The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas

“Not.”

“Jack—”

“Me, you, bed.” He punctuated his words by pointing with his index finger. “This is not optional.”

“Women usually respond well to that tone, do they?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had to order a woman into my bed before.”

Kristy moved toward him, putting some swagger into her step. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Yeah,” said Jack, hot eyes following her progress. “That’s what I’m doing.”

She stopped in front of him. “Well, good luck with that.”

“I’m not going to need luck.”

“No?”

He scooped her into his arms. Before she could do anything more than gasp in surprise, he marched across the room and deposited her on top of the duvet.

“No luck required,” he stated, staring down at her.

She propped herself on her elbows, trying to look affronted, even as a grin crept out. “You cheated.”

He grinned in return. “Who cares? I won.”

“And how much satisfaction is there in that if you cheated?”

He leaned down, bracing a hand on either side of her, bringing their faces close together. “Quite a bit, actually.”

Kristy could feel an awareness humming through her body. “I will escape,” she warned in a whisper.

He raised his eyebrows. “You think?”

“The minute you’re asleep.”

“Well, good luck with that,” he parroted.

“I’m not going to need luck,” she countered.

An hour later, Kristy realized that what she really needed was a crowbar.

Jack’s arm was latched firmly around her waist, anchoring her, spoon-fashion, to his body. His breathing was deep and even, so she was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep. But his grip hadn’t slacked off one bit.

She was well covered, having passed over the filmy ivory and peach negligee Jack had secretly bought her in Las Vegas in favor of an oversized T-shirt. The shirt fell past her knees and was thicker than flannel. Still, Jack’s forearm was warm and intimate against her stomach.

She wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, she could have easily fallen asleep. But it was a matter of principle now. She couldn’t let him win this particular war.

She wrapped her fingers around his thick wrist and pulled against his arm.

His response was to mutter in her ear and snuggle closer, drawing her buttocks tight against the cradle of his thighs, his hand slipping lower, cupping her hip bone.

She froze, willing her body to ignore the sexual signals he was sending out in his sleep.

But goose bumps rose on her skin, and a thick pulse started deep in her abdomen. She squirmed, trying to get away from the sensations. But that only made things worse. Her nightgown rode up to midthigh, and the friction of Jack’s hand through the fabric of her gown made the goose bumps tingle with desire.

She squirmed again, scrunching her eyes shut and biting down on her bottom lip. Desire throbbed freely now. Her toes curled and her muscles began to clench. Her nipples tightened as his breath fanned against the back of her neck.

She straightened her legs, but that brought the back of her thighs against his hot body. Skin on skin, inch after glorious inch. Her hands curled into fists. Oh, this was going to kill her.

His hand moved, and her hips flexed involuntarily backward as a gasp escaped from her lips.

He sucked in a tight breath, and she realized he was awake.

She stilled, expecting him to say something. She was embarrassed, but, more than that, she was completely aroused.

His body hardened against her.

He gave her a few moments to protest, but then his thumb drew a lazy circle around her navel. His fingertips were still snug against her hip. She knew she should say something, knew she should stop him.

But cocooned by his warmth, with the Christmas lights twinkling through the big windows and his strong body enveloping her, she couldn’t bring herself to break the moment.

His lips touched the back of her neck. They parted, turning the brush into a kiss.

She really had to stop him.

If she didn’t stop him right this second…

Her fists curled tighter, nails biting into her palms.

His fingertips fanned their way down her thighs. They encountered bare skin. She held her breath as they trailed their way back up.

His kisses worked their way around her neck. He kissed her ear, her jawbone, her cheek, while his fingertips brushed her downy curls.

Then he drew another strangled breath. “For God’s sake, tell me no.”

She tried, but she couldn’t form the word.

He kissed the corner of her mouth.

She turned her head to meet him, angling her body, tipping her chin.