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

by Serenity Woods

  Lifting her hips, she closed her eyes as he pressed the tip of his erection into her and then steadied himself either side of her shoulders. He pushed forward a little, just parting her folds, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Tipping his head to the side so he could watch her face, he eased out, then did it again, teasing her entrance and enjoying the way her face creased with pleasure each time he moved.

  “Oh,” she said on the fifth movement of his hips. “Brock… ”

  “Mmm.” The sensation of the most sensitive part of his body slipping through her swollen, wet flesh was like nothing else on earth.

  Bringing up a knee, she widened her thighs, giving him better access, and lowered her head onto the pillow. “Please.”

  He nuzzled her ear. “Please what?”

  “Oh…” She tried to push back against him, but he just waited until she’d stopped and then continued with his slow, shallow thrusts.

  He could sink into this woman’s soft, hot, wet, velvet body forever. Except of course he couldn’t, because he’d be lucky if he lasted another minute of this exquisite torture, and judging by her moans and sighs, she wasn’t far off coming again either.

  Relenting, he pushed forward, and this time he slid all the way in, right up to the hilt.

  Erin’s hands tightened into fists on the pillow, and she gasped.

  “Fuck,” he said, lowering his forehead onto her shoulder. “That feels good.” It was a vast understatement. How had he gone without this for two whole years? It wasn’t just the physical pleasure, it was about sharing himself, and giving someone else passion. No wonder he’d felt so lonely and lost.

  He pulled back and thrust firmly, and Erin tipped back her head and exclaimed. He slid a hand beneath her chin and turned her face around to his so he could kiss her, plunging his tongue into her mouth even as he plunged inside her. She moaned, parting her thighs further, completely his at that point.

  At that moment he knew this wasn’t going to be enough. He wanted to see her again, to do this to her over and over, to explore her and let her explore him, to just be with her.

  It wasn’t the right time to discuss it, though, and so he increased his pace, slipping a hand beneath her to cup her breast and tug her nipple. “You’re going to come for me now,” he murmured, thrusting steadily, knowing the angle was teasing that sensitive spot inside her, bringing her closer to the edge.

  She shook her head and lowered her forehead back to the pillow, saying something that came out muffled, possibly in reaction to the sound of his hips meeting hers with every thrust.

  Balancing on one hand, he slid the other down and beneath her, finding her clit with unerring fingers. He circled his fingers over the swollen button, and she cried out and pushed back against him.

  It was too much, and Brock gave in to his urge to thrust hard, plunging into her slick, hot flesh. She came then, clenching around him, and the pulses of her muscles were so strong that it pushed him over the edge. He swore and closed his eyes, everything tightening inside, so intense and exquisite it almost hurt. For a short while everything was sensation, heat and warmth and pleasure. He clung hold of the moment, loving the notion that Erin was feeling exactly the same, bound to him for a few seconds in the shared bliss of fulfilment.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Limp, hot, and sticky, devoid of energy, Erin blew out a breath and mumbled into the pillow.

  “I can’t hear you,” Brock said, and kissed her ear.

  She turned her face. “I said oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

  He laughed, carefully withdrew, disposed of the condom, and collapsed onto the bed beside her. “Come here.”

  “I can’t move. I’ll never be able to move again. You’ve literally shagged me senseless.”

  “Erin, come here, you daft girl. I want to give you a hug.”

  She shifted onto her side with a groan, but moved happily beneath his raised arm and into his embrace. “Wow,” she said, “You’re something.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. You too.”

  “I mean it. You’re really something.” She meant every word. Sex in the tub had been sensual and exciting, but tinged with the self-consciousness that always accompanies a first time. Brock had been gentle and considerate, and she certainly hadn’t had any complaints, but she’d had the feeling taking the step had been difficult for him, and he’d kept a little piece of himself behind. That was okay—she’d expected it would take a long time for him to move on, thinking that maybe he’d never be able to, and he’d always be comparing his first wife to the other women he went with.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong. There’d been no hesitation in his eyes, no reluctance or awkwardness as he’d said 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. She quivered just to think about those words and the heat in his eyes. At that moment, she knew he’d given her a hundred percent of himself. Up until then, she’d thought him sexy and gorgeous, but it was only when he’d turned her over and taken her with such insistent passion that she felt she’d seen the real Brock shine through.

  He kissed her hair. “I hope it means that when I ask you if I can see you again, you’ll say yes.”

  Erin’s heart stopped for a moment. Lifting up onto an elbow, she looked at him with surprise. He raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t look as if he’d shocked himself with those words.

  “Oh,” she said.

  They studied each other for a moment.

  “You’re seriously surprised?” His lips curved up. “What a strange woman you are.”

  “I… ah… didn’t expect… what you…” She gave up.

  He took a strand of her hair and curled it around his finger. “You don’t have to answer now. But you should know that I will be ringing you every day until you say yes.” He smiled. “You look as if I’ve asked you to fly to the moon with me.”

  “It’s almost as complicated as that.”

  “It’s really not.” He spoke with lazy certainty. How could he be so relaxed about this?

  She frowned. “We live hundreds of miles apart.”

  “Good job I have a plane then.”

  “Oh my God.”

  He laughed. “It’s really not a problem. “

  Resting her hand on his ribs, she leaned her chin on it. This had all happened so quickly, she hadn’t had time to think about the future or where it might lead. He wanted to see her again. Was it possible there was a future ahead for the two of them? She knew nothing about him really, only that he was a pediatrician, and was pretty good in the sack.

  “What’s your favorite color?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “Blue. You?”

  “Orange. I like bright colors. I like being cheerful.”

  He smiled and continued to twirl her hair.

  “What was your wife’s name?” Erin whispered.

  His smile faded and his hand stopped. “That doesn’t seem appropriate,” he said, a little flatly.

  “Sorry.” Embarrassment at her faux pas flooded her. “I know it must have been difficult taking that step last night.” She sat up and ran a hand through her hair. What a stupid thing to have said.

  Brock looked puzzled. “What?”

  “I would never want you to feel you’ve betrayed her memory by being with me.” She felt horrified. They’d been together one night. Of course he wouldn’t want to talk to her about the woman he’d loved for years.

  He stared at her for a moment, then realization obviously sunk in, and he rolled his eyes. “I meant it seems inappropriate for me to talk about another woman while I’m bed with you, sweetheart.” Catching her hand, he lifted it to his lips, his eyes warm. “I swear to you, I wasn’t thinking of anyone but you while we were making love.”

  “Oh.”

  He sighed. “I admit the idea of moving on hadn’t been easy, but once I accepted it was time, there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted you.” He trailed a hand dow
n her arm. “What I had with Fleur—that was her name, by the way—was great, and if she was still alive, I would have been faithful to her. But she died, and while it was terribly sad, I’ve been lonely for a long time. Man isn’t meant to live alone, and although part of me would love to be heroic enough to say I’ll never love again, I’m afraid I’m not that strong a person.” His lips twisted in a wry smile.

  Erin wrapped her arms around her knees. Outside, the sun was rising, flooding the room with a rose light. Fantails played in the palm trees, their banter filtering through, and in the distance she could hear a boat heading out into the ocean, its engine chug-chug-chugging in the early morning air. Apart from that it was quiet, almost hushed, as if the world was listening to this conversation, watching the two of them exploring each other emotionally the way they’d just done so physically.

  “Tell me about when you met Fleur,” she said. “How old were you?”

  He turned onto his side, propping his head on a hand, and gave her an indulgent smile as if he understood that she needed to know these details if she was going to see him again. “I was twenty, she was eighteen. We met at medical school. She wanted to be a GP. We married when she was twenty-one. At twenty-five she was diagnosed with breast cancer.”

  “That’s so young.”

  “Yeah. Her family had a history of it, unfortunately—her mother died from it a few years back, and so did her grandmother. Fleur had a double mastectomy, but a year later they found she’d developed pancreatic cancer. We did everything we could, but she died within six months.”

  Erin rested her chin on her knees. Outside the window, she heard the distinct chirruping of a rosella, accompanied by the flash of its colorful feathers as it swooped down into the bush. It must have been difficult for him being a doctor, she thought, and not being able to make things right for his wife. “Were you there when it happened?”

  “Yes. She died at home, and her sister and father were there too. My parents and brothers were in the room next door.”

  The rosy rays of the sun had turned his skin a warm amber and the silver streaks in his dark hair to gold. Erin let silence settle between them, feeling no need to fill it. He seemed relieved to be talking about it, maybe secretly glad she wanted to know. Running a finger up her leg, he traced her shin, circled her knee, then returned to her foot, apparently enjoying just touching her, just being alive.

  “What do you think Ryan will think about us seeing each other?” he asked. “He doesn’t see his father at all?”

  She shook her head. “They’ve never met.”

  He frowned. “I can’t get my head around that. Not wanting kids and then finding out your girlfriend is pregnant is one thing—I can understand initial anger and resentment. But after that… what’s the point in carrying on that anger?”

  “He still thinks I did it on purpose.”

  “That in itself makes me want to punch him, but I stand by my statement. Even if that were the case and he decided he didn’t want to be with you, that’s no excuse for shirking his responsibilities. He’s a… um…”

  “Fucking idiot?”

  He laughed. “I was going to say rogue but it sounded a bit nineteenth century. Your description sounds appropriate.”

  “No, you’re right. He is a rogue. He’s No Good, as my mother would say. But I’ve done my crying over him, and over the situation. He’s Ryan’s biological father, that’s all.” She turned and lay back down, resting her head on her hand the same way he was. “I’ve long come to the conclusion that blood is one of the least important things when it comes to bringing up children. I’m not saying it’s better for kids to be in a single parent family, and I do think Ryan would benefit from having a father figure around. Kids learn by mimicking their parents, and although obviously I can teach Ryan how to shave when he grows up, I can’t teach him how to be a man. He’ll have to learn that for himself, and part of me is ashamed I couldn’t work things out with his dad for him.”

  “Sounds like he’s better off without him,” Brock said with a snort.

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  His expression softened. “I’m sorry, that was an insensitive thing to say after you’ve been so nice listening to me rattle on about my wife. I’m sure you still have feelings for the guy, even if he was a dick.”

  “I have no positive feelings for Jack whatsoever,” Erin said vehemently. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m embarrassed that I ever slept with the man.”

  “Why did you sleep with him?” Brock asked, amused.

  “He’s a good looking guy. Or was—I haven’t seen him for three years. And he knew how to put on an act, how to pretend to be a good guy. He was attentive and charming, and made me feel like the only woman in the world.” To her surprise, her voice caught. Wow. She hadn’t realized the rat still had an effect on her.

  Looking down at the duvet, she traced a finger around the pattern of a flower. She’d had no clue that Jack wasn’t the honest gentleman he’d made himself out to be until she’d gotten herself pregnant. She hated that she’d been so gullible. It had undermined her natural ability to trust everyone she met, and she disliked that it had made her wary of people.

  Brock slipped a finger beneath her chin and lifted it until she met his eyes. “I’m not like that,” he said softly.

  She thought of how he’d travelled all the way to Whangarei to give her son a present, and how he’d given her such a lovely birthday gift. True, she had given herself in exchange, but he hadn’t asked her to do that. “I know,” she said, trying not to think about her mother’s words. You know he only wants one thing, Erin. And a man with money knows how to get it.

  “I mean it,” he protested. “I don’t claim to be perfect by any means, but I’d never treat a woman—anyone in fact—like that.”

  “I know.” Her smile was natural, and she leaned forward to kiss him.

  Catching hold of her, he lay back on the pillows, pulling her with him, and they indulged in a long kiss.

  “Mmm,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. “I could get used to this.”

  So could I. Erin thought the words, but didn’t say them. She’d been so badly hurt before, and it had made her so wary. Brock wasn’t anything like Jack, and yet somehow he was—both men were used to getting their own way, and ultimately however she phrased it, Brock had manipulated her into coming away with him.

  It’s not the same, she told herself as they looked out at the rising sun. But the uneasy feeling persisted, and wouldn’t go away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Once again, Erin was quiet in the car while Brock drove.

  He puzzled on it as he navigated the winding roads along the peninsula back to Kerikeri. He thought she’d enjoyed herself the night before. And again that morning. He smirked to himself at the memory of their lovemaking, and how he’d made her come not once but twice as the sun came up before they finally decided they should get ready for breakfast.

  In spite of that, she hadn’t responded to his suggestion of seeing each other again with the enthusiasm he’d hoped for. They’d gone for breakfast and had moved on to talking about other things, and so far he hadn’t returned to the subject. Part of him didn’t want to, afraid she would turn him down. But he’d always been the sort of guy to tackle things head on, and so as they took the turn from the peninsula onto the main road back to Kerikeri, he broached it again.

  “What are you up to next weekend?”

  She continued to look out of the window. “Not sure. Christmas shopping, I suppose. Should take all of two minutes,” she added in a mumble he thought he probably wasn’t supposed to hear.

  “So… you’ll be free to come out with me again?”

  “Um…” She looked down at her hands in her lap.

  “The thing is, attached to Auckland Zoo is a company called Sleigh Ride. It takes kids to the ‘North Pole’.” He put air quotes around it. “They get to meet Santa, and there are lots of Christmassy events going on with pengu
ins and carols and stuff. I thought Ryan might like it.”

  She lifted her big blue eyes to his. “You want us to come to Auckland?”

  “I’ll pick you up Saturday morning and we’ll fly down. Go to the zoo. You can stay with me Saturday night in my apartment, and fly back Sunday.”

  “Fly down?” she said faintly. “There wouldn’t be flights available this late.”

  “I have my own plane, Erin. I told you that. How do you think I got up here yesterday?”

  “I assumed you drove in this car.”

  “It’s a hire car. Far too dull for me. I prefer my F-type Jag.” He took the turning for the town center, opened his mouth to tell her about his other cars, saw the look on her face, and closed it again. “What?”

  “I can’t get my head around this. F-type Jags, private jets, flying here, there, and everywhere. Staying in expensive hotels, eating steak, drinking champagne. It’s not part of my life, Brock—it’s all completely alien to me.” Her eyes were wide, and she looked slightly panicky.

  He moved his gaze back to the road. “I understand it might not be what you’re used to. I don’t understand why it scares you. It’s just money. I happen to have more of it than you. Why is it a problem?”

  She picked at a nail. “It was just something my mum said.”

  “What?”

  She shook her head.

  Leaving it for a moment, he threaded through the town center, then turned left and headed down the hill to the road where she lived. Nowhere in Kerikeri was really rough, but the houses in this area were mainly rundown rentals, the cars old and battered, motorbikes rusting out the front, the lawns unkempt. A group of teenagers studied them moodily as they passed, beer bottles in a pile by their feet—not a great example for the younger kids playing with skateboards further down the street.

  Stopping outside her house, he unclipped his seatbelt, then turned off the engine. “Can I come in?”

  She stared at him. “Why?”

  “I’d like to meet Ryan.”