Page 45 of The Billionaire's Christmas Bride

"Too late, old sport." Arpad chuckles, "Told ya, he won’t last the holidays, but wow." He scowls at me, "You’ve only been with her since yesterday. Isn’t that a little too soon…?"

"What are you talking about?" Clearly I am being slow on the uptake here. "And how do all of you know about her—?" Realization dawns. "That fucker—Saint." Anger sweeps my blood, "He let you all in on his dumbass plan?" I roll my shoulders, "Don’t you have anything better to do than trade gossip?"

"Aw, he’s no longer any more fun," Arpad shakes his head.

"Wankers gone for a toss." Damian grins, "Does that make him a tossing wanker or a wanking tosser?"

"Guys, go easy on him." Edward grins, "He’s one dropkick away from having his heart broken."

I raise my phone and bring it down, intent on smashing it, then stop myself. Fuck, if I don’t need the bloody device right now. Not that I can’t replace it, but if what the Father said is true and snow is on its way... Then hell, all the money in the world couldn’t deliver me an alternative mode of communication. Maybe I should have insisted on having the helicopter parked on the helipad in the field. Damn, missed opportunity.

"For the last time, there’s nothing between us," I growl.Why the fuck am I even explaining it to these douchebags, huh?Maybe it’s because they are the closest I have to non-blood family; though right now, I’m not sure if they are my friends or my enemies.

"You don’t have to convince us," Arpad nods.

"Right, I don’t care about your personal uh—relations. Of course, I care about your state of mind, which at the moment, seems rather frayed at the edges," Edward points out.

"As I was saying," I draw in a breath, "she happens to be here; so am I. We’ve come to an agreement, and that includes taking her home to get my mother off my back."

"Right, you keep fooling yourself, ol’ sport." Damian grins. "Not that I’m not rooting for you. I mean, I want you to get through the holiday season without getting hitched." He scratches his chin, "Although, if you did get married, I’d still win, in a matter of speaking, so—"

"Fuck you, motherfuckers." I hang up.What the fuck was that all about?

The hair on the back of my neck rises and I hear a sound behind me. All of my senses go on alert; I pivot, fists raised.

13

Amelie

"It’s me; it’s only me," I squeak.

His chest heaves, his color pale. He glares at me as if he’s seen a ghost.

"Weston?" I prompt.

His gaze fixes on my face. His jaw tics. The tendons of his throat move. The skin across his knuckles stretches tight. If his control had been less than perfect, I have no doubt, I’d be on the ground, with his fist buried in my face. Hell, I wouldn’t mind other parts of him buried inside of me, given what had transpired between us earlier. It’s clear that we are as compatible as cheese and biscuits.WTF?Enough with the cheesy comparisons…Noooo, now I am punning on my own poor jokes? Gah!

"Wes?" I take a step forward; he watches me. I raise a hand; his gaze stays on mine. I reach up on tip toe and cup his cheek. "You okay?"

He blinks, lowers his fists.

A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding whooshes out. At the same time, he draws his in.

"Wes?" I step close enough for my boots to kiss his. His gaze intensifies. Those colorless eyes seem to mirror every emotion, every confusion, every screwed-up, mixed-up thought that I feel inside.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Why wouldn’t it be?" He steps back from me and the heat of his big body recedes.

A hollow feeling coils low in my belly.What had I been expecting?That after the way he’d made me orgasm earlier, he’d…be more tender toward me? Maybe throw me down and decide to forget about our 'arrangement' and make love to me?Hell, I want him to fuck me… There, I’ve said it out loud. Well, not really out loud, thank God.I’d settle for him having me any which way—frontways, sideways, bent over, with my arse up in the air for him… My cheeks heat.Jesus H, something about this man brings out the filthy girl hidden inside of me.The one who wanted to hold onto more than his ears as I rode him off into the sunset. Huh? That picture… It’s hot… And all wrong.

"What are you doing here?" He frowns.

"I, uh, woke up and you were gone—"

He looks me up and down, "Is that a… What are you wearing?"

I glance down at my pullover. "What?"