The Billionaire's Holiday Obsession

by Nadia Lee

“Imagine the liability,” Vanessa muttered, but Jane had a feeling it wasn’t directed at her.

  Iain had gone tense beside her. He pushed a glass of water her way, his knuckles trembling, most likely with an effort not to grip it too hard and break the delicate glassware.

  Salazar laughed. “Liability, schmiability. Jane won’t sue, will you, dear? And even if she did, that’s what my lawyers are for.”

  Finally Jane gulped down some water. “I’m not suing anybody!” she declared. “And I’m not going to die either.”

  “Great news,” Salazar said. “Nothing ruins a Thanksgiving like a corpse. Or a lawsuit.”

  “Were you ever worried? You have good lawyers and lots of money,” Ceinlys said, her tone blasé.

  Jane sputtered, while Iain cut his meat with more precision and control, like he was moving to some internal metronome.

  She stared at the turkey and ham on her plate. She really shouldn’t have made the pies.

  * * *

  Iain managed to choke down a few bites of Jane’s pie, then decided to leave. He also declined his mother’s offer to pack some leftovers for him. Thankfully Jane didn’t accept any either. Maybe she wanted to get the hell out of Dodge just as badly as he did.

  He couldn’t remember a family Thanksgiving dinner being this bad. Generally his parents behaved with more civility and even a bit of faux warmth toward each other, especially when they had guests. This time, his mother could barely be civil to his father, and his father made it clear he didn’t give a damn how she behaved. What had changed?

  In an odd way, he wished his father would live in some far and remote place so nobody in the family would ever hear about him. Then maybe his mother would be able to relax and share what was bothering her. But as it was, no matter how much Iain wanted his mother to reach out to him, she wouldn’t. And if he was being honest, he had no one to blame but himself for that.

  Jane didn’t talk during the elevator ride up to the penthouse. Iain’s head was pounding, a neck muscle ticking to the throbbing beat. He wanted to lash out and break something…anything, but then his penthouse barely contained anything. And after Brooke was through, it’d be even more minimalist.

  Calm, calm. Violence was not the answer.

  He unlocked the door, and they stepped inside together. “Well, thank you,” Jane said.

  “For what?”

  “The dinner.” She looked up at him, her eyes sympathetic.

  Did she pity him? Probably not. Hadn’t she said her family laughed at her dream of cooking in a professional kitchen? Nobody from his family laughed at him for anything he’d wanted to do, except possibly for Dane, but he was more or less a professional asshole.

  She pressed her lips together, then finally rose on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. It was so sweet, so soft and laughably innocent—even more so than the chaste kiss she’d given him two days ago. But his mind and body didn’t care. Both roared to life like starving beasts, and he wanted her. If it hadn’t been for his parents’ disastrous Thanksgiving, maybe he might have been able to push her away. But right now he was so desperate for something normal and sane, he couldn’t help himself.

  He turned his head and kissed her.

  She stiffened, her hands clenching his shoulders. He cupped her butt with one hand, fitted the other between her shoulder blades and used both to pull her closer. A soft moan welled up from the back of her throat, and she relaxed, her mouth softening under his like rich chocolate mousse.

  He pushed her against the wall, like he’d wanted to do that morning, and kissed her until he couldn’t breathe. His erection pressed against her soft belly, and he groaned. He had to pull back and give her a chance to end it now. If he went any further, he might just take her whether she wanted it or not.

  With an enormous effort he disengaged himself. “Tell me now if you don’t want to go all the way,” he said. “But if you say yes I won’t stop. I can’t.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jane stared at Iain through a fog of need. She could feel his cock against her, hard and thick and urgent, and she couldn’t believe he wanted her to stop.

  No, that wasn’t what he’d said. He wanted her to choose.

  Her instincts told her if she pulled back now, he’d never hold and kiss her like this again. She didn’t know if she was just infatuated with him because he was nothing like the men she’d known before, or if it was something more. She also didn’t know if he’d even want her beyond one night.

  But she’d be damned if she’d turn him away, not when he was looking at her with those eyes full of heat. She’d done this to him. Before she’d kissed him, his gaze had been a bleak combination of weariness, misery and fury.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Thank god,” he said, burying his face in the dip where her collarbones converged. His rough breaths fanned her delicate skin, and she shivered as electric need sizzled along her spine and pooled in her belly.

  He kissed and licked along the sensitive lines of her neck. One big, strong hand cupped her breast and thumbed the hard tip. She arched her back and cried out, her body completely ready and primed for him. He carried her to the half-circle table by the entrance and propped her here. “Grip the edge,” he ordered in a guttural voice.

  She watched him. He unzipped his slacks and sheathed himself with a condom. She had no idea where he’d had it, and didn’t care. She licked her lips, dying to have him inside her.

  “No more waiting,” he said roughly, as he pushed the hem of her dress up, revealing her damp underwear. He cursed. “You’re so hot.” He thumbed her clit. “So wet.”

  She whimpered. “Please.”

  “You don’t have to beg with me.” He pulled her underwear off and thrust into her in one smooth stroke. Her muscles clenched around him, delightfully shocked at the sudden invasion. He felt enormous inside her, pulsing with want. He gripped her hips and pulled out almost all the way, then pushed back inside her.

  She started to drop her head back, but he cupped the back of her skull. “Watch me fuck you,” he said. She looked down and saw his thick shaft moving in and out of her, and the sight sent illicit thrill all over her body. Her toes curled in her shoes.

  Then Iain crushed her mouth and increased his tempo. She hung on to the table, utterly open and needy. The base of her spine tingled along with her sensitive flesh, and she knew she was very close.

  Then she felt a finger under her, slick with her own juices. She gasped as he ran it over her rosette. Nobody had ever touched her there, and the sensation was too much. Her back bowed tightly as she came with a silent scream. Iain’s hands tightened, and he let out a groan deep inside his throat as he thrust into her one final time.

  They sank down to the floor. He was breathing hard, his hands resting on the small of her back.

  This will change things between us. A part of her thought maybe she should be worried. But for now she was content to press her face on his chest, listening to his galloping heart.

  * * *

  Iain stared at the ceiling. Jane’s breathing deepened, but he knew she wasn’t asleep yet.

  Shit. What the hell had he done?

  Now that he wasn’t tense anymore, his head felt clear. What an irony. Sex was never simple unless the woman involved was simple, and Jane was anything but.

  He should whisper sweet-nothings to her, make her feel like she was the most precious thing in the world. But he couldn’t decide if the impulse came from a desire to assuage his guilt, which would make any attempt pathetic and selfish.

  If there was one thing Iain believed in, it was being honest with himself, especially about his flaws. No matter what, he shouldn’t have had sex with her. He’d basically used her, and she deserved better than that. She needed to be with a guy who felt happy and calm around her, not all tense and off-kilter.

  Wordlessly, he carried her to her bed. Thankfully she didn’t say anything. He kissed her fingertips, unable to help himself, and she lay t
here unmoving like she knew what he was about to do. “You should get undressed,” he said. “Dior doesn’t make for comfortable pajamas.”

  “Okay,” she said, her voice oddly thin. “Good night.”

  * * *

  Iain didn’t say anything and walked out at her dismissal. Jane curled into a tight ball and squeezed her eyes shut.

  She should’ve expected him to deposit her back in her room. It wasn’t like he’d promised her anything. She still didn’t regret fucking him. She’d wanted that. But she hadn’t realized how much it would hurt if he acted like they hadn’t just had sex. The gentle kiss on her fingertips felt sort of sad and final, as though it marked some kind of closure.

  Sometime later, the door to the corridor closed. He’d gone out. She let one tear slip before she gritted her teeth and willed herself to sleep.

  * * *

  Iain cleaned up and left. He couldn’t stay at his place anymore. He felt like shit. Now that he thought about it, she might’ve been on the verge of tears, which would explain her strange tone of voice.

  The right thing to do would be to go in and see if he could do anything for her, but given that he was the one who’d made her feel that way, maybe it was better if he stayed away.

  Besides, what did he know about calming people down? Half the time he could barely control himself.

  Behind the wheel of his Maserati, he called Mark. “You at your place?”

  “Yeah. Just got back. With more leftovers than we know what to do with, if you want any.”

  “No thanks.” They’d just remind Iain of the dinner.

  “You okay? You don’t sound so good.”

  “Mind if I come over?”

  “Sure.”

  He reached Mark’s penthouse in no time at all. Unlike Iain, Mark liked to keep his place “homey”, as Brooke and Jane might have called it. That was to say—cluttered and messy. If it hadn’t been for the weekly housekeeping service, the place would’ve been a pig-sty.

  On the other hand, he was living with his fiancée now, so maybe he tried a little harder to keep things neater.

  “Where’s Hilary?” Iain said.

  “Resting in her room. She has a migraine.”

  “Ah. The post-Pryce family dinner headache.”

  “Yeah. I popped a couple aspirin myself.” Mark stretched out on the couch. “You look like hell. What happened? Did you guys fight?”

  “Fight?”

  “You and Jane.”

  “What? No. Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” He’d stopped fighting and arguing with people years ago. He opened his mouth, about to ask Mark if he could crash at his place for a while, then stopped. Jeez. Mark wasn’t single anymore. “I should’ve gone to a hotel.”

  “A hotel? Why?”

  “Need a place to crash.”

  “What’s wrong with your penthouse?”

  “I can’t go back.”

  Mark’s eyes narrowed. “Iain, what did you do?”

  Iain rubbed his face. “I kind of, ah, slept with her.”

  “Okay. And?”

  Iain glared at his younger brother. “I slept with her. Don’t you get it?”

  “No.” Mark frowned. “Did she do something?” he asked slowly, as though he were talking to a child. “Like want to ‘talk’?”

  “Shut up. And no. It’s not her. It’s me.”

  “I have no idea what the heck you’re trying to say. Look, you’ve been going on about how you never slept with her and had no intention of sleeping with her, blah blah blah. I never believed it.”

  “What? I totally meant all tha—”

  “Yeah yeah yeah, just step out of the car. She’s a pretty girl, you’re a healthy guy. Why wouldn’t you want to sleep with her? Especially when you guys are living together? That whole ‘I’m just helping her’ thing was amateur hour. You could’ve come up with something better.”

  “Oh, okay. You mean like your ‘I’m only asking Hilary out so I don’t have to go to my family’s picnic with the heiress Mom picked out’?”

  “Hey, now.” Mark pointed a finger. “That was slick.”

  Iain snorted. “In Markfantasyland maybe.”

  “Well, what are you going to do? Not go home because you slept with her? Seriously?”

  It was so tempting. “Maybe I should just stay in a hotel until she makes enough money to get her own place.”

  Mark’s face scrunched. “What the hell’s happened to you? You used to be smart.”

  If Iain were smart, he would’ve controlled himself better. He would’ve let Jane’s peck stay a peck.

  Mark continued, “If you do that, she’ll move out for sure. She doesn’t strike me as the type to leech.”

  Iain sighed. “Then what?”

  “What the hell, man? You’re acting like you don’t know how to handle a woman. Just…you know. Be yourself.”

  “That’s the problem—I can’t be myself with her.” If people knew how messed up he was, nobody would want to be around him. He knew what kind of a monster he could be. He didn’t want Jane to see that side of him, ever. And the sex…it complicated things because it narrowed the gap he wanted to keep between them.

  Mark came over and put a hand on Iain’s shoulder. “Hey, look,” he said in a lower voice. “You’re a great guy, and I’m not saying that because you’re my brother. You know I’d never describe Dane that way. Jane likes you, or she wouldn’t have slept with you. So don’t over-think this. Just do the things you usually do with women you’ve slept with.”

  “Like what?”

  “Do I have to figure everything out here? Take her out to dinner. Buy her something nice. Maybe indulge her here and there? The usual.”

  But that was the problem. Iain had never had a “usual” routine with his exes. Sex was fun and light, and they all just drifted away once it was finished. But Iain had a feeling Jane wasn’t going to drift away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jane stared at the dark ceiling. It was probably early morning now.

  Sleep had given her some clarity. It hurt that Iain had left the way he had, but on the other hand, it wasn’t like he’d fled in horror immediately after orgasm or anything. He’d carried her to her room, which was kind of nice in a certain way. If he’d been upset about the sex, he wouldn’t have done that, right? He could’ve just dumped her on the floor by the entryway and run to…well, wherever he’d run to.

  His family wasn’t like hers or the folks in Paris. Just look at that Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe leaving after sex was par for the course in his social circle. For all she knew, his parents had separate bedrooms and Salazar impregnated Ceinlys by courier.

  She should just go along for the ride. She’d wanted to sleep with him too. As disappointing as the post-coitus moments had been, she was now in his world, and maybe she should just go along with it.

  She padded out to the living room. Empty. She frowned. Iain usually practiced his martial arts at the crack of dawn. Had he come home the night before?

  She found her purse lying on the floor and picked it up, taking out her phone. There were two texts. Another four-letter screed from Gio, which she deleted, and a message from Vivian. Maybe she’d sent some photos. With a grin, Jane clicked on it.

  An ENORMOUS turkey from town hall!

  Jane giggled softly at the attached picture. It was the mayor dressed like a giant turkey. A stout man in his late fifties, he wore a ridiculous costume that showed nothing except his smiling florid face.

  He apparently lost a bet. Haha. He was a good sport about it, though.

  Then Jane frowned when she saw another text that had to have been sent in the middle of dinner.

  Holy shit! Did you know the guy you’re with is Iain Pryce? I can’t believe you said he was Ian Price, and I didn’t make the connection. He’s famous!

  Jane blinked. So that was how Iain’s name was spelled. And just how famous could he be? He couldn’t be an actor or a model because she probably would’ve heard about that.
And really, none of his family seemed like the type to go into acting despite their extraordinary good looks.

  She googled his name, and a bunch of photos and articles about him appeared. Well, not about him specifically but about his family. He had lots of cousins, who were also quite good looking. His parents were lovingly dubbed as The Eternal Couple, even though she had to wonder about that based on what she’d seen the previous evening. And Mark’s whirlwind romance with Hilary had made more than a few articles as well. An old profile on Iain said he was an accomplished MMA fighter who’d retired abruptly. Now he headed several charities and foundations that helped the poor in the States as well as overseas. Most of them had a sports angle of some sort and were aimed primarily at underprivileged kids.

  Jane couldn’t help but smile a little bit at that. So. Iain’s just a tough-shelled sweetie.

  Her smile dimmed as she scrolled down and saw photos of him with various gorgeous women on his arms. Jane even recognized a few of the models and actresses. Tall and leggy, they exuded a confidence and sophistication that she knew was beyond her. Their whole aura said they knew where they belonged.

  She shoved the phone back into the pricey purse Iain had bought her. Maybe he’d been horrified at the idea of slumming. What else could sleeping with her be when he was used to sleeping with women like Apple Sol, one of the most sought-after models in the world?

  Just then the door to his bedroom opened, and Iain emerged. He was in a blue tank top and shorts that showed off the lean perfection of his body. Dark stubble covered his jaw, and a sudden urge to run her palm over it gripped her. Good god, girl. He is way way out of your league.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Hey.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d be up so early. I was going to head out to grab something for breakfast.”

  “Oh. I thought I’d make something.”

  “It’s all right. You don’t have to bother.” The muscles in his jaw bunched. “You okay?”

  “Well, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” She started to the kitchen. She needed coffee if she was going to have this conversation.