A Billionaire for Christmas

I nod, still feeling miserable, and I watch as he shuts his eyes with relief. When he opens them, I see the fire burning in the amber and black of his irises. Without warning, he pulls me to him, then spins us around so that my back is against the dresser. His mouth crushes mine as my hands find his shoulders. As I open to him. Needing and craving him. Wanting to fix with our bodies whatever has gotten off-kilter between us tonight.

“Nikki,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss. His fingers go to the buttons on my blouse, but I push them away, with a shake of my head.

“No,” I whisper. Because as much as I want him now, I want him back in time more.

He studies me, his brow furrowed in question. “You’re mad,” he says, even though I’m certain he knows that’s not the truth. Not anymore.

I shake my head. “Not mad. I swear. But I am eager.”

“So am I. Or couldn’t you tell?”

I reach out to cup his erection, then smile innocently at him. “Shame you don’t have time to do something about that.”

He laughs, then lunges for me. I squeal and make a leap for the bed, but he’s faster and manages to grab me so that we both tumble onto the mattress, him on top of me.

“I could take what I want,” he says, his strong arms pinning my wrists down.

My heart pounds in my chest, excitement building. He could—and I so desperately want him to.

“You can’t take what I will always give you.”

“I’m very glad to hear that, Mrs. Stark.”

“But not today.”

He hesitates. “You’re serious?”

“Kiss me,” I say. “Then go. Because I want you back here by Christmas Eve. And then, I promise you, you can take whatever you want, however you want.”

He studies my face. “A kiss for the road?”

I nod, eager to get lost in the feel of his lips. But the kiss he brushes over my lips is almost chaste.

“No fair,” I protest, making him laugh.

“I’ll take the kiss I really want when I get back.”

“I look forward to it, Mr. Stark.”

He starts to stand, but I pull him to me again. “Damien?”

His smile is gentle. “I’ll be back in time. Trust me.”

“I do,” I assure him. “I trust you to the end of time. It’s the world I don’t trust. Not any more.”

“Oh, baby.”

I know he’s thinking of Anne’s kidnapping, and that wasn’t my intent. “I’m okay, really. It’s just that this was the second disappointment of the day. I had a picture of how this holiday season would go. And so far it’s not working out that way.”

He kisses me one more time. “That doesn’t mean that it won’t in the end.”Chapter Eight“We’re going to have to make an emergency landing.” Grayson’s voice blasted over the jet’s loudspeaker. “Come up here and get strapped in.”

Damien allowed himself one moment of fear before he pushed back from the small table where he’d been working late into the night. This wasn’t a crisis. An emergency landing just meant emergency conditions. They were going to come to a stop on the ground, and they were going to walk away.

And soon he’d walk back to Nikki and the girls.

He repeated that over and over, because, goddammit, there was no way that he was missing Christmas. No way that he was going to end up in a twisted piece of metal in Mexico with his family crying for him and Nikki spending the rest of her life wishing she’d tried harder to make him stay.

No way this trip was going to turn out to be a mistake.

“You’re tense,” Grayson said, as Damien took the co-pilot seat.

“Can’t imagine why. What’s the situation?”

“Landing gear’s jammed.”

“Shit.”

“I know,” the older man said. “But it’s nothing we can’t handle.” Grayson had been Damien’s personal pilot for years and was in charge of overseeing the Stark fleet. He’d also taught Damien how to fly, and Damien knew that if Grayson said he could handle it, he meant it.

Still, the man was operating in an unfamiliar craft. This Gulfstream jet wasn’t part of Stark International’s regular fleet. All the Stark planes had been unavailable, either in for maintenance during the holiday or on the ground at another location. Damien had tasked Ryan to work with Grayson to find a rental, which they’d managed quickly enough.

They hadn’t, however, had time to find a crew. So Grayson was flying and Damien was the co-pilot. And the rest of the plane was as empty and silent as a coffin.

As a church, he corrected. As silent as a church.

Christ, he was on edge today.

Then again, why wouldn’t he be? He’d left his wife and children—hell, he’d left his heart—to go on a secret mission. Secret only because he’d made the executive decision not to tell Nikki about his plan to retrieve her father by coming to Mexico in a private jet. The idea being to avoid the country’s commercial airline pilot and maintenance strike altogether.