Page 19 of Damaged Billionaire Daddy (The Lanes Series #1)

Chapter eighteen

Richie

I watched Kandis as she stood on the chair tiptoe to search the shelf. The jeans she was wearing were too bulky to show off her trim figure, but I could imagine it. The pain pills had kicked in, and I was feeling better now. Our romp in the snow had cost me, but I wouldn’t have given it up.

She had a childlike delight in making snowballs, creating the snowman, and even in sampling the gooey maple syrup treats.

“Why don’t we get into something more comfortable?” I asked. “I’ll make us some treats.”

She had just stepped down off the chair, and now turned toward me with a kind of deer in the headlights look to her face. “Go on,” I said. “I picked out some pretty things for you. I’d like to see you in them before we have to head back to civilization.”

Kandis made a face at me, seemed to think for a minute, then tucked the DVD boxes under her arm, positioned her hands in a prayerful pose in front of her, and bobbed her head as if she were Barbara Eden in “I Dream of Jeannie.” “I hear and obey, Master,” she quipped.

“Hey,” I said. “It’s not that bad. I got some warm choices for you, not just skimpy ones. Then I added, “You could model all of them for me.”

I sorted through the clothing we had purchased and handed the packages to her. She took them and disappeared into the tiny bathroom.

While she was gone, I changed into a pair of silky lounging pajamas.

After all, it wasn’t fair to ask of her something I wasn’t willing to do myself.

After I was in them, I was glad I had gotten warm, fluffy robes for both of us.

Even with the furnace and the stove going, the air in the cabin was cooler than most lowland houses.

I made popcorn using the handheld popper that hung beside the stove. I then stepped out with an ice bucket and got a scoop of snow in it.

Brrrr! It would have been smart if I’d done that before I changed into pajamas and slippers! When I stepped back in, she had emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in her fluffy robe.

She grinned at me, guessing that I’d gotten my priorities mixed up. “Good thing those slippers are sturdy,” she said. “Miserable weather for a pair of scuffs.”

“Mmm, but look what a package I behold as I come back in,” I said, advancing on her with the ice bucket in hand.

She backed up a step. “Whoa, up there, big boy. I’m not sure what you have in mind . . .”

I realized then that she must have thought I was about to revert to our former childish pranks, such as putting snow down her collar. While that might have been fun when we were out romping in the white stuff, junior high antics were not going to get me where I wanted to go.

I obediently backed up, then reached over and picked the bottle of wine off the counter and tucked it into the ice bucket. “I thought about mulling it,” I said, “But it is just too much work. Besides, we can stick some cans of soda in here, too.”

“Oh,” she said, relaxing a little. “Do I smell popcorn?”

“You do,” I said. “Can I get a sneak preview of what you are wearing?”

She blushed, but obediently undid the belt of her robe, and held it wide so I could see. She had chosen the satin lounging pajamas. I could tell from the panty lines that she had on a pair of the fancy, mostly not-there underwear beneath them.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “The baby dolls really are cute, but it is just too cold for shorts.”

“Moderately disappointing,” I said. “But probably true. I was sorry I didn’t get the ice before changing.”

She grinned at me. “I bet. Did you get your feet wet?”

“Nope. Didn’t go off the porch.”

We worked together to organize our goodies and the drinks so we could see the movie and reach our snacks.

We started with Goonies, popcorn and soda. We giggled at the children’s antics and applauded when the true villain was revealed and the treasure found.

She tucked up under my arm and pretended to be afraid while they were navigating the hidden chasm. That was nice in a way I’d not experienced in a long time.

“My mom loved this one,” I whispered into her hair. “I remember Dad holding her, just like this, while us kids sat on the floor. We’d get in trouble for throwing popcorn at each other.”

“Do you see your parents often?” Kandis asked.

I shook my head, surprised to find that I was tearing up. “They’re . . . gone. They went to see my brother. He’s a doctor, volunteering in some God forsaken village in Africa. There was a storm or something, and their yacht sank.”

“Oh, Richie, I’m sorry,” she said softly, reaching over to catch a tear on her fingers.

“It’s nothing,” I say. “It was a while ago. I’m all right.”

“Is your brother your only family, then?” Kandis brushed a lock of hair off my face. That lock always fell over my eyes if I was more than two days out of the barber shop.

I shook my head, trying to settle my hair and my thoughts. “I’ve a younger sister, Rylie. She was in college when my parents’ yacht went missing. I finished raising her, you might say. Paid her tuition, anyway.”

“Good for you,” Kandis approved. “Not everyone would do that.”

I pretended to focus on the movie’s finale, glad when she let it go and we talked about other things.

When the first movie was done, I built up the fire, and Kandis made fondue while I toasted the bread.

We then settled down to watch Princess Bride. It turned out she knew the plot and memorable quotes almost as well as I did, so we didn’t need to focus on the plot.

Instead we drank wine out of a double-sided antique sipping mug and fed each other bites of fondue. Kandis got giggly on the wine and sang me a silly song about sippin’ cider.

She demonstrated for me how “jaw to jaw, then lip to lip” worked if you were sharing a drink.

I did some sipping of my own, tasting the sweet wine on her soft, pliant lips.

I took my time about it, lulling her into a haze of tangy cheese, sweet wine, and delicate nibble kisses that promised and tantalized.

By the time we got to the fire swamp and the Rats of Unusual Size, Kandis was snuggled against me. I was more than happy to focus on making this a special night for her.

The combination of fluffy robe and silky pajamas was titillating and a little frustrating. I wanted to slide my hand inside her robe, but she had it cinched tightly around her and I couldn’t get a good opening without seeming crass or pushy.

Still, it was fun to feed her bits of toast dipped in cheese and to be fed by her in return.

By the time we reached the end of the movie, the fondue was gone and so was about half the bottle of wine. When Buttercup jumped out of the window to share the World’s Greatest Kiss, Kandis was ready to try our version of it.

Her lips were soft beneath mine, and her mouth tasted like grapes and blueberries. Now, I didn’t have any trouble getting her sash undone, and her robe open enough to slide my hands under it.

The soft satin slid under my hands, her warmth . . . no words could describe. She turned in my arms and undid my sash.

I shrugged out of my robe. I knew what I looked like, and I worked hard to maintain it. PT notwithstanding, it wasn’t easy. But I was determined not to be one of those ex-jocks with a paunch.

Her small hands explored my ribs, sending electric shivers all up and down my body. As if mesmerized, which was pretty close to the truth, I slid the soft robe off her shoulders.

The satin pajamas suited her. The baby dolls would have looked cute, but she was beautiful. The square shoulders of the pj top accentuated her lightly muscled shoulders and draped perfectly over her breasts. Her nipples were erect, tiny pebbles that pressed against the fabric.

I ran my thumb across one and she shivered. I felt myself harden in response.

“We need to put our last movie in,” she said with a little gasp, “Or we won’t get to watch it.”

“Do you want to watch it?” I asked, my loins already tingling with desire for her.

“Mmm—hmm,” she murmured in the affirmative. “It’s my favorite, and I’ve not seen it for a long time.”

“All right,” I said. I started to roll over, but a twinge in my bruised hip suggested if I wanted other exercise, I’d better take it easy. “Maybe you could put it in?”

She hopped off the bed, all lithe grace. I could see panty lines that indicated she’d put on a pair of those barely-there panties under the satin pajamas. It was going to be like unwrapping a gift package.

She was shivering by the time she got back to me. “Why don’t we snuggle under the covers while we watch this one?” she suggested.

I wanted to see her. It had been dark in the car for our first time, and she’d been nervous at her grandparents’ house, so that had been me having a good time making her uncomfortable. I know. Doesn’t say anything good about my character, but she was just so fun to tease!

In the car, on the way to the wedding, she’d been mostly obscured by that ridiculous dress. I really should have done more than looked at the purchase price, the name of the modiste, and the catalog illustration.

But she had worn it well, and under all those layers, she had been so hot and ready. Just the memory created warmth in my loins.

Now, I had her all alone in my great-grandfather’s cabin. I had truly hoped for a fashion show, modeling the underwear we had picked up. But it was too cold for that. I might. . .no, I was a cad of the first degree, but I was not truly cruel. There was nothing sexy about goosebumps.

So, a small disappointment. But the cold in the room encouraged snuggling, which certainly had its appeal.

“There’s grapes, strawberries, and more cheese in the refrigerator,” I called out. “You could bring them back with you?”

“Sure,” she said, opening the refrigerator door. As she bent over to rummage in the vegetable and fruit drawer in the fridge, I got a good look at her luscious, round bottom and those enticing panty lines.

Yep. She was wearing the skimpy underwear — the ones that were scarcely more than a triangle of lace and some strings of elastic.

When she stood up and turned around, her nipples had hardened in the cold and were clearly outlined by the satiny top.

I didn’t get long to look, however, because she padded quickly across the cabin floor, unceremoniously plopped the goodies on the table, and nearly dove under the blankets.

Her feet touched my thighs, and I drew in a sharp breath. They were like two blocks of ice with tiny frozen toe pebbles attached. “Next time, put on your slippers,” I growled, “That floor is cold.”

“I noticed,” she sniped back at me. Then she added, “Could it be getting colder?”

I thought about that. It could get colder, that was certain. “It might. But we should be fine. The propane was topped up, and we have the stove for backup if the furnace goes out. But if you are really worried, we have plenty of blankets, and I think I can find a way to keep us warm.”