“Fuck,” he says. “I forgot. Dammit.”
We both chuckle. He’s obviously going to be asleep five seconds after getting in the door.
“You’re getting married tomorrow, though,” Hal says. “And then you can get laid as often as you like. It’s the law.”
“I don’t think it quite works like that,” I say, amused.
“Course it does,” he says cheerfully.
“I really need to get married,” I reply fervently, and they both laugh.
“You do,” Noah says. “It’s the best thing ever. I’m so happy.”
“Aw.” Hal puts his arm around Noah’s shoulders and kisses his cheek, and Noah pushes him away. Hal does it again, and the two of them wrestle like eight-year-olds.
“Jesus.” Leon stops beside them. “Do I need to intercede?”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” I tell him. We stand back and watch them as they go around in a circle, then lose their balance and fall onto their backs in the snow. They both burst out laughing.
“They’re fine,” Leon confirms, and we leave them to it and continue up the hill.
“Sorry to hear about Fred,” he says. “Haven’t had a chance to say it yet.”
“Thanks.” We go around the common room and head for the studios. “It was a bit of a shock.”
“I can imagine. Leaving my four behind was tough. You always fear something’s going to happen to them while you’re away.”
“I feel guilty,” I admit. “It wouldn’t have happened if I’d stayed.”
“Yeah,” he says, “that’s natural, I guess. But then you’d have missed all this.” He stops and smiles.
Ahead of us, the girls are spilling out of Summer’s suite, coming out to meet us. It’s a lovely scene, as we watch them walk up to their partners and greet them. The snow flutters down, and everyone’s singing to the carol we can still hear echoing in the village below us, “O… star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright…”
Leon goes up to Nix and sweeps her up into his arms. She laughs and puts her arms around his neck as he kisses her. I smile, as Hal finally joins us and goes up to greet Izzy in the same way.
Noah comes to stand beside me, looking through the window of Summer’s suite at the silhouette of Abby standing holding Ethan and rocking him. “I’m getting married tomorrow,” he says.
“You are.”
“I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
I think of how he lost his first wife and his baby, and how he’s been confined indoors on and off for ten years, and tears prick my eyes. “I’m so pleased for you, Noah.”
He looks at me and smiles. “Life turns on a dime, Stef. You need to grab opportunities with both hands and hold on to them as tightly as you can.”
“Yeah.”
“Carpe diem.”
“Yeah, you’re right. You’re also drunk. Go to bed.”
He laughs and claps my shoulder. “Goodnight.” Giving one last look at his wife-to-be, he walks off to his suite with Zach and the boys.
I shove my hands in my pockets, watching Jules talking to Clio and laughing. She looks as if she’s had a good evening.
They kiss goodnight and Clio goes off with Ryan, and Jules turns and walks toward me. “Hey, you,” she says.
“Hey.” I watch as she completely misses the fact that there’s a small snow-covered bush by the side of the path, and she stumbles over it and falls straight into my arms.
“Oops,” she says, and her face flushes.
“Good evening?” I ask, amused. I wait till she’s steady, then release her.
“Fantastic.” She hiccups, then giggles. “Sorry.”
I give a short laugh and offer her my arm. She takes it, and we walk slowly back toward our suites.
“Abby’s so excited,” she says. “It’s incredibly sweet.”
“Yeah, Noah too. I’m pleased for them both.”
“Two pieces of the same puzzle,” she says. “It must be nice to have that kind of trust in someone. That kind of support.”
“Mm.” I lead her up the path to her front door.
She attempts to put her key in the hole, misses, and laughs. “Shit. I’m drunkerer than I thought.”
My lips curving up, I take the key from her and promptly miss the keyhole myself, and we both laugh. Finally, I insert it and open the door. She turns and smiles up at me.
“Goodnight, Stefan.”
“Goodnight, Juliet.”
She grins. “You’re the only person who ever calls me that.”
“It’s a pretty name. It seems a shame not to use it.”
She steps inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Of course. It’s going to be a good day.”
“Let me know if you hear anything about Fred.”
“I will.”
She blows me a kiss, goes inside, and closes the door.
I purse my lips. Far in the distance, I can hear sleigh bells. Santa’s getting ready, I think. I wonder what he’ll bring me for Christmas?
The snow falls lightly, coating my shoulders and arms. Everyone’s gone inside now, and it’s quiet and peaceful.
I turn and look toward the forest, and I hold my breath. There’s the Arctic fox, right on the edge, watching me, a white shape against a white background. We stare at each other for a moment, and then he vanishes into the trees.
Slowly, thoughtfully, I walk back to my suite and go indoors.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jules
I drink a whole bottle of water, then crash out in bed and fall into a deep sleep.
When I wake, I’m still in the same position, face down and arms splayed, so I don’t think I’ve moved at all. I shift and groan as my muscles protest, get up and visit the bathroom, then go downstairs for another drink. I find some orange juice in the minibar in my fridge and drink that, which strips away the sour taste in my mouth.
It’s cool in the living room but not cold. I check my phone and discover it’s nearly four-thirty again. Odd how I seem to wake at exactly the same time each day. I feel wide awake now, too. I go back upstairs and climb into bed, snuggle down under the duvet, and look out at the dark sky, which is heavy with snow.
My stomach has butterflies. I feel as if something magical is going to happen, although I don’t know if it’s because it’s Christmas Eve or the day of the wedding.
I think about last night and smile. Things are a little hazy after Mom, Georgia, and Ophelia left. The rest of us—bar Abby, Izzy, and Poppy—polished off the bottle of vodka, and there was a lot of laughter and teasing and singing before the guys turned up and we went back to our suites. Did I fall over a bush? I vaguely remember Stefan catching me. And not being able to get the key in the keyhole. I cover my face with my hands and groan.
Then I lower them and look out at the sky again with a sigh. I’d half hoped he might invite me back to his place. But then again I’d probably have fallen asleep, so that wouldn’t have been very romantic.
I think about my conversation with Summer, and what she said about being honest with Stefan. She’s right. We do need to have that open, honest conversation, so I can decide where I’m heading. I don’t want to spoil the day, though, especially if he says it’s definitely over. I want to hold on to the magic a little longer.
My phone, lying on the bed beside me, beeps, announcing the arrival of a text. I turn my head and look at it, then pick it up. It’s Stefan. It says, Are you awake?
My lips curve up as I unlock the phone and reply. Yep! Four-thirty, as usual.
Me, too, he says. How are you feeling?
A bit hungover, but not too bad. Any news on Fred?
Yes, he’s fine. Both Jim and Rawiri emailed to let me know he’s recovering well, and there’s no sign of bleeding or any issues from the op.
That’s marvelous news!
I thought so.
I pause with my thumb hovering over the phone’s keyboard. Should I? Shouldn’t I? I don’t want
to make a fool of myself. And I don’t want the rejection. I bite my lip.
The phone beeps. What are you up to?
I smile slowly. Lying here looking at the snow.
There’s a moment’s pause, as if he’s plucking up the courage to ask. Then he messages, Want some company?
I sigh and text back, Oh thank God, I thought you’d never ask.
LOL, he replies, I’ll be two minutes.
My heart leaps. I jump out of bed, quickly scrub my teeth, fluff up my hair, undo the top two buttons of my pajamas, spray a tiny bit of body spray between my breasts, then run down the stairs. I’m just undoing the latch when I hear his knock. I open the door, and there he is, already covered in snow even though he’s only walked about ten feet.
He steps inside, scattering snow over the mat, closes the door behind him, and then he cups my face in his gloved hands and his lips are on mine. Filling with joy, I throw my arms around his neck, shivering as the snow soaks into my pajama top, but ignoring it as his lips sear across mine. Oh, it’s heavenly, and I cling to him as he moves me backward into the room, kissing me deeply, his tongue sliding against mine, while my hands pluck at his clothes, desperate to get them off.
He loses no time in unzipping his jacket and pushing it off his shoulders onto the floor. He kicks off his boots, and I continue moving backward, still kissing him, as we go up the stairs to my room. We laugh as we bump into the handrail and slip on the step, but our lips are less than an inch apart, while our hands fumble at each other’s pajamas, undoing buttons and pushing down elastic. By the time we get to the top of the steps, our clothing has vanished, except for our socks.
“I hope you don’t mind,” I begin, reluctant to take them off.
“Don’t care,” he says, and then he lifts me onto the bed, climbs on beside me, and pulls the duvet over our heads.
“Mmm…” I wrap my arms around him and lose myself in kissing him, loving the warmth of his skin, the way his muscles move beneath it. I stroke my hands over his stomach and ribs, around his waist and up to his powerful shoulders and arms. “You’re magnificent,” I whisper, lightly scoring my nails over his biceps.
He shudders. “And you’re so fucking beautiful, you’re making me lose my mind.” He kisses down my throat to my breasts and closes his mouth over a nipple, and I sigh and arch against him as he sucks.
Oh God, I ache with longing and desire. I want him inside me. I reach over to where he’s dropped his wallet on the bedside table, and I take out a condom and tear off the wrapper.
“Whoa,” he says, but I don’t want to wait. I push him up and roll the condom on for him, feeling a surge of smugness as he swells in my hand, and then I pull him down on top of me and wrap my legs around his waist.
He groans and presses the tip of his erection into me, but it’s a tad tricky because I’m not that wet yet. He stops and gives me an exasperated look as I try to move my hips to encourage him to plunge inside. “Slow down,” he scolds.
“Don’t stop,” I plead. I know he’s thinking about taking time to arouse me, maybe even going down on me, and I know it’d be amazing, but right now I don’t want that. “I want… I need this.”
His expression softens. “All right. But let me lead, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”
I nod mutely, willing to do whatever he says if it means he doesn’t move away. So he lowers down on top of me and kisses me, deep, passionate kisses that soon have me sighing, while he rocks his hips, gently teasing my entrance and sliding a little further in with each thrust.
“Relax,” he whispers, stroking up to my breast and squeezing gently, and I sigh and release the tension I’ve been holding on to, because he’s here, with me, inside me, and now is all that matters. “Mmm,” he murmurs, pausing as he pushes forward a little more, and I feel him sink inside me.
“Oh God.” I slide my hand into his hair and tighten my internal muscles around him. “Oh that feels amazing.”
“There’s a way to go yet.” He continues to move and kiss me. “Let me in, sweetheart,” he murmurs against my lips.
Does he mean physically or emotionally? Is he asking me to let him into my heart?
You’re already there. I think the words, although I don’t say them.
I slide my hands down his back, feeling as if the whole world at this moment consists of this frozen country, this snow-covered village, this warm bedroom, this cozy bed under the duvet, this man with the muscular shoulders and back and tight butt, who’s moving inside me.
He kisses down my neck again to my breasts, traces the tip of his tongue around the edge of a nipple, then teases the tip with his teeth, and I moan and tilt up my hips to receive him. It’s like slow torture, being dragged toward the cliff of pleasure a fraction of an inch at a time. He stops moving again and pushes his hips forward, stretching me, filling me, and I gasp and open my eyes to look straight into his blue ones.
“Jules,” he whispers, kissing my cheeks, my nose, my eyebrows. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Me too,” I say back, opening my mouth and letting him dip his tongue inside.
“I’m crazy about you,” he says, kissing down to my breasts and lovingly licking over both nipples before returning to my mouth.
“M-me too,” I manage, hardly able to believe what I’m hearing. His kisses are tender and passionate, and I begin to spiral out of control.
“When I’m with you, I wonder why I worry,” he says, somewhat fiercely. “Nothing else seems to matter when we’re doing this.”
“I know what you mean.” My heart swells. “When it’s just me and you… Everything seems clear.”
“I… aaahhh… haven’t felt like this… aaahhh… before…” He interjects his words with a long sigh as he plunges into me.
I look up at him, my heart banging on my ribs. What’s he saying? “Stefan,” I whisper, shuddering as he changes the angle, pushing up onto his hands and grinding against me.
“I think I’m in love with you,” he says.
I stare at him. He stops moving and looks into my eyes. He seems a little surprised, as if he didn’t mean to say that.
“What?” I wish I could think of something more articulate to say, but that’s the only word I can think of.
He bends his head and kisses me. “I’m not sure I should have said that.”
“I’m confused.”
He kisses me again. “I’m not doing a very good job of this.” He starts moving again. “I probably should have waited until we’d finished.” He runs his tongue along my bottom lip and tugs it with his teeth. He’s playing with me. He’s certainly not upset or angry.
“Did you mean it?” I ask him.
He slides his tongue into my mouth, kisses me deeply, then lifts his head. “Yes. I think I’m in love with you.”
His words are like snowflakes fluttering around in my head.
“You think?” I say. “You’re not sure?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before.”
My jaw drops. He looks amused and kisses my nose. He continues to move inside me, rhythmical, insistent. We’re not having sex now. He’s making love to me.
He kisses me again. “Say something.”
“I know I’m in love with you,” I tell him.
He looks surprised, and my heart softens. He didn’t know that?
“Why?” he asks. “Because you’ve been in love before?”
“Because I’ve been in love with you since I was, oh, I don’t know, twelve?”
He stops moving and pushes forward, going deeper, and we both groan.
“Say it again,” he demands.
“I’m in love with you.” I gasp as he begins to thrust more quickly, filling the air with the sounds of our lovemaking.
“Ahhh… fuck…” He plunges inside me, and then all our capacity to speak vanishes as our bodies take over. I bite hard on my bottom lip as my orgasm hits and cry out as I clench around him, several strong exquisite pulses that almo
st make me sob with their beauty. He kisses me as if he wants to drink in my pleasure, and then stiffens, and I feel his body turn to rock around me and inside me as his climax sweeps over him.
“Ah, yeah,” he says, his hot mouth on mine. “Fuck, yeah. Aaahhh…”
I hold him tightly, tears pricking my eyes. Behind him, snowflakes spin in the cold air, fluttering down and coating the world in white.
Stefan’s in love with me. I don’t know what that means yet, but it sure does feel like the perfect Christmas present.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Stefan
The world is so quiet.
I lie in the semi-darkness, Jules in my arms, and watch the sky lighten just a fraction as the new day begins.
We haven’t spoken since I lifted off her and moved to hold her. There’s so much to say, I’m not sure where to start.
So I close my eyes and just exist for a while. I reach out with my senses and feel her. Her soft body pressed up against mine—arms, breasts, stomach, thighs, calves. Her skin is so soft, as I run my fingers up her back to her shoulder. Her hair smells of cherries today. This girl is like a bowl of fruit; she makes my mouth water. She’s pressed so close against me, it’s like she’s part of me, like we’re one person. The thought makes me smile.
“Why are you smiling?” she says, lazily, like she’s a cat and she’s lying in the sun on a warm summer’s day. Her hand rests on my rib cage, her fingers slowly circling through my chest hair.
“Just content,” I reply. “I like touching you.”
“Me too.” She slides her hand over my chest, up to my shoulders, then down my arms, across my ribs, and over my stomach to between my legs. She pushes them, so I open them for her. It’s not really sexual; she skates her fingers lightly over my thighs to my knees, then back up, her touch light as she explores me. She cups me, then, gently touching, stroking.
“You’re sticky,” she says.
“I wonder why?”
She chuckles, resting her hand in the crease of my thigh. “I like it when you’re inside me.” Her voice is almost too soft to hear. “It makes me feel… complete.”
“I know what you mean.” Once upon a time, Hal and I would have laughed at that sort of talk. Romantic bullshit. You might have said it if you thought a girl wanted to hear it, and it would help you get laid. But I’ve never said that sort of thing and meant it.
My Christmas Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 7) Page 15