Page 35 of The Billionaire's Christmas Bride

"Do you have something against clocks or something? Maybe you don’t like the idea of time running out?" She chuckles.

I turn my back on her.

I hear her open the drawers, "Okay I found the batteries. I am going to—"

"Put it back." I snap.

"What?"

"Put the bloody clock back where you found it."

There’s a pause.

"If you don’t do it, I swear I’ll come there and make you do it."

She huffs. There’s a click as she places the timepiece back on the table.

"I’ve returned the batteries to the drawer," she mutters. "So don’t get your dander up about it."

The breath I’d not been aware of holding rushes out.

Shit, the hell is wrong with me? Why the hell am I getting worked up over this little thing?It is a clock—a functioning clock. Doesn’t mean anything.Why the hell can’t I bear the thought of it counting down the time as I sleep?

The numbers mounting, the hands moving, the tick-tock-tick-tock of the countdown as he’d watched me closely, peered into my face, searched for a reaction, anything to show I was afraid, that I’d give in and break, ask for help. Ask it, do it. My heart thunders in my chest. Close your eyes. Count down the time.

Twelve o'clock.

Eleven o’clock—

I hear the sound of something connecting with that massive suitcase. Then a howl, "Bloody hell!"

I switch on the light. "What are you doing?"

She sits on the ground, nursing one booted foot. "Taking out my frustration, you oaf." Her hair flows about her shoulders. Her cheeks are pink. From anger? From embarrassment at seeing me naked? Considering she’s already had her mouth on my dick… Well, isn’t that cute.

"There are better ways of dealing with it." I lower my gaze to her heaving breasts.

"Aargh, stop that." She yanks off one boot, then the other. "Turn away."

"Why?"

"I want to undress, you… you neanderthal."

I laugh, "Running out of insults?"

"Oh, I have plenty where that came from." She pulls off her other boot, then rises to her feet. "Some privacy please?"

"Not happening." I lean back against the headboard, fold an arm behind my neck. Her gaze darts to my biceps; she swallows. I scratch my chest and her breasts heave. A glimmer of sweat gleams over her upper lip. "Is it too hot in here for you?" I grin.

She huffs, then undoes the button of her coat and pushes it off her shoulder. She glances around, then walks to the closet and pulls it open. She surveys the contents, then hangs it up. "You didn’t bring too many clothes, did you?" she grumbles.

"Worried about me?" I smirk.

She throws up her hands, then steps back and slams the closet doors shut, "It’s pointless making any conversation with you."

"You were the one who declined to answer my question."

"Whatever." She pulls off her jeans, giving me a flash of pink underwear. My groin instantly tightens.Fuck.She is more modestly dressed than women wearing skimpy bikinis on the beach… So why does she seem so much more alluring, so attractive…? So fucking gorgeous, as she folds her jeans then places them on the chair near the bed. She lifts a corner of the cover, then slips inside. She stays on the far end… Right at the end. "Any further and you’ll slip off."