lower the puppy to the floor, then pats him. Even now, when he’s angry with me, he can’t resist making sure the puppy is comfortable, huh? The man may disagree, but it’s clear to me that he has a soft spot for the pet… Which, surely, shows that he isn’t all that alphaholish as he makes himself out to be, huh?

He rises to his feet.

Which doesn’t mean I am going to stay out here and wait for him to come back. And what? Finish what he started? The way he’d kissed me earlier… Softly, gently, revealing that part of him I’d sensed under those layers of brutishness… If he did it again, I know I’d give in to him… And hell, if I am going to let that happen. At the very least, I am not going to give in to him that easily.

He turns.

I shove open my car door and race out.

"Hey," his voice follows me.

I pick up speed.

"Stop. Where are you going?"

Good question. If I’d wanted to get away, all I'd have had to do was turn the keys, start the car, and drive away; I'd have had to wait while the gates opened, but I'd have managed to leave. Which I hadn't.

And it's not like I can leave the property, considering I have no way of opening the gates now.

So, what is this? A dash for freedom, to show him that I don’t mean to obey him? Do I want him to chase me? Either way, I’m not going to give in so easily.

"Amelie," his voice whips through the still night… My name from his lips…? Ohmigod! A thrill runs down my spine. Moisture laces my core. I increase my pace.

If he wants me, he has to come and get me.

I pound down the driveway.

"Princess." He’s so close. Adrenaline laces my blood; a giggle catches in my throat. What the hell am I doing? What’s wrong with me? Am I toying with him? With myself? Doesn’t matter. This is one race I plan to win. I plan to... Something—someone—his big arms catch me around my waist. I scream as the ground comes up to meet me. The next second, I am hauled up and around, and against that firm chest. Heat from his body surrounds me, envelops me; my thighs clench; my scalp tingles. A burst of excitement ignites in my veins. "Let me go," I squeak.

"No."

He drops my coat—he'd picked it up from the car?—and yanks me up to my toes, thrusts his face into mine, "Where the hell do you think you are going?"

"Somewhere… Anywhere… To get away from you."

"What if I don’t let you leave?"

"Do you want me to stay?" I jut my chin, daring him. Say it, do it. Just one word… Anything to show you’re as affected with this…chemistry between us.

He looks me up and down, "I don't care either way."

Jerk.My insides twist; anger sputters up my spine. He releases me so suddenly, that I stumble. Then right myself. Goddamn him.

I stand there and watch that snickerdoodle of a man bend to pick my coat.

He straightens and his shoulders once more block my line of sight. I take in how his waist tapers down to meet his powerful thighs. My mouth waters. My fingers itch. I want to reach out and trace the cut abs outlined by his shirt.

His lips kick up. Heat flushes my cheeks. Of course he is well aware of the effect of his nearness on me.

He tilts his head, "Have you decided?"

I peer up into his face, rake my gaze across his strong features, that mean upper lip, his broad jaw. My nipples pucker and my toes curl. What would happen if I stayed? And if I leave? Will I always wonder how it would have been to spend a few days with him?

"Amelie?" His voice is impatient.

"I.... I...am not sure," I stutter.

He peruses my features. "Turn around," he orders.

I do. I sense him close the distance between us, then he drops the coat over my shoulders. I shove my hands through the sleeves, and he pivots me to face him. I stare at that broad chest that’s going to haunt my dreams for a long time. Hell.

He places his knuckles under my chin, applies pressure so I have to tilt my head up. I meet his gaze.

"You can leave now," his voice is harsh, "or you can come into the warmth."

"Come into the parlor, said the spider to the fly," I mumble.

"Oh, you’re no fly, Buttercup." He grunts, "More of an annoying, pesky mosquito."

"And you’re what…an octopus?"

"I can certainly wrap my arms and legs around you in a similar fashion." He chuckles. "To keep you warm, of course."

"Of course." I draw in a breath, "Fine, I’ll stay."

"Good."

"On one condition."

"You don’t make the rules, babe." His voice is soft, almost playful. His eyes take on that flinty look I’m coming to anticipate, and hate. My toes curl.

"But I’ll let you have your say," he adds, "this time."

"You…you’ll sleep on the couch," I state.

"No."

"Fine, I’ll sleep on the couch." I tip up my chin.

"You think I’d let you do that?"

"Why not?" I scowl.

"A deal is a deal." His grin widens, "Six days—same house, same bed. You’ll cook and clean and do everything I ask of you. Every day you complete, I deposit one million pounds in your account."

I gulp. OMG, I’m going to do this. I am. I can’t turn this down. I tried. I went so far as trying to run away, but who am I kidding?

I can never turn down a challenge; and I admit, a tiny part of me is curious about whether I can actually resist him. I have to, of course. Otherwise, I’ll lose any measure of self-confidence I have in myself.

I pull back; his hands drop away. I tug the coat closed, then turn and walk around him toward the house. I reach the porch steps, then turn around, "Coming?"

He scowls. My insides knot. Guess he’s not happy I took the lead. Too bad. I don’t care that he’s pissed-off. That seems to be his perpetual state of mind. But why does he have to be so hot when he glowers at me? I reach the door, then turn again. "Would you bring in my remaining luggage, while you’re at it?" I suppress a giggle as I walk into the cabin.