Debbi Rawlins - Her Christmas Temptation - The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas / What She Really Wants for Christmas / Baby, It's Cold Outside

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.

His gaze caught hers in the blinking red and green glow. He gently found her center, and her hips flexed in reaction.

Then his mouth was on hers, kissing her passionately, his tongue delving deeply into her mouth as his finger entered her body.

She moaned, and her thighs twitched apart.

He stretched his leg over hers, pressing her into the mattress. His hand set up a rhythm, and the world shifted to the apex of her thighs.

She tried to hang on, but he hit all the right spots. She dragged in a breath, inhaling his scent. She flicked out her tongue, tasting sweet brandy on his lips. She twisted the comforter convulsively between her fingers.

He had to stop.

This was crazy.

She was out of control.

She opened her mouth, but her words turned into a cry, and sensation shattered around her.

He held her tight, slowed his kisses, whispered something that she couldn’t begin to hear around the roaring in her ears. But it sounded nice. It sounded soothing. It sounded like she didn’t have to worry that she’d just let go under his caress.

And then the lights blurred and the soft bed turned into a cloud, as a warm peace settled into her very bones.

IN THE MORNING, Jack hauled himself out of bed at 6:00 a.m. He’d nearly given in to temptation last night, and he didn’t want to think about what he’d do if Kristy woke up sleepy and pliant in his arms. It could go one of two ways, neither of them good, and he owed it to her to at least try to keep his word from now on.

He left her sleeping and showered down the hall. Then he took coffee into the study. It was too early on the west coast even for Lisa, so he logged on to the Sierra Sanchez computer server and hunted around himself. It took nearly half an hour to find a number for Zenia Topaz.

Jack wanted to make contact with the one person who might be able to help him help Kristy. Zenia Topaz was a top fashion designer, and her contract with Sierra Sanchez gave Jack a little leverage. Plus, they’d grown to be friends over the years.

He’d already ordered what he could think of for Kristy last night from the Manchester area. But he didn’t know anything about international fashion design. He had no idea what was in and what was out, what kinds of things Kristy would need to have a running chance at the Breakout Designer Contest. Hopefully, Zenia could give him some advice.

And he wasn’t only doing this for Kristy, he assured himself. He had the best interests of Sierra Sanchez in mind, as well.

“Topaz Fashion,” came the cheerful answer.

“Zenia Topaz, please.”

“She’s expecting your call?”

“No. It’s Jack Osland.”

“One moment please, Mr. Osland. I’ll see if she’s available.” The line clicked.

Jack listened to elevator music, tapping his fingers against the desktop as the minutes ticked by. He realized as he waited that he didn’t spend very much of his life on hold. Other people must. Although he had to remember that Zenia hadn’t been expecting his call.

The line clicked again. “Mr. Osland?” came the same voice, sounding a bit breathless and flustered this time.

“Yes?”

“Ms. Topaz will be right with you. I’m sorry, sir.”

“No problem,” said Jack.

Another click.

“Jack,” Zenia’s voice singsonged.

“Good morning, Zenia. How are things in New York?”

“Things are fabulous. The city’s lit up. We’ve been out skating already. Are you in town?”

“I’m in Manchester. I was wondering if you could help me out.”

“Absolutely, Jack. Whatever I can do.”

“Sierra Sanchez is sponsoring a designer in the Breakout Designer Contest at Matte Fashion.”

“Umm-hmm.”

He swiveled his chair to face the window. “She’s working here over the holidays, and I’d like to pick up a few things for her.”

“What kind of things.”

“That’s the problem. I’m not sure.”

“Okay …” Zenia’s voice was searching.

“Fabric, notions, shoes, I don’t know. I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”

“Do you have her sketches?”

“Not really.”

“Jack—”

“It was a last-minute thing. I think she might be building on something she has, or she might be coming up with something brand-new. Gramps met her—”