by Amanda Rose
“Hey.” My voice comes out a lot huskier than I intend and I ogle him without meaning to, but he doesn't seem to mind in the least. He lets his eyes peruse the full length of my body, leisurely taking in every little detail. I shouldn't feel beautiful in my stupid sweater and leggings, but Whittaker seems to appreciate what he sees. And this makes me feel just a little less self-conscious.
He looks around conspiratorially, blinks his ebony eyes several times slowly, and then gives me a look filled with devious concupiscence. He walks toward me, a wolfish grin on his face. The voracity of that look causes me to back up several steps. He moves toward me like he's on the hunt, and I am the prey. A thrill runs through me.
I back up several more steps, but my back hits the hard surface of the mahogany shelves. Whit closes the distance in the blink of an eye, pinning me in with a hand on either side of my head. His eyes, dark as pitch, look downright ravenous as he licks his lips. He keeps one hand on the bookshelf above my head and unbuttons his slacks with the other, letting them fall to the floor. His look is dominant, demanding, hungry. Whit grabs my leggings; pushing them around my knees, he lifts me up by my exposed ass cheeks, pinning me between the bookshelf and the hardness of his muscular chest. Trapped by the fabric of my own pants, my knees get pinned up, exposing my swollen sex.
Whit positions himself, impaling me with his cock. My body stretches to accommodate his girth. He doesn't give me time though; carnal desire has taken over. With each hard and deep thrust, I moan louder. He covers my mouth with his own and shoves his tongue deep, stifling my cries of ecstasy. My sensitive body pulses around him, squeezing, encouraging him to fill me. He slams into me me over and over, pleasuring himself in the heat of my core. A powerful shudder racks his body and he spills himself inside of me. He holds me there, panting in my ear for several minutes before he releases me back to my feet.
The sated look of male satisfaction on his face is priceless.
“Did you come in here to ask me something or was that your intention all along?”
He lifts an eyebrow at me then raises his hand up, signing something to me very slowly. The guys—Hudson mostly, so he can trick me into saying dirty things—have been teaching me a little, primarily the alphabet.
He signs it again, a smile on his face. I pinch my brow and concentrate.
“D … A … D.” I say each letter as he makes the symbol. Fuck. “You came to get me because your dad is here and you want me to meet him?” I guess.
He nods his head yes like he thinks this whole situation is hilarious.
“And you still fucked me? When he's out there waiting, probably wondering what took us so long?” I say, exasperated. Whit's smile gets even bigger and he nods his head yes again.
Bishop Northington is a short, plump, happy man with a kind demeanor and a big hearty laugh. He honestly reminds me of Santa Claus. But there's also a sharp wit under all of his good cheer. When Whittaker comes into the room, Bishop gets up and gives him a loving hug. Whit towers over his father.
“It's nice to have everyone here for Christmas,” he says, looking at his sons, the epitome of a proud father.
“And who might this gorgeous young lady be?” he asks, giving me a kind hug. Bishop doesn't say anything, but his blue eyes flick to my ring. He smiles at me, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes the same way it did a few seconds ago. He hates me.
Last night, with the comforting warmth of Hudson and Jack surrounding me, my fantasy of confessing sounded like a really good idea. Today, meeting the Northington Patriarch … not so much. All five of them crave their father's approval above all else. Doubt tries to weave its way into my psyche, change my mind, but I won't let it. I take a deep breath and strengthen my resolve.
“Natalie Winters. It's nice to meet you, sir,” I say, offering him my hand, but he ignores it.
“Ah, none of this sir business with me. You can call me Bishop,” he says with a big hearty laugh, and a hug.
“Bishop, it is. And you can call me Natalie,” I say with a genuine smile. I can see why these boys strive to be the kind of man their father would be proud of. Heck, I just met him and I want him to like me. I used to daydream that someone would take my father away and Lucia and I would get sent to live with a family where the father was kind and friendly and warm like Bishop Northington.
“Well, Natalie, I suppose you're responsible for making this big drafty house so cozy.” All five of his sons watch our exchange with masks of boredom, but I can see the way their eyes follow our conversation.
“Yes, sir … er, Bishop.”
“Why don't you sit next to me and tell me a little about yourself and how you met Whit?”
Oh crap.
I hadn't even thought of that.
Bishop continues talking.
“I wonder if Anita is finished yet? I'm starving. I don't know if you know this, but she makes the best blueberry pancakes in the country,” he says with a chuckle. Thankful for the change of subject, I answer him.
“That's what I said. Colden thought I was exaggerating,” I say as I follow him to the dining room.
Bishop is truly as smart and cunning as I thought. He asks me all kinds of questions, but avoids the subject of engagement. I end up telling the truth about everything except when I met the five of them. And of course, the whole fake fiancée deal. At least he seems to genuinely like Christmas as much as I do.
After a few hours, I excuse myself to go get ready for the party.
CHAPTER SEVEN
My dress is a stunning, red, sleeveless Oscar de la Renta ballgown. I coif my hair into a fancy updo, taking extra care to make sure my simple but elegant makeup is absolutely flawless. The only jewelry I wear is the necklace Whittaker gave me and my engagement ring—nothing else seemed appropriate. I'm running way behind because unfortunately, it took me way longer to get ready than I thought it would.
I decide to find the Northington men and confess my feelings before I do anything else. If they don't want me, then I'll go. They can keep all the money and the gifts … everything. After meeting their father, I can't do it. He cares for them and vice versa, and I won't be responsible for putting a wall of lies between them.
I take a deep breath, open the door, and head out to do the bravest thing I've ever done. I ignore the little voice in the back of my head that tells me I'm not good enough.
Guests are already beginning to arrive and Anita is greeting them, showing to the ballroom. As I pass the study, I hear a voice I recognize. Gabriel? The door is closed and I scoot closer, so I can make out what is being said.
He's arguing with someone.
It's Bishop.
Their voices are muffled, so I press my ear to the door.
“She doesn't belong with the lot of you. She's different. I mean it—send her away … ”
My heart drops and my vision blurs. I knew it. I pull my ear from the door. I should have known. I could go in there and confess, but I won't because … even if they would have me, I can't be responsible for breaking up a family as loving as this. How could I be so stupid? I don't need hear anymore.
The answer is clear: I'm not good enough and I never will be.
I need to get out of here. Now. Panic is threatening to overtake me.
I run for the entrance, grabbing my coat and purse; I fight to hold back tears as I run.
“Natalie … what's wrong?” It's Anita, calling to me from across the foyer. I don't wait around for her to chase me. I take off down the front steps, running into the frigid Colorado air.
I run until I can't run anymore, until my chest is too tight and it hurts to breathe. I don't know if it's from breathing in the frozen air or the pain of a broken heart, but every breath is agony.
I'm wearing heels with my big red ballgown and they are little protection against the cold. The dress is soaked with melted snow, and is becoming heavier by the second.
I pull my phone out of my purse, but continue to trudge down the road as I call a cab
to come and pick me up and take me to the airport. The guy on the other end lets' me know it's going to be at least forty minutes for them to get to my location, so I'll have to keep moving or stand out here in the cold dark and wait. The tears want to come, but I fight them back, dialing Lucia.
“Come on,” I say when she doesn't immediately pick up. I dial her again, trying several more times, but she still doesn't pick up. My phone is almost dead, and I curse under my breath, sending her a text telling her it's an emergency and I need her to call me ASAP. It'll be okay, I try to tell myself. I can charge it while I'm at the airport.
As silly as it might seem to someone else, the connection I felt with those men after such a short period of time burned brighter than any relationship I'd ever hoped to have. There was a special connection between the six of us and … it's gone and it's never coming back.
I push those thoughts aside and try to focus on more pressing problems, like what the heck I'm going to do. Without Lucia to help me out, I don't have enough to cover even an economy plane ticket—and I definitely can't afford a hotel room.
The bus station is my only hope, and I might not even have enough to cover that ticket.
The cab picks me up, walking down the side of the snowy mountain road, and takes me to the bus station. The driver doesn't ask any questions, just takes my money and leaves.
When I get there, the lights are on but the doors are locked.
“Fuck,” I sob, banging on it for good measure. They closed early on account of Christmas Eve. The icy wind blows and I shiver. For the first time, it occurs to me, I could actually die out here, but I don't really have any choice but to stay here till they open.
I sit down under the eaves, hugging my knees close to my chest. My body is already trembling in a useless attempt at warming itself. That's when the tears finally come, alone in the dark winter night. I made such a mistake; I never should have taken their offer. From the start, I knew to stay away, but I was drawn to them with such vigor, a passion I never thought possible. I know though, deep down, that I don't deserve a happy ending. Father was right, that cruel little voice in the back of my mind says. People like me don't deserve anything.
The bitter cold of the frozen night is becoming unbearable now, sapping what little strength I have.
It's so chilly, my teeth chatter uncontrollably.
I don't know if it's the frosty temperatures or the emotional turmoil of knowing I lost my soul mates today, but that is the last thought I have before I fall into a broken state of restless sleep.
“She's here! Thank God.”
I'd recognize that voice anywhere—Hudson.
I try to open my eyes, but it feels like there are lead weights attached to my eyelids. I try to speak, but my mouth doesn't work properly. All that will come out is an incoherent babbling.
He scoops me up like I'm weightless. Hudson's skin is so hot, it is almost painful where he touches my cold body. He carries me somewhere warm, but I still can't open my eyes. Immediately, he starts stripping my clothes off. I try to say something to stop him, but it comes out all jumbled.
“We've got you, angel. Help is on its way,” I hear Jack say. Jack's here too? I think then, help? What help? I feel so confused and disoriented right now. And cold. Like the winter chill is now a part of my body and it will never subside.
Gradually, I start to feel more like myself, and when I open my eyes, I'm somewhere I don't recognize, a hotel lobby, I think, wearing nothing but a blanket. Whit is holding my right hand and Gabe is holding my left. Hudson, Colden, and Jack are there too, close by, looks of worry etched in their perfect features. I'm surrounded by dozens of people, EMTs and hotel staff mostly, but I only have eyes for the five gorgeous billionaires that I'm in love with.
Slowly, I start to feel like myself again as the cold recedes. After I don't know how long, the EMTs let me go, but I have strict orders to stay warm and drink lots of warm fluids. Still swaddled in blankets, Colden carries me to the a limo waiting just outside and holds me on his lap like I'm something to protect. The other four guys crowd as close to me and Colden as they can. As soon as the door closes, and the six of us are alone, I speak.
“You came for me,” I say, my voice hoarse from breathing in so much cold winter air.
“Precious, of course we did.” Jack speaks first. “Why wouldn't we?”
It's Gabriel who speaks next. “Why did you leave us?” In the silky smooth tones of his cultured voice, I can hear the hurt. Did I do that?
“I … I heard your father. And he's right. I'm not good enough to have even one of you, let alone all of you.”
Hudson laughs before replying. “You are only correct about one thing—Dad was right.”
Even if it's the truth, the words sting anyway. Somehow they hurt more wrapped in Colden's strong arms than if I were all alone. Maybe it's because I know this is the last time I will ever get to feel this safe and protected? “But you should have stuck around to listen to the entire conversation,” he says, giving me a pointed look.
“I don't understand,” I say to no one in particular.
Colden takes a deep breath then sighs. “You got it wrong. Our father doesn't think we are too good for you. He thinks you are too good for us.”
It takes me a minute to understand what they mean. I look at Whit, meeting his eyes.
“Is this true?” I ask. Whit signs something at Jack.
“He wants to know if you ever read the note,” Jack says. Note? What note? Whit signs something else to Jack. “The note that was with the necklace.”
I shake my head no. Whit gives me a sweet, sad smile and shakes his own head, like I've done something so silly.
“It's still in my jacket pocket,” I say, and Hudson digs around in the pile of discarded clothes until he finds it. Pulling it out, he reads it with a snort before handing it to me.
“You are such an asshole. Not only did you give her the necklace early, but you were writing her love notes before we were ready.”
I take the note I got the day of the perfect kiss in my shaking hands and glance down.
I'm falling for you.
-Whit
I look up with tears in my eyes. How could I have been so blinded by my own self-doubt? Scanning the limo with a new perspective, I meet each man's stunning eyes and what I see in each of them astounds me.
Love.
I see love.
They stare at me like they see me for me, not someone who can play the part of a fiancée, or a sexy plaything to fuck and leave behind, but someone to talk to. To protect. To keep warm on a frigid winter night. My heart flutters.
I wake up Christmas morning surrounded by five of the hottest men on earth—all of them my fiancés.
For real this time.
They warmed both my body and my heart last night, using their love and their own scalding flesh. I have never been happier than I am in this moment, naked save for the necklace Whit gave me and the engagement ring Gabe proposed to me with.
Jack gets up and slips on a robe.
“I'll be right back.”
I don't want him to go; the place where his hot flesh touched mine feels empty and cold without him. When he reappears, he's holding several presents and apparently, they're all for me.
“I can't accept these. I don't have anything to give the five of you in return,” I say.
“I already have everything I need, because the only thing my heart desires is you,” Jack says, handing me a small box.
I open it.
Inside are a pair of dainty diamond and white gold earrings. And I know they match the other two pieces. Jack slides the earrings out of the box, placing them in my ears with a gentle hand. Everywhere his skin touches my own tingles.
“Mine next,” Hudson says snatching one of the presents from Jack's hands and passing it to me. I open the box, and inside this one is a matching hairpin. It's absolutely gorgeous and probably costs more than my car. Hudson isn't as sweet as Jack; he slips the ha
irpin in my hair then grabs me, giving me a scorching, lustful kiss. I'm wrapped in Colden's arms throughout the entire exchange, pressed against his hard body; he doesn't let go.
“Give it to her,” Colden says, but he doesn't remove his arms from around my waist. Jack hands another gift to me, and I open it, the last piece to a set. A stunning bracelet rests on a bed of blue velvet. Colden squeezes me tighter, like he's afraid to let me go. With a sigh, Jack pulls the bracelet from its box, and sensually pulls my arm toward himself. He wraps it around my wrist, clasping it. Before he releases me, he leans forward and gives me a soft kiss on my cheek.
Gabe picks up the last present and hands it to me.
“Who is this from?” I ask as I pinch my brow in confusion.
“Our father,” Hudson says as I pull the lid off the box and inside, is a mountain of paperwork.
“What is it?” I say, wrinkling my brow.
Gabe glances at it for a second.
“Our fucking punishment,” he snarls, rolling his eyes.
“I still don't understand,” I whisper.
“You are now the majority owner of NHI,” Jack says. “Dad thought you were honest and sweet and kind, and we're all just scoundrels taking advantage. Last night, the only way he would give his blessing is if we were so certain that we would gift our shared inheritance to you.”
“Wait, what?”
“Which means if Gabriel wants to work for NHI, he has to listen to you,” Hudson teases Gabe. I feel like I must be dreaming.
“This Christmas is almost perfect,” I say, snuggling just a tad closer to Colden. I think I'm still a little bit in shock at the situation. I almost died last night and now … I'm a billionaire? I just can't wrap my mind around it. All I want to do right now is cuddle up with these beautiful men.