The Perfect Gift: A Christmas Billionaire Sexy Romance (Three Wise Men Book 1)

by Serenity Woods

  “Mmm.” She placed her hands on his chest and pushed herself up. “Ready?”

  “Hold on.” He slid a hand between them and held the condom while she lifted herself off. Then he stood and disposed of it before sinking back into the water with a contented groan.

  Erin went to sit beside him, suddenly shy at the thought of what they’d done, and how easily he’d pleasured her. As she moved past him, however, he caught her arm. “Come here, you.” He turned her in the water so she was facing away from him, then, catching her around the waist, he pulled her back against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

  Erin snuggled back, enjoying being imprisoned by a pair of muscular arms. He nuzzled her ear, and she tipped her head to the side to give him better access.

  “Happy birthday,” he murmured, placing kisses on her wet skin.

  She sighed. “Mmm. Merry Christmas.”

  He chuckled. “Have you had a nice day?”

  “It was a perfect gift, thank you.”

  “What was?” he teased, nibbling her earlobe.

  She splashed him. “Staying here and having dinner. Although the sex was pretty good too.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I have to say I thought it was fantastic.”

  Her lips curved up. “I’m glad.”

  “Do you want another whisky?”

  “Ooh yes. A small one.”

  Keeping one arm around her so she couldn’t move away, he placed ice cubes in the glasses, held the bottle so she could pull out the cork, and splashed a little liquid over the ice. After replacing the bottle, he gave her a glass and held his to it. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” She sipped the whisky and lay back against him, looking up at the stars. “This whole evening is almost perfect, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t think there’s any ‘almost’ about it.” He kissed her hair.

  “I’m glad.”

  They chatted for a while, finishing off their whisky, enjoying the warm water and the balmy night. But eventually Erin knew it was time for the evening to draw to a close.

  She held up her hands, showing him her wrinkled fingers. “I’m turning into a prune.”

  “Yeah, we’d better get out I suppose.” He sounded as reluctant as she felt.

  They rose and stepped out of the tub, and dried themselves off with the big, fluffy towels. Erin’s cheeks warmed as he finished before her and leaned against one of the pillars, watching her. What would happen now? Would he say what a nice night it had been and go back to his room?

  “Thanks for a lovely evening.” She finished drying her legs and walked to stand before him, holding the towel to her breasts.

  “You’re very welcome.” He looked amused at the way she was covering herself after what they’d done. Unlike her, he didn’t bother to try, and she had to fight not to drop her gaze from his face.

  She nibbled her bottom lip, watching him tip the last drops of whisky from his glass into his mouth along with an ice cube. Her body heated at the sight of his naked, muscular form. Jeez, the guy was gorgeous. She was tempted to lean forward and lick the hollow of his throat where he’d missed a bit of moisture, then run her tongue down to his—

  She blinked. She had to be careful. After all the fun they’d had, she didn’t want to ruin the evening by assuming this was more than it was—a one-night stand.

  And yet… She didn’t want him to go. They’d had such a lovely time, and she wanted to prolong it a bit longer. Was that so terrible?

  “You booked two rooms,” she said.

  He circled the ice in his mouth, his gaze fixed on hers. “Yep.” His eyes were warm, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  Her heart raced. “So, I suppose you feel it would be a shame if you didn’t get your money’s worth.”

  He crunched the cube, his lips gradually curving up as she continued to squirm.

  “What are you smirking at?” she said irritably.

  “I’m wondering how long it’s going to take you to ask me to stay.”

  Her face burned. “I don’t want to assume.”

  He took her hand and led her toward the bed, leaving the glass on the kitchen counter as they passed it. “You make me laugh.”

  “Why is that funny?”

  “After what we’ve just done?” He stopped at the foot of the bed and turned her to face him, took her towel, and tossed it over a nearby chair. Then he pulled her into his arms.

  “I know…” Her nipples tingled where his chest hair teased them. “But even so, I thought maybe we’d completed our transaction and you’d want to…” She bit her lip at the look on his face. “Why are you glaring at me?”

  “I think you should get into bed before I put you over my knee.”

  “Even if you—” Her voice trailed off as his words sank in. “I’m sorry, what?” Her face burned. Was he into kinky stuff? Because she totally wasn’t. Was she? She’d never tried any flavor other than vanilla. She wouldn’t like being tied up and sexually tortured by this man at all. Restrained and forced to lie there while he did all kinds of erotic, unimaginable things to her with his hands and mouth…

  Holy moly.

  He raised his eyebrows as she continued to stare at him. “Erin, it was a turn of phrase.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’ve gone completely scarlet.”

  “I was thinking about handcuffs… and… licking… ” The words came out before she could stop them. Her face burned even hotter. “Damn it. I wish I could stop speaking.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment. “For the love of God, get into bed before I do something I regret.”

  She scuttled under the bedclothes, not quite sure whether he was angry or upset. “Sorry.”

  Shaking his head, he crossed the room and went out onto the deck, retrieved their phones and his wallet, and came back in. He closed the sliding doors, but left the gauzy curtains open so they could look at the stars.

  When he turned and walked back, she realized that he wasn’t angry or upset. The impressive erection he was sporting suggested he was something else altogether.

  He put their phones and his wallet on the bedside table and climbed onto the bed beside her. Pushing her onto her side away from him, he stuffed the sheet between them and pulled her close.

  “Ooh,” she said, feeling the broom handle digging into her bottom.

  “Go to sleep,” he scolded, amused. “You’re intoxicated.”

  I’m not so drunk that I’m not aware I’m already crazy about you.

  Luckily, this time the words stayed in her head. Listening to him mumbling something about irrepressible women who deserved everything they had coming to them, she let her lips curve in the semi-darkness, sighed blissfully as he kissed her ear, then closed her eyes.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Brock awoke, the sky was growing light in the east, and he knew without having to check his phone that it was around his normal rising time of five thirty. Old habits die hard, he thought, even when he’d drunk more than he should have. His head was muzzy, his mouth dry.

  The room was large enough not to be stuffy, but even so he felt hot and sticky beneath the sheet, only realizing as he went to roll over and found he couldn’t that it was because he had a soft, curvy woman pinned against him.

  Erin.

  Everything came rushing back—the lovely evening they’d spent together, the way he’d agonized for ages over whether to knock on her door, the tiny red bikini that had driven him insane, and the long, luxurious sex session they’d had in the tub.

  Wow.

  He shifted onto his back. Erin stirred but didn’t move away, still draped over him, her breasts soft pillows against his ribcage, her thigh silkily smooth against his. He smiled in the semi-darkness. Although Fleur had been affectionate, in bed she hadn’t been a snuggler, and more often than not he’d woken to find her on her side facing away from him, so it was nice to be with a woman who felt the same way.

  A sudden wave of disloy
alty washed over him, unexpected and intense, taking his breath away. He stared up at the canopy above their heads and then gently disengaged himself from Erin’s grip. She still didn’t wake, so he rose from the bed. After briefly visiting the bathroom, he padded over to the kitchen.

  He took a small bottle of water from the fridge, walked to the sliding doors, and opened them to let in the early morning air. Leaning against the doorjamb, he drank half the bottle of water in one go, then lowered it with a sigh and wiped his mouth.

  Down on the beach, the first rays of the sun were falling on the red flowers of the pohutukawa trees. Fleur had loved them, and they’d planted a few in their garden, although she’d not lived long enough to see them flower.

  His throat tightened. It had been two years, and losing her still hurt. He leaned his head against the wood. Last night he’d finally betrayed her, the execution made easier through loneliness and Lagavulin.

  Then he frowned. No, that wasn’t fair, and it was doing Erin a disservice. He hadn’t slept with her just because he was lonely and drunk. Until last night, although he’d missed Fleur, he hadn’t been tempted to move on at all, in spite of Charlie and Matt’s attempts to help.

  It had been Erin who’d resurrected his dead heart, who’d shone bright enough to dispel the shadows he’d inhabited for so long. He’d wanted to be with her, to watch her laugh, to listen to her infectious giggle. She’d entranced him with her red bikini, the way she’d clipped up her hair, with her sheer wonder at the hotel and the sumptuous dinner, and how she’d kissed him on the dance floor, oblivious to the watching diners who’d smiled to see them so obviously captivated with one another.

  Because he was captivated with her. He rolled his head on the doorjamb to look over at the bed, his lips curving at the sight of her sprawled on her front, the white sheet draped over her and just covering her bottom. He could see a swell of breast beneath her arm, the dip of her waist. She’d not been with anyone either since her son was born, and yet she’d given herself to him wholeheartedly, warm and affectionate, meeting his flare of passion with a heat that had thawed him right through. It was all about her.

  Brock had a Playstation at his apartment—he found it a great way to relax, as it was difficult to think about anything else when he was up to his neck fighting zombies or aliens. He felt as if he’d been replaying the same scenario in a game for two years, but finally he’d beaten the boss and discovered the way out, and he was ready to move on to the next level.

  He’d loved his wife—he still did, and there would always be a piece of his heart dedicated to her that nobody else would be able to touch. She’d always be the woman he’d loved for ten years, and he cherished his memories of their time together.

  But he was ready to move on. And at last he gave himself permission to do so.

  He pushed off the doorjamb and walked toward the bed. Leaving the water bottle on the bedside table, he stood for a moment and looked down at the sleeping woman. Her blonde hair lay spread over the pillow, and the rumpled sheets revealed more than covered her. His gaze slid down her body, noting the dip of the sheet between her thighs, the curve of her bottom. She looked soft and inviting, young and healthy, and he wanted to lose himself in her again.

  She turned onto her back and pushed the sheet away down to her waist, obviously hot and sticky the same way he had been. He caught his breath, feeling as if he was peeking at the presents under the tree before Christmas morning. Her full breasts were topped with dusky-pink nipples that were large and relaxed in the heat. He wanted to cover them with his mouth and suck them to peaks, tease them with his teeth until she moaned with pleasure.

  His body stirred, reacting to his erotic thoughts, but he waited, enjoying the anticipation, the thrill of just looking, drinking his fill of this beautiful girl’s bare skin, her womanly curves. The sun was rising, beginning to flood the room with pink light, and he watched her skin glow and glisten, like a shell that had been washed by the tide then left to dry in the sun.

  He already knew he wanted to see her again. There were obstacles to overcome—living a hundred and sixty miles away from each other for a start. But he didn’t care. He wanted her, and Brock was a man used to getting what he wanted.

  He moved to the bottom of the bed, lifted the sheet covering her feet, and crept under it. Slowly, he began to kiss up her body, starting with her toes, moving up her calves to her knees, and then up her thighs.

  She stirred, wriggled, then laughed. “Brock? I hope that’s you.”

  “Nope.” He kissed up her stomach. “He sent me as a special birthday gift.”

  “It’s not my birthday anymore,” she reminded him, and yawned.

  “What time were you born?”

  “Uh…” She rubbed her eyes. “Midday-ish, I think.”

  “Then it’s still officially your birthday.” He appeared from under the sheet and kissed up between her breasts to her face. Then he lay on top of her. “Good morning, Miss Sunshine.”

  “Oof. Gosh, you’re heavy.”

  “Don’t care.” He was filled with a hunger for her, and he kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She placed her palms on his chest and pushed, so he lifted his head.

  “I haven’t brushed my teeth,” she said, her cheeks turning an attractive shade of pink.

  “Like I care about that.” He caught her hands, moved them above her head, and pinned them there, liking the feel of her stretched out beneath him. “I’m going to kiss you from head to toe, then make you come with my tongue. Then I’m going to take you and make you come again, oh Erin Bloom with the sunshine hair and the even brighter smile. How’s that for a wake-up call?”

  Her eyes widened. “Goodness. You’ve woken in a good mood.”

  “I wonder why?” Filled with an exultant happiness he couldn’t describe, he kissed her again. After a second of muffled protestations, she gave in and went limp with a sigh. He murmured his approval, then began to kiss down her body again.

  Her generous breasts were warm, her nipples soft and swollen, and he covered one with his mouth and sucked, swirling his tongue over the velvety soft skin until it puckered. He did it to the other one, then went back and forth between them until she squirmed beneath him.

  “Stop wriggling,” he scolded, kissing down her stomach.

  “I can’t help it. You’re making me ache.”

  “Good.” He settled between her thighs, pushed up her knees, and sank his tongue into her folds.

  “Oh… my God.” She lifted her hands in the air as if to stop him, then let them fall above her head. “Oh… that is just… heavenly. I feel like singing.”

  He tried not to laugh and stroked the outside of her thigh. “Feel free,” he said before sliding his tongue into her again.

  She didn’t, but she gave a happy sigh that turned into a long moan as he continued to lick and suck her, teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue. As she gradually relaxed, her thighs loosened and she stretched out, abandoning any final inhibitions. He slid two fingers inside her, groaning to discover her wet and swollen, and loving that he was the one who was giving her such pleasure.

  It wasn’t long before she came, clenching around his fingers in a series of intense pulses, her cries turning to sighs as she fell back and went limp once more.

  Brock withdrew his fingers and moved up the bed to lean over her.

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. At that moment, he was certain he’d never seen anything as beautiful as the sight of the gorgeous blonde beneath him with her flushed cheeks, ruffled hair, and sleepy eyes.

  “Mmm, your turn,” she murmured.

  “Oh no.” He bent and kissed her nose. “Remember what I promised? Now I’m going to take you and make you come again.” He leaned across to the bedside table and picked up his wallet.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. “Again?”

  “Multiple orgasms, Ms. Bloom. Girls are so lucky.”

  “Ah… Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t think I�
��m one of those women who can have those.”

  He laughed. “We’ll see.” Carefully, he tore off the packaging and took out the condom.

  “I’m serious, Brock. But don’t let that stop you having fun.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” He rolled the condom on and leaned over her again.

  Erin looked up into his eyes, and something passed between them, as intense and fast as lightning. The night before, their interactions and lovemaking had been tentative and playful, and he’d concentrated on being gentle and considerate, wanting to make sure she enjoyed herself and that he did everything ‘right’.

  But for the first time, all that vanished, and all he could think about was the soft, sensual body of the woman beneath him, of wanting to plunge into her, to lose himself in her. He’d thought the passionate part of him had died, and although his body still worked, he’d been certain his heart would never again feel that intense need to possess and explore another person’s desire. He’d been wrong, and he couldn’t help but feel exultant at that realization.

  It made his heart thunder, and she must have seen it because her pupils dilated, her lips parted, and the laughter in her eyes faded and was replaced by sultry desire.

  He bent and brushed his lips against hers. “Turn over,” he whispered.

  She swallowed, blinked a few times, then rolled onto her side beneath him and shifted onto her front.

  “Lift up your hips,” he instructed, retrieving a pillow. She did so, and he slid it beneath her, admiring the way it propped her bottom up. He lifted her hair away from her neck and pressed his lips behind her ear, then kissed down her neck and back, following the curve of her spine to her bottom. Lacing his tongue across her skin, he nibbled the plump muscle, making her exclaim and try to push him off.

  “Wow,” he said, “you’re such a wriggler. Talk about make it difficult for a man. Lie still.”

  “Not if you’re going to tickle me. And stop bossing me about.”

  He kissed back up to her neck. “No,” he murmured. “Open your legs.”

  She hesitated, breathing heavily, then did as he said. Smirking, he positioned himself between her thighs and guided his erection beneath her.