A Billionaire for Christmas

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A Billionaire for Christmas Page 61

by Phillips, Carly


  Inside the album, Anne and I glued photos to the paper, with Anne adding special stickers to fill in the spaces between.

  “That sounds fabulous. He’s going to love it.”

  “I know,” I say. And since I don’t want to bring the mood down again, I bite my tongue before I can add that I’m afraid we won’t have the chance to give it to him. Instead, I ask, “What did you decide on for Ryan?”

  “A sex swing,” she announces, far too loudly.

  “Jamie!” I look around, hoping no one standing nearby is listening to our conversation.

  “What? He’s going to love it.”

  “I don’t doubt it, but does everyone at the gala need to know?”

  She laughs. “You and Damien should get one.”

  “What makes you think we don’t already have one?” Actually, that’s a point. I wonder if we do. Our toy collection is wide and varied, and it wouldn’t surprise me.

  Jamie considers, then shrugs. “I’m just saying … the album is wonderful and he’ll love it. But trust me when I say he’ll love this in a completely different way.”

  I laugh and give her a hug. “There are so many reasons why you are my best friend.”

  “What can I say? I’m a well-rounded kind of girl. So you’ll get it?”

  “I’m putting it on my mental list for future presents,” I assure her as Ryan approaches. He slides his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek. And just like that, I’m back in the land of melancholy.

  “Have you heard anything?” I ask, because other than me, Ryan is who Damien would contact first.

  He shakes his head. “I’ve been trying to contact him, too. No luck.”

  I nod, my lips pressed together as I once again fight tears. Then I draw in a breath and pull myself together as Kelsey approaches, Anne and Lara beside her. She has a lithe dancer’s body and her dark hair is pulled up into a bun.

  “Is it time?” I ask, as Anne rushes to me. I scoop her up and she rests her chin on my shoulder, looking out at the world behind me.

  “Just about. Are you ready to introduce the show?”

  I nod. It’s not something I want to do today, but it’s one of my obligations. And though Jackson had offered to get up on that stage instead, I’d declined. The SCF is important to me, and I can step away from my worry long enough to tell the guests about the dance scholarships the SCF provides for kids that otherwise couldn’t afford to participate.

  “Is Daddy here?” Lara asks.

  I shake my head. “He had an emergency at work. He’s very, very sorry.”

  Her lower lip trembles. “But he promised.”

  “I know, baby, but—”

  “Daddy!” Anne squeals, and I pat her back, my attention still on Lara.

  “I wish Daddy was here, too,” I say. “But sometimes—”

  “Daddy! Daddy!” This time something in Anne’s voice tugs at my heart. I almost stay put, afraid to even hope, but I have to know.

  I turn slowly, and there he is. Damien. His jaw is scruffy with beard stubble. His jeans are rumpled. And from the look of it, he’s been wearing the same white button down for days.

  As far as I'm concerned, he’s never looked better.

  I stand there like an idiot, just staring at him. Just breathing in the fact that he’s here and he’s whole and he’s mine.

  “I didn’t want to take time to change,” he finally says, and the words seem to break the spell. I plop Anne on the ground and rush to him.

  “You’re here,” I say, then repeat it over and over as his arms tighten around me until I can barely breathe and I hope like hell he never lets go. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

  “Neither did I.”

  I pull back to search his face, soaking up the love I see reflected back at me and wondering about what’s happened to him. He releases me, and as I step back, I start to ask. But the words die on my lips. Because there, stepping up behind Damien, is my father, looking at least as rumpled as Damien.

  “Dad?” My heart twists, and tears flow down my cheeks.

  “Hello, sweetheart. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

  I look between him and Damien, my mind spinning. “How—?”

  But Damien just smiles. “Merry Christmas,” he says, holding tight to my hand. “We’ll tell you all about it later.” He reaches out with his free hand to Lara and Anne, both of whom race toward him.

  I step back so that he can squat down and gather our kids to him. He hugs them tight, then looks up at me, though I can barely see him through my tears.

  “The full story, I promise. But right now, I think it’s time to go watch the show.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Damien held Nikki close, never wanting to let her go again. He kept his arm around her waist as they stood in the third floor open area watching as his father-in-law told the story of their adventure to the small group of friends and family who’d come back to the house after the gala for a private holiday celebration.

  “So there we are at this gas station in the middle of nowhere with almost forty hours left on our drive. And Damien notices that there’s a plane behind the building. Now, I didn’t see it, but I guess that something in the dark caught his eye.”

  “Let me guess,” Jackson said, his eyes finding Damien. “My brother bought it.”

  “You know him too well, but you’re getting ahead of the story and stealing my thunder.” He aimed a mock scowl at Jackson, making the rest of the group laugh. “So I’m oblivious to the plane. And when I go inside to pay for the gas, Damien circles the building. And the next thing I know, he’s walking in and asking if it could fly. Hell, I didn’t even know what he was talking about.”

  Frank paused for more laughter, then continued. But Damien had stopped listening. He remembered the conversation only too well.

  “The Cessna back there,” he’d said in broken Spanish, his heart pounding in anticipation. Maybe—just maybe—he’d get home in time. “Does it run?”

  The woman nodded, looking at him suspiciously.

  “Can I rent it?”

  Her brow furrowed.

  “Can I buy it?”

  She frowned, so after a quick glance at Frank, who simply looked confused, he wrote a check and passed it to her, relieved that he’d had the foresight to bring a checkbook on the trip. “For the plane? Okay?”

  She lifted a cowbell and rang it, and a lanky kid of about seventeen had hurried in, looking suspiciously at him.

  “I’m trying to buy that plane,” Damien explained, relieved to find that the kid’s English was better than Damien’s Spanish.

  The kid inspected the check, his eyes going wide. “This really you? I know this name.”

  Damien nodded. “It’s me. I promise, the check is good.”

  He said something to his grandmother, nodded, then looked back at Damien.

  “It is my grandfather’s plane, but he died. It still run, she say.”

  “Then I’ll happily take it off your hands.”

  “She will do this thing,” the kid said, and Damien turned to face Frank, who’d looked as relieved as Damien felt. “But this is too much. Plane old. Much too much.”

  “It’s not,” Damien had insisted. “You have no idea how much I want to get home by Christmas. Trust me. It’s not too much.”

  “I—but—”

  “Please. You would be doing me an incredible favor. Especially if there are lights for that runway. I really need to get out of here tonight. This minute, actually. And with your grandfather gone, surely your mother can use the help.”

  “I don’t,” the kid began, but then shook his head, not turning around to look at his grandmother. “Okay, sure. The plane is yours.”

  “And that,” Frank concluded, “is how my son-in-law added an extra toy to his collection.”

  “And got us both home by Christmas Eve,” Damien added, pulling Nikki closer.

  “I love that story,” Nikki said. “I think that’s the
third time he’s told it, but it still gives me chills. Thank goodness for that boy and his grandmother.”

  She turned in his arms and cupped his jaw. “Nice and smooth. Although there was something ruggedly appealing about the scruff.”

  “And itchy,” he said. “But if you like it, we can always negotiate.”

  “I’ll take you anyway you want me to have you,” she said, then shook her head with a sigh. “I was so worried. And Damien, what if you hadn’t landed safely? The landing gear? My God.”

  She trembled in his arms, and once again he felt the weight of guilt. “I know, baby. Believe me, I know. I thought it would be quick. That we’d be back yesterday. And then there was no service, and—”

  He stopped talking when her finger brushed his lip.

  “So when you told me that there were people out there—people whose Christmas you wanted to fix—that was us. Me and the girls?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “Maybe I should have. But I didn’t want to disappoint you if I failed.”

  “Have you ever failed?”

  He laughed. “You know I have. But I love your confidence in me. And I’ll promise you this—I’ll never leave again without telling you exactly where I’m going and how I’ll be getting there.”

  “Right now, I’m just glad you're back. It’s Christmas Eve, our daughters are safe in their beds, you’re beside me, and my father is sharing Christmas with us. No matter what else, I think that this has turned out to be a perfect Christmas.”

  And to that Damien heartily agreed.

  Epilogue

  I wake to the feel of Damien’s mouth on my breast as his hand slides lower and lower, his fingers finding the heat between my legs, stroking and teasing my clit even as he sucks on my nipple. I moan, the glorious sensations pulling me from the peace of sleep into a wild maelstrom of passion.

  “Damien,” I murmur, spreading my legs and arching my back. I’m not sure how long he’s been teasing and touching, but I know that my body’s been awake a lot longer than my mind. I’m already wet, already desperate. He’s taken me right up to the edge, and I don’t even remember the journey.

  “Yes,” I whisper as his fingers thrust inside me, the angle making the heel of his hand rub my clit in a way that makes me writhe and squirm even more.

  His teeth graze my nipple as he lifts his head. He meets my eyes, and though he says nothing, I tremble from the heat I see reflected there.

  Slowly, he kisses his way down my body, his tongue lightly teasing my skin, tickling my navel. And then, oh God, his mouth finds my clit.

  His hands tighten at my waist, keeping me still, unable to squirm away from any of the sweet torment he is rendering.

  My body warms and sparkles ripple across my body. He is relentless, and the pressure inside me grows and grows as all of those sparks seem to come together before exploding outward again, making me see stars as Damien’s ministrations rip me into a million tiny bursts of light and joy.

  I’m still gasping, trying to come back to earth, when he slides up my body, his weight on me so damn comforting. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Stark,” he says with a self-satisfied grin.

  I sigh happily. “If that was my present, I like it very much.”

  He chuckles, but I see a shadow cross his face.

  I don’t get the chance to ask though, because of the rising voices outside our door. “Santa came!” Lara cries as the doorknob rattles. I yank the blanket over me, but the door doesn’t open.

  Damien winks at me. Apparently he realized that the excitement of Christmas would outweigh our privacy rule and had the forethought to lock the door.

  “Mommy! Daddy!” Lara’s voice is both excited and exasperated. “Come on! Come on!”

  “Be right there,” I call, then steal one more kiss before getting out of bed.

  In no time at all, I’m dressed in pajamas covered with tiny penguins in Santa hats and Damien is wearing a plain gray t-shirt and flannel bottoms with Christmas trees. We head out of the room and into the open area where we find Frank and the girls at the tree. Lara immediately races toward us, Anne at her heels, and thrusts out the present for Damien.

  “Me first?”

  “Yes, Daddy! Open, open!” Both girls jump up and down, not calming until Damien is on the couch and tugging at the wrapping paper. Soon he has the paper off and the box open. He pushes aside the tissue that covers the album, then sucks in a breath.

  Reverently, he pulls the album out of the box, then flips a few pages before looking at the girls. “Did you two make this?”

  They nod. “Mommy too,” Lara says.

  “Well, thank you both. And thank you, Mommy,” he adds, looking up at me. “I think this is the best present ever,” he adds, and I can tell from the tone of his voice that he means it.

  He flips a few more pages, but the girls are too impatient, and soon we’re diving headfirst into the ritual of passing out and unwrapping presents. Lots of presents, each one received with squeals of joy.

  Even Frank brought presents for the girls. Apparently he’d ordered them from his phone once he and Damien landed, and then he’d called the house to ask Gregory to make sure that the couriered deliveries were wrapped and ready.

  Once our exhausted girls are snuggled with their grandfather on the couch, Damien and I head into the kitchen for much-needed coffee. I’m wearing my new necklace, an emerald pendant Damien had designed to match the emerald anklet I wear almost every day.

  “I think the girls like their presents,” I whisper as we’re returning with a tray of coffee, pastries, and orange juice to share.

  A huge stone fireplace dominates the center of this room, a focal point at the top of the stairs. As we reach it, Damien pauses, then takes the tray from me and sets it on a nearby table.

  “What?” I whisper, and he nods toward the Christmas tree, gently pressing a finger to my lips. I look that direction and smile at the scene—Frank and the girls have moved from the couch. Now they’re sitting on the floor, building what looks like a city out of the Legos that Santa brought.

  On the coffee table nearby, the album we gave Damien sits. “I love it,” he says, nodding that direction. “I’ll cherish it forever.”

  “Good. That was what we hoped.”

  He brushes a finger over the emerald. “I’m sorry,” he says, and I frown, confused.

  “What are you talking about? I love it.”

  “I’m glad. But I’d planned to do more. The necklace is lovely, but I wanted to get you something personal and deeply memorable. I’d planned to spend the twenty-third figuring out what that would be, but then…” He trails off with a shrug. “At any rate, I’m sorry I didn’t get more for you for Christmas.”

  I’m not sure if I want to laugh or cry. “Oh, Damien.” I point to Frank and the girls. Then I very softly kiss his cheek. “Don’t you know you did that? Damien, you got me the world.”

  * * *

  Have you read the Stark Security books yet?

  Charismatic. Dangerous. Sexy as hell.

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  Contents

  Santa Baby

  Blair Babylon

  Christmas Shopping for a Billionaire

  Julia Kent

  Bossy Bride

  JA Huss

  Infatuation

  Willow Winters

  A Very Dare Christmas

  Carly Phillips

  Delight Me

  J. Kenner

  Sweet Liar

  Laurelin Paige

  Copyright © 2019 by Laurelin Paige

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval syst
ems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing: Erica Russikoff

  Proofing: Michele Ficht

  Cover: Laurelin Paige

  ISBN: 978-1-942835-49-3

  Also by Laurelin Paige

  Visit my website for a more detailed reading order.

  The Dirty Universe

  Dirty Filthy Rich Boys - READ FREE

  Dirty Duet: Dirty Filthy Rich Men | Dirty Filthy Rich Love

  Dirty Sexy Bastard - READ FREE

  Dirty Games Duet: Dirty Sexy Player | Dirty Sexy Games

  Dirty Sweet Duet: Sweet Liar | Sweet Fate

  Dirty Filthy Fix (a spinoff novella)

  Dirty Wild Trilogy: Coming 2020

  The Fixed Universe

  Fixed Series: Fixed on You | Found in You | Forever with You | Hudson | Fixed Forever

  Found Duet: Free Me | Find Me

  Chandler (a spinoff novel)

  Falling Under You (a spinoff novella)

  Dirty Filthy Fix (a spinoff novella)

  Slay Saga - Slay One: Rivalry

  First and Last

  First Touch | Last Kiss

  Spark - short, steamy sparks of romance

  One More Time

  Ryder Brothers Close

  Want by Kayti McGee | More by JD Hawkins

  Hollywood Heat

  Sex Symbol | Star Struck

  Written with Sierra Simone

  Porn Star | Hot Cop

  Written with Kayti McGee under the name Laurelin McGee

  Miss Match | Love Struck | MisTaken | Holiday for Hire

 

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