Accidental Santa

by Celia Aaron

  “Silvia is chef de cuisine at one of the oldest and best Italian places in the city.” He snuggles behind me in the elevator as we rise and rise.

  “You’re in the penthouse. I just know it.”

  “Of course. What sort of rich-guy CEO would I be without a penthouse lair?”

  “I’m glad you play to type when it benefits me.” I press my hips back, rubbing my behind against him.

  He growls in my ear and kisses my neck, his hands clutching me tight.

  The elevator opens too soon, and we step out to a set of French doors. He swipes an access card and they open. The smell of food hits me, and my stomach growls loudly as I walk into his chic penthouse. Tasteful furniture, huge windows, disgustingly gorgeous views, and a warm fire in front of a plush leather sofa.

  “You live here?” I walk in and wonder at the invisible money that seems to drip from everything.

  “Most of the year.” He pulls my hair away from the nape of my neck and kisses me there, sending goosebumps racing along my back and arms. Yep, this is it. I’m glad I wore my nicest panties, because I intend to see them on his bedroom floor very soon.

  “Buongiorno!” a woman calls from the open kitchen to the right. Marble and stainless steel can’t contain the big personality of the chef, and she waves us over to her.

  “To be continued,” Crane whispers and grabs my ass.

  I giggle and hurry to the kitchen.

  Sex can wait.

  Burrata cannot.

  Chapter 11

  Crane

  She downs the last bite of tiramisu, then leans back in her chair. “If I eat one more thing, I think I’ll die. Like, literal death. Ugh.” She pats her stomach. “Cover my grave in tinsel and tiramisu.”

  “Was everything delicious?” Chef Marantoni asks, her accent just as authentic as her dishes.

  “You are a golden god. This is a fact.”

  “Oh, grazie, bella.” She smiles.

  “Leave the cleanup. My maid will be in first thing.” I stand and show the chef to the door as Lindsay heads into the living room and sits on the couch.

  “Thank you, Silvia.”

  “It was my pleasure.” She leaves, her crisp white chef’s uniform just as clean as it was when she arrived.

  I close the door. “You sure you don’t want a second dessert, my sweet peach?”

  She groans. “Did you hear the part about me getting dead?”

  I laugh. She’s the only one I’ve ever met who can pull amusement from me so easily. Henry’s jokes fall flat, but I like to think that’s a personal failing on his part, not a failure to connect on mine.

  Sinking down beside her, I drape my arm around her shoulders. We stare at the crackling fire for a while, just being together. Why is this so hard with everyone else? I can’t sit in a room with anyone without feeling the itch to bolt or speak or, I don’t know, say something rude. But with her, I can just … exist. It’s such a peaceful feeling that I suspect I don’t deserve it, which makes me enjoy it all the more.

  “Was this part of your plan?” she rests her head on my chest.

  “Stuffing you full of delicious food and cuddling with you in front of the fire?”

  “Yep.” Her country accent comes through stronger now.

  “Of course it was.” I nuzzle in her hair. “Is my dastardly plot coming together?”

  “Definitely. I mean, if you intended to fill me full of tastiness and listen to me snore, you get an A-plus on your romance project.”

  “I intended to blind you with gourmet food, then take advantage of you after you’d had too much wine, but I suppose I’ll have to take the A-pluses wherever I can get them.”

  She grins. “Have your way with me, Mr. Marley. But watch out for the food baby.”

  “I’ll be gentle with it.” I tenderly turn her chin so she faces me. “And you. I’ll be gentle with you, Lindsay.”

  Her eyes round, genuine surprise in them, and then she peers at me, as if trying to measure the weight of my words. “You say such kind things, and you get me a safe space heater, and you don’t hold me being a poor against me, and you’re so … so wonderful.”

  Now that’s something I’ve never been called before.

  “But—” She bites her lip.

  “But?” I wrinkle my nose. “I liked all the other things you said about me, so I should’ve known there was a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”

  She turns her body so she’s facing me, her legs draped across my thighs. “But you are so mean to your employees. Why?”

  “I’m not mean. I just have certain standards.”

  “You fired Becca for chewing gum.”

  I can’t seem to stop staring at her lips, and now that she’s draped across me, my hand wanders up her leg. “Chewing gum is a disciplinary infraction.”

  “A firing infraction?” Her breath hitches as my fingers graze past her knees and move higher.

  “Yes.” I lean closer to her and rest my other hand at the nape of her neck.

  “And the way you talk to people—” She gasps as I lean down and kiss her throat, sucking her skin between my teeth.

  “Hmm?” I ask against her skin. “How do I talk to people, peach?”

  “Like you—” She grips my arm but doesn’t pull it back when I run my fingertips along her panties. “Like you hate people.”

  “When have I ever done that?” I stop kissing her, but leave my fingers right where they are.

  She shrugs. “Do you hate your job?”

  “I don’t know.” I answer honestly, a change of pace for me. “It’s something that was pushed on me when my father died.”

  “What was your dad like?”

  I blow out a big puff of air. “I’m too happy to enter this conversation right now.”

  “That bad, huh?” She pulls my hand from between her legs and laces her fingers with mine. “Share.”

  I want to go back to kissing and having my way with her, but I can see she’s not going to let this go. “It’s not like he beat me or anything. He just wasn’t there. The store was his reason for living.”

  “That’s why you don’t like it.” She runs her thumb along the side of my hand, her touch so soft. “Makes sense.”

  “Tell me about you and your little hometown. What did you say its name was? Baloo?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Balulah. It’s exactly what you think of when you conjure up a small southern town in your mind. But it’s in the mountainous part of northern Georgia, so it’s more umm, what’s that movie with the guys and the squealing like a pig?”

  “Deliverance?”

  “Yep. That one.”

  I laugh, and it feels so good just to be here with her talking about dark movies in front of a warm fire. “Good to know.”

  “I mean, we don’t assault white-water rafters—” She turns to give me a sideways glance. “As far as I know, anyway.”

  “Sure.” I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger. “But I can’t wait to hear your rendition of ‘Dueling Banjos’.”

  She squeaks a laugh. “Daddy’s version would blow your mind.”

  I get the sense that Lindsay has lived a life that I can’t even begin to understand. So different from chauffeurs and distant parents and city lights. If it were anyone else, I’m certain I’d look down my nose at them, but with Lindsay, it’s like a beautiful slice of existence that’s as foreign to me as it is interesting. “What do your parents do?”

  “Mama works at the doctor’s office in town. Been there since before I was born. Receptionist, bookkeeper, doctor wrangler—you name it. Daddy used to haul lumber to the mills, but he’s retired now. I have a younger brother, but he’s still in high school. Gable plays football and tears up the mountainsides on the weekends with his friends. Country stuff like that. Way too lowbrow for a fellow like yourself.” Her smirk isn’t barbed, but it is utterly sexy.

  “Sounds … interesting.”

  She smiles, mischief all over her. “You want to go mudding?�
��

  “Is that an invitation?” I’m not sure what ‘mudding’ is, but if it’s an activity I can do with Lindsay, sign me up.

  “Definitely. You come to Balulah, and I’ll take you mudding.” She shakes our interlaced hands.

  “It’s a deal.” With a quick movement, I push her backwards onto the couch and cover her body with mine. “And while we’re having this little give and take, I think I want to take a great deal more.”

  Her mouth meets mine, and I kiss her with every bit of desire she’s created in me. I crave her, and I don’t know why. I can’t explain it, and I don’t care to try. I just know that I need her like I need a heartbeat, and I can’t tell if that feeling is ever going to stop. Maybe I don’t want it to.

  She twines her arms around my neck as I settle between her thighs. She’s warm and soft, her mouth a treat and her body a gift. I delve my tongue inside, tasting and caressing, everything inside me drawn to her. She lifts her hips, and I move closer, my cock resting against the heat between her legs. I need to be there, to be inside her, making her moan, making her feel the same longing that I have for her.

  Breaking away, I stand.

  “Don’t sto—”

  With a pull, I get her to her feet, then sweep her into my arms and carry her to the bedroom.

  “Romantic,” she says and kisses the side of my neck.

  “Wait till you see what my tongue intends to do to you. That’s real romance.”

  She laughs. That’s something new, too. No one laughs for me. Not really. They laugh in fear or to assuage me. Lindsay genuinely laughs, and I find I want to keep giving her something to smile or laugh or giggle about. But right now? Right now, I want to give her something to scream about.

  Chapter 12

  Lindsay

  Food baby forgotten, I scrabble at Crane’s buttons, undoing them with sloppy fervor as he sits me on his whopper of a bed.

  “I am your one-night elf,” I mutter as I pull his shirt apart and marvel at the taut muscles and smooth skin beneath.

  “You’re my what?” He laughs as I grab his belt, unbuckle it, then unzip his pants.

  He grips the hem of my blouse and pulls. I raise my arms so I don’t get caught. My cheeks heat. They shouldn’t. I mean, Crane made a meal out of me a week ago. But this is the first time he’s going to see me—all of me, cellulite and all—and I can’t help my worry. He’s so gorgeous, and I’m just … me.

  “What is that look?” He kneels in front of me and catches my gaze. “What happened to my peach?”

  I take a deep breath. “I just, um. It’s just that you’re so—” I wave my hand. “Perfect. And I’m, well, not.”

  “I’m perfect?” He smiles and wraps his arms around me, his fingers making quick work of my bra. “I’d like to get that in writing, if you don’t mind. Something I can show Henry and the rest of my family when they go over my many faults.” Pulling my bra away, he tosses it aside and presses kisses down the valley of my breasts. “And you are stunning.” He pulls me to stand in front of him and unzips my skirt, then slides it down my legs.

  I’m exposed. Even more so when he slides my panties off and tosses them, too.

  Looking up at me, he takes in every dimple and curve. “When I tell you you’re stunning, I mean every word.” He kisses my stomach, up my chest and stands. “Do you believe me?”

  It’s hard. So hard. But when he looks at me like this, it’s as if it’s his heart that’s on offer. Not mine. As if he’s the one holding himself up to scrutiny. And he needs to know that he’s good and wonderful and just as stunning.

  So I let out a breath and nod. “Yes.”

  His smile is so tender, so genuine, and the following kiss turns the heat up to scorching. We stand there, touching and kissing, our mouths hungry and our hands everywhere.

  I slide his pants and boxer briefs to the floor and run my hand along his shaft. “You came loaded for bear.”

  “What?” He looks down at me as I hit my knees in front of him, my back against the side of the bed.

  “It’s one of those country-isms you seem to like so much.” I grip his thick cock and tongue his head.

  He groans, and his hands tangle in my hair.

  “When you go hunting—” I lick. “And you’re hunting for something small—” lick “You’d use a .22, small caliber—” lick “hunting for a deer, you’d move up to something larger—” lick “could use a shotgun with a normal buckshot load—” lick “but if you’re hunting for something huge—” long, long lick “then you choose shotgun shells that are loaded with buckshot, heavier—” I grip his base “big enough to drop a bear—” I take him into my mouth and criss-cross my tongue along the bottom of his shaft.

  “Illuminating,” he grits out.

  I bring his thick head back to my lips and kiss it. “Definitely loaded for bear.” When I take him to my throat again, his hips jerk, and the low masculine grunt he makes sends a sizzle along my skin. I suck and lick, bobbing my head, learning him, my hand squeezing his base as I use the other to steady myself by gripping his thigh.

  I move faster, my mouth making loud, wet noises that only heighten my desire, and Crane thrusts his hips, as if he can’t help himself. I run my teeth lightly along the ridge of his head, and he pulls back.

  “Did I hurt—”

  He pulls me up and throws me onto the bed, then climbs on top of me. “Were you trying to make me come in your mouth?” He bites my neck. “Jesus, you almost had me.”

  I grin and bite my lip. “I knew well-timed teeth would be your undoing.”

  “You’re my undoing.” He captures one of my nipples and sucks as he slides his hand lower.

  When he touches my wetness, he groans, and when he presses a finger inside me, I arch. Need explodes in my veins as he pulls his slick finger out and strokes my clit. He switches to my other nipple and uses his teeth. I dig my nails into his shoulders and rock my hips against his hand.

  Pulling away, he stands and looks down at me, then opens his nightstand. “Spread wide.”

  My brattiness kicks in, and I close my legs as he rolls on a condom.

  One side of his mouth quirks up. “Is this how you want to do this?”

  “Do what?” I shrug innocently.

  “Spread your legs, Lindsay.” His voice is gravelly sex. “Show me that sweet, juicy peach.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “Then I’ll make you spread them, and I’ll enjoy doing it.”

  Heaven help me, I’m in trouble, because I have never been as turned on as I am right now.

  He reaches for my knees.

  I try to scoot away from him, but he pounces, pinning me to the bed and opening my thighs, his hips settling between them and his cock resting on my hot, needy skin.

  “You can’t escape me.” He kisses me, then bites my lower lip. “The moment I saw you in that hallway, you had me. I’ve been chasing you ever since.”

  “I think you like the chase.” I run my hands up his muscled back.

  “As long as I capture you in the end.” He aligns himself at my entrance and eases inside.

  I spread wider, giving him every bit of access he needs, and when he slides all the way, I curl my toes at the delicious sensation of being filled.

  “Fuck.” He bites my shoulder lightly, his muscles shaking. “You feel so good.”

  “You do, too.” I pull his face back to me and kiss him, our tongues caressing and easing the rest of our bodies into this primal dance.

  He pulls back then thrusts deep.

  I moan and grip his hair as he starts a quick rhythm then slows, easing in and out as he continues our kiss. Every bit of me is filled with him, and I move my hips with his strokes, getting all the friction I can. I’m already a lit fuse, and the way his body moves is like gasoline on the flame.

  My body is open for him, and he takes everything I offer. I surge with him and pull him close, our bodies pressed together, sweat-slicked and sliding as we kiss and thrust and
pour ourselves into each other.

  He relinquishes my mouth to claim my neck, sucking and biting his way to my shoulder. With an easy movement, he slides one arm under me and grips my shoulder from behind, leveraging me as he thrusts. He goes even deeper, and I arch for him.

  Taking one breast into his mouth, he teases my desire even higher, and when he reaches between us and presses his thumb to my clit, my legs begin to shake.

  “I’m close.” I can barely breathe.

  His thumb moves faster, and he switches to the other nipple, his tongue wicked and perfect. “Come on my cock, show me what that sweet Georgia peach can do.”

  I come. Hard. My hips seize, and I hold my breath as a wave of pleasure crashes down and drowns me in oblivion. I can’t think, can’t do anything except enjoy each quake of bliss as Crane releases my breast and meets my eyes with his beautiful green ones. I run my nails down his chest as I moan, my body in control, my pleasure calling the shots.

  With another thrust, he pushes deep inside, his cock hardening impossibly more, and then he groans, his eyes locked with mine as he comes. I milk him, my walls pressing down as the aftershocks begin and send little tremors of delight through me. He lets out a huge breath, then claims my mouth again, his kiss languid as he rests on his elbows. Still joined, we kiss and float back down to earth like a leaf in a breeze.

  He breaks the kiss and moves a few sweaty strands of hair from my face. “You are definitely not a one-night elf.”

  I smile and kiss him again as some part of me silently defects and goes to live inside him, though I suspect a matching part of him now resides in my heart, as well.

  Chapter 13

  Crane

  Three weeks since I met her. Two weeks of us spending our nights together. And now I wonder how I’ll ever go without her.

  “You’re chipper today.” Henry walks into my office. “Why are you smiling? Did you mow down some reindeer this morning?”