A Billionaire for Christmas

“Mm hmm.” His arms were crossed over his chest and he nodded furiously, as though urging me to go on.

So I did. “With both of them the sex was blah.”

“Right. You didn’t find either of them compatible. Yes, yes. You told me this last night. I remember. How exactly does this lead to you standing naked in my flat?”

“Not your flat yet, Dylan,” I teased. “And not naked. I have lingerie on. Purchased just for you.” I uncrossed my legs, stretched them out in front of me, and leaned back on my palms so he could have the best view of my ensemble. “Do you like?”

“I, uh.” He cleared his throat. “I do like. Very much.”

The piercing gaze he hit me with made my heart trip and my skin prickle with goosebumps.

“But that doesn’t explain the, um…” He gestured toward me with his entire hand. “This.”

I chuckled. “I’m getting there. I was getting there last night, too, just, your lips became a distraction.” Maybe I’d gone over the top in the flirtation department, but it didn’t make the statement any less true. Besides, it was worth it to see the color in his cheeks deepen and the crotch of his pants expand while he let himself remember our kiss.

It was especially worth it because of how much his pants expanded. Dang, that man was hung.

After a distracted beat, I went on. “Anyway. After my last breakup, I decided that I needed to get the sex ed out of the way before I settle down. So. Isn’t it kismet that I met you? An experienced man who is only interested in banging? Wouldn’t you like to bang me now? Show me how it’s done?”

He inhaled sharply then clutched his chest with one hand, wiping at his forehead with the other as he fell back against the glass behind him.

I stood up, panicked. “Dylan! Are you okay? Are you having a heart attack?” I rushed to him, but he waved me away and stumbled toward the couch.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. As long as you stay there, several feet from me, I’m fine.”

Not his heart, then, but a good old-fashioned panic attack.

I gave him a lazy grin. “How many feet away? Like is this too close?” I stepped predatorily near him. “Or how about this?” Another step.

“It’s all too close. All of it. You and me in this same flat is too close.” He circled around the sofa, backing away from me as though I were a demon about to put a hex on him.

“Why ever would you say that?” I asked innocently, following every step he took. “If anything, I’d say we aren’t close enough.”

“No, no, no. This is not appropriate. This shouldn’t be happening. You should have your clothes on, for God’s sake. I shouldn’t have even allowed you to come here.”

His rant felt directed more to himself than to me, but I continued to engage. “That’s a terrible thing to say! Aren’t we having fun together? The whole ‘daddy’ game with your realtor? That was a good time, wasn’t it?”

He laughed incredulously as he rounded back to the front of the couch, one arm held out before himself as if to ward me off. “A good time is not the term I’d... Okay, yes, it was a fun bluff, but... Your sister is an employee in my firm! You are twenty years my junior!”

“Is it really twenty?” I’d told him my age, but he hadn’t mentioned his to me. Sabrina hadn’t even been certain. Not that it mattered. The important thing was that we were attracted to each other. That we had chemistry. And we definitely had that, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Yes, I’m sure. Or, it’s nearly twenty. Nineteen, to be precise.”

“Nineteen.” I thought about that for a minute, growing more comfortable with the idea by the moment. “That’s kind of hot, isn’t it? That a woman that you’re interested in who is nineteen years your junior is throwing herself at you? Begging you to teach her a thing or two. Or seven.”

I’d closed in on him while I was talking, trapping him against the armchair. He didn’t realize until he’d tripped and fell backward into the seat, but he’d only caught the edge in his fall and immediately slipped to the ground.

And I slipped right into his lap.

I spread my legs, straddling him the way I had the night before. His breath came fast, but even, and his skin was hot to the touch as I swept my finger across his forehead, brushing away the hair that had fallen there. He locked his eyes on mine, the pupils darkening as they lingered in his stare.

“I’m supposing you don’t need CPR,” I teased. I was terrible, but he was too easy.

His gaze narrowed. “My heart is fine. It’s my morals that I’m struggling with.”