Now her entire body prickled with awareness. That gaze of his might as well have broken skin.
“Impress me?” His attention made her bold now. That undercurrent of attraction wasn’t just on her end; this morning confirmed it. “Why would you have to impress me? I’m just your little ol’ holiday roommate.”
He scoffed, taking another step closer. Beads of sweat rolled down his chest, and the very sight of him was like something from a fever dream. “Trust me. There’s plenty I need to impress here.”
Now her cheeks were flaming. They had to be. Her pussy clenched from wanting him nearer, wanting him on her. Like she’d imagined in the shower yesterday morning…and the morning before that, if she was being honest.
“I don’t know about that,” she said, her voice coming out shaky. “If there’s anyone who needs to do some impressing, it’s me. You look like a Gucci ad, okay? I’m just a Target ad. A clearance Target ad.”
A laugh rocketed out of him, and he closed the distance between them. “If you’re a clearance Target ad, then you’re the deal of the century.”
She laughed, but the knot rising in her throat knocked the sound sideways. He caressed the side of her arm with his fingertips. But not in a friendly way. Not in a hey-we’re-just-making-jokes-in-the-weight-room way. No, his touch told her that he wanted things to go farther.
Jules got lost in his gaze. His caress was a command, and hell if she’d disobey it.
She pushed onto her tiptoes, urged forward by lust and the early hour and his near nakedness, and then their lips were touching. His mouth covered hers hungrily, eagerly, as if he’d been thinking about this kiss for days, too. They kissed again and again. His big hands cupped the sides of her face, and then a little whimper escaped her, unbidden, uncontrollable.
The scent of him, the feel of him against her, it was almost too much. She’d never been kissed like this, and part of her screamed that it was just the trappings of luxury that had her floating in space.
But no. This man’s lips, which he parted so that his tongue could slip through—they were velvet and heat and confidence. When the kiss broke and he pulled back, his eyes were clouded with lust. She recognized that look, because it was the same thing that swirled through her—drugged by what just happened.
“Holy…” she managed.
He wet his bottom lip, his gaze stuck on her mouth. “Mm-hmm.”
“I’ve never been kissed like that,” she whispered, then regretted admitting it. “At seven a.m.,” she hurried to add.
“Me neither,” he said. “And I should add, you kissed me.”
She laughed but stopped short once she caught the tones of a wail. It had to be Noelle. Probably screaming her lungs out, if she could hear it this far away from the bedroom.
“Oh no! Noelle! Hang on.” Jules rushed out of the weight room, heart in her throat as she hurried to check on the baby. Back in the bedroom, Noelle was wriggling and fussing, so Jules scooped her up into her arms. Mitch entered a moment later, looking concerned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Just crying. Not sure.” She lifted her up and patted her back, in case it was gas. Almost immediately, the cutest little burp erupted from her.
“That was it,” Mitch said, reaching out to stroke Noelle’s cheek. “Now she’s a happy baby again.”
He held out his hands, and Jules passed Noelle off, grinning as he rocked her and cooed at her like any loving daddy would. As always, her chest went tight as she watched him. He would make a great dad someday, if he ever had kids.
Hell, the two of them would be great parents together. They’d already proven their teamwork and excellent cohabitation skills. It was only three days in, but it seemed promising. Maybe this was a sign—she and Mitch were a good fit.
Except she needed to stop thinking these crazy thoughts. Intense, early-morning kisses and three days of sharing a penthouse didn’t mean anything. They were just riding out the holidays and sharing the responsibility of caring for Noelle.
That was it.
Why was that so hard to remember?
10
Later that day, Mitch and Jules were in his office working on the party plans. Noelle was spending the afternoon in the hotel daycare, which allowed them a few precious uninterrupted hours to knock out the bulk of the planning work.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the kisses they’d shared in his weight room that morning, which made concentration difficult. Every time he glanced up at Jules, all he could see were those perfect pink lips. The way they’d smashed against his like she was starving for him.
His cock had been at half-mast ever since, and it didn’t seem like he’d be calming down anytime soon. Not with her so near, yet still so far away.
He cleared his throat, trying to snap himself out of the Jules fog. He tapped his foot, brushing something, then caught Jules’s shy gaze flit his way.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I thought you were playing footsie.”
He grinned, then brushed his foot against hers again. A blush stained her cheek. Man, this made his work day a lot more fun. Why hadn’t he thought of this before?
Not like finding an abandoned baby and asking a stranger to move in with him had ever been on his to-do list before.
“Careful there,” she warned.
“Or what? You’ll kiss me again?” His grin widened, and he sought out her foot, brushing it intentionally along her heel.
“Exactly,” she warned, her pretty lips puckering. Then someone knocked on the door.
“Mitch?” Rose asked, poking her head in. “Oh, good. No new babies this time.”
Mitch laughed, waving her in. “That’s the last unexpected baby you’ll find in here, I promise. What’s up?”
“You know I’m here to tell you about another problem.” His heart sank when she said that. Rose knew him and his approach to work better than anyone, and over the years she’d come to be his right-hand woman. So when she said they had a problem, usually it was serious. “The toy shipment for the Children of the World exhibit for the gala just arrived, but a lot of it is…how do I say it? Unfinished.”
Mitch furrowed his brow. “Sorry?”
“The wooden toys are just…blank. It’s the damnedest thing.” She shook her head and sighed.
“Let’s go check this out, shall we?” He stood, looking pointedly at Jules before heading out of the office. The most recent shipment had been set aside in the delivery bay at the back of the hotel. The box had already been opened, most likely when Rose checked it out, and sure enough—nearly half the toys were completely bereft of a design. Just naked wood objects.
“What the hell?” Jules asked, picking up a very large red top in one hand and an unfinished top in another. “And nobody noticed this?”
Mitch chewed on the inside of his lip as he thought about what to do. The party was in two weeks. Sending this back only to get another shipment was out of the question. The company they’d chosen for this task required a three week turn-around on all orders, and he suspected a replacement order would be the same.
“I’m definitely asking for a refund,” Mitch said. “But returning this is out of the question for this particular company. So the question is: how to rectify.”
Jules picked up a few other toys—a horse, a house, and a cow—and said, “Why don’t we just paint them ourselves?”
Mitch was quiet as he considered the idea. She picked up another finished toy. “Most of the painting is really basic. Two, three, maybe four colors max.” She shrugged, looking up at him. “I think we could knock these out ourselves. Or, worst case scenario—set up a toy painting station for the older kids to occupy themselves. One of the staff could oversee it, just to make sure nobody goes around painting walls or dresses. What do you think?”
In an instant, all his tension dissipated. She was right—and more than that, he was excited about her ideas. “That’s great, Jules. Let’s see how many unfinished toys th
ere are first, then we can decide which direction to go.” They unpacked the box, laying out all the toys according to their level of completion. They counted one hundred fifty unfinished toys.
“How many kids are we expecting for the gala?” Jules asked.
“Probably fifty or so. Not many. And usually never little ones like Noelle. I’d say, ages five and above.”
“Perfect. So let’s paint about fifty of these ourselves and leave the rest as a fun station for the kids.” She assessed the laid-out toys, nodding, like she internally confirming the decision.
“So that would be a hundred unfinished toys we’re leaving,” he said.
“Right. Which means that some kids can paint two or three. You never know which kid is gonna want to paint one of each shape. It’s a thing, I promise.”
Mitch looked over at her, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms. Not here in the loading bay, where everyone would see them. Back in his office…maybe. But up in the penthouse? Definitely.
He was so relieved he could have skipped back to the office as they had a dock worker haul the toys on a cart behind them. Not because the toy problem was resolved. No, the wooden toys were honestly the least of his worries.
It was the fact that he had a problem solver at his side. It felt good to have someone around him, willing to get creative and find a path forward. He was used to operating solo, with just Rose beyond his office door and his father dropping in with demands or requests.
Having Jules at his side felt like having a partner in the messy business of running an empire. The toys were inconsequential. It was her attitude that really got him.
Mitch called for supplies and sent out a call for other staff members to help with the painting. He divvied them up into piles of twenty, and instructed managers to hand out the tasks to their willing employees. When the paints and tarp arrived at his office, they got to work painting their lot of toys. The first ones were a little shaky—unsure lines, uneven eyes on the horse, a very weird grimace on the nutcracker—but by the time they hit their rhythm, the toys were coming out just as professional as the originals.
Better, even. Because they were made by them, right here in his office, amid laughter and jokes and plenty of references to those steamy kisses that morning in the weight room.
Once they were finished and it was almost quitting time for the day, Mitch noticed Jules had a streak of paint on her face. He reached over to wipe it off, but only spread more blue paint over the bridge of her nose as a result.
He laughed. “Oops. Messed that up.”
She feigned insult and twisted around to look in the mirror near his desk. He could see himself in the reflection, and he crept closer to her over the tarp they’d laid out on the wood floor.
She gasped when he came up behind her, their gazes locking in the mirror.
“What is it about us and reflections?” she asked. When she turned to him, he didn’t waste time. He surged forward on his hands and knees, capturing her lips in a kiss. She made that whimper noise again, the one that told him she wanted it just as much as he did.
They kissed eagerly, sloppily even, until Mitch pulled back. This needed to progress to the next level.
“What—”
He pulled her to standing, covering her mouth with his once more as he guided her backwards toward his desk. He tried to push some papers out of the way but couldn’t spare the attention. He hoisted her onto the desk. Something fell over, but he didn’t care. She laughed through a kiss, though it faded when he pushed his hands over her knees and up the sides of her thighs. His fingertips slipped over the sheer fabric of her pantyhose. She’d worn a sharp black wraparound dress and equally sharp heels. All of which he was eager to tear off her.
Immediately.
He paused, breaking the kiss to search out a response in her gaze. His cock pulsed hard and seeking, trapped beneath the belt of his pants.
Her chest heaved, her lips kiss bitten. “Why did you stop?”
That was all the answer he needed. He grunted, jerking her by the hips, her legs splaying open. Jules hooked her ankles behind his neck, which was the final push.
They were doing this. Right here. Right now.
Mitch didn’t break the kiss as he jerked his shoulders out of his suit coat. It crumpled to the ground a moment later, and Mitch ran his hands over the dip in her waist, seeking the flimsy ties of her dress.
“Oh, Mitch,” she breathed at his ear. He tugged at the knot once, then again. It came undone, and the front of her dress spilled open, revealing the gorgeous landscape beneath. He finally pulled himself away from her lips, but the view was worth it. He pushed the ends of her dress further open. Creamy curves greeted him in matching black panties and bra. Lush thighs. Breasts that nearly spilled out of the cups of her bra. He cupped one in his hand, meeting her gaze.
“Should we…you know…here?” She swallowed, gaze darting all over his face. “In your office?”
A knock interrupted them, and she jolted, grabbing for the ties of her dress. Mitch swore under his breath, raking a hand through his hair before scooping up his coat. He had just slipped it on, Jules standing nearby smoothing down the front of her dress, when Rose poked her head in.
“Still no babies,” Mitch joked. He could hear the strain in his voice. The strain of being interrupted while Jules’s legs were wrapped around him. “Feel free to come in.”
“Another delivery needs your signature,” Rose said, pointing at him. “And the front desk needs you to come look at their toy painting contributions, because apparently someone got a little slap-happy with the emerald green.”
Mitch clenched his jaw. He glanced at Jules, finding the same contained heat in her gaze. A wave of understanding shivered between them.
They’d finish this later.
11
As soon as Jules arrived at Mitch’s penthouse that evening with Noelle in her arms, the buzz of the service elevator rang through the apartment.
Mitch poked his head into the foyer, where she was just setting down the diaper bag.
“Don’t move,” he said, holding up a finger as he breezed toward the kitchen. Jules froze, not like he’d be seriously watching her to see if she moved a muscle. A moment later footsteps scuffed through the penthouse, and a feminine voice trailed behind Mitch’s booming greeting.
“Here she is,” Mitch said, gesturing toward her and the baby. A smiling employee stepped into the foyer after him—the same ruddy blonde who had watched Noelle yesterday with the hotel’s babysitting services.
“Oh.” Jules offered a smile. “I just came from the babysitting services.”
“Angie’s going to stay up here while we go out,” Mitch said, waving her forward. When she stepped close enough, he pressed a kiss to Noelle’s forehead. Jules found Mitch’s gaze, and the heat there made her breath evaporate. For a moment, it felt like he was going to kiss her too. Or maybe she was just hungry for another one of his kisses.
“Where are we going?” she forced out past the confusion.
“Out.” Mitch’s smile turned mischievous. “I’ll take the baby, and you go get ready.”
“But what—”
“There’s a package waiting for you on the bed,” he said, easing Noelle into the crook of his elbow. He sent her a wink, and Jules drifted forward, feeling like she was floating on air.
The nanny was here. Her pretend husband and baby daddy had the baby safely in his arms. And now they had a mysterious night “out” together.
She felt like a pauper turned princess in one of those corny Christmas movies. Like Mitch had swept her away in his chariot and now they were about to meet the Queen of England or something. She hummed to herself as she indulged in the fantasy, just for a little bit. Even though the rational side of her was barking loud and clear—don’t get used to this. The rich men never last. You’re just a plaything to him.
A large white box sat on her neatly made bed. Excitement prickled through her arms, and she ran a finge
r over the corner. A stamp in the middle read Elle’Gance in a swirly font. She pulled off the top, finding a neat nest of tissue paper inside.
Her heart started racing, but she didn’t know why. She’d never gotten a gift like this before. The excitement was almost too much to bear. What could it possibly be? And how could he possibly know anything about what she liked?
She pushed her hands inside the tissue paper, fingertips meeting something satiny below. She tugged the fabric out of the box, gasping as an elegant evening gown presented itself. Mossy green and delicate, and probably the most expensive thing she’d ever touched.
A simple tag was pinned to the strap of the dress, emblazoned with the store’s name and nothing else. Of course there was no price tag, though she was dying to know what something like this cost. She turned it over in her hands a few times, admiring the scooping neckline, the slight ruching below the waist. Mitch knocked softly on the door.
“What do you think?”
“I think I’m not worthy.” She laughed, holding it up again.
“More than worthy. Trust me—I know these things.” He cocked a grin. “Put it on and let’s go. I want to take us out to dinner. To celebrate our hard work and all that success from today.”
She nodded, her throat clamping shut for some reason. Mitch excused himself, and she slipped out of her work clothes. The dress settled with a soft shush over her shoulders. Somehow, he’d known her size. Maybe from sight alone. Or maybe one of his minions had come to spy on her clothes here in the guest bedroom?
The possibilities were endless with Mitch. With this type of luxurious lifestyle. Who knew what his motives were? What sort of excess he truly had at his disposal?
Still, the thoughts didn’t settle as strangely as she’d been bred to expect. Even with her mother’s bad experiences whispering in her ear, it was hard to say no to this. What was the harm in a little jaunt? Just dipping her toe in the satiny comfort of a night out on the town?
Christmas with the Denton Billionaires: The Complete Series Page 15