Read Online Billionaire's Christmas Vixen by Cara Nelson - Free Book Online
Authors: Cara Nelson
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across his chest as she draped her arm across him, his hands wrapped around her back, softly caressing it. The light faded slowly, the corners of the room, every nook of the room, beginning to blend with one another. Was the fire dying, or was her mind allowing her to wander? She imagined that those lips had been elsewhere, and she could feel herself blush from those thoughts. She just wasn’t that type of woman.
But what if she was? What if she was the type of woman who took chances? Who chased her dreams and not others ideals? What if she was the type of woman who jumped right now, reaching up to kiss the playboy, pulling him to her in a want too strong for her to ignore? What if she was the type of woman who went home tomorrow morning and told her parents that enough was enough, that she was going to finally live her life for her and stop living it for them?
His breathing had slowed against her, and she felt a clenching in her stomach. She took one deep breath after another, feeling the quickening thud, thud, thud as her pulse sped. She glanced up at his closed eyes, and at the close range, was able to finally study his features. His firm jaw, his thick nose that wasn’t quite perfectly aligned, as if it had been broken in his past (probably in one of those childhood moments that he was so reluctant to share with her). Tentatively, she reached a hand up to his chin and ran her fingers across the slight show of stubble, feeling it scratch and tickle at her fingertips. He stirred as she traced his jaw line up to his cheek and then back again.
She turned into him so that her chest was pressed lightly against him. He moved beside her, but did not let her go. Raising up, face to face with him, she could feel his breath on her lips, tasting of the remnants of his coffee, sweet and heavy. She breathed him in and leaned forward so she could place her lips to his. In the last moment, however, she jerked her head to the side and pressed her lips to his cheek instead, cursing herself for her forwardness, even if he was asleep and would know no better.
She couldn’t have been more wrong in her thoughts that he would sleep through her adoring touch, through her unsolicited kiss. She pulled away slowly, hoping to not rouse him from his sleep. He still woke, his hand around her lower back pulling her to him, raising her up so that her lips were only inches from his. His eyes fluttered open sleepily and met with hers. He said nothing, only studying her. He did not touch or glance at any part of her other than her eyes, but still, she felt naked in his arms.
She waited for him to make the move, but when he didn’t, she felt herself grow frustrated. Leave it to George Clark to be the type to hold back, to restrain himself in a moment like this. She pictured George as the type of man that would take advantage of any and every situation. Had he not told her to do the same thing early that evening? She had expected that he would be the type that wouldn’t hesitate, but here he was, hesitating.
Brea sank back from him. There must have been something wrong with her if even George Clark turned her down. What the hell, though? She was never going to see him again, was never going to speak to him again, was never going to have to worry over the humiliation of him turning her away, so why not make the move herself? Why wait for him to do it when she had just as much control over the situation as he? Breathing in sharply, she leaned in.
Chapter 13
He wasn’t sure if she going to do it at all. Wasn’t sure if she even wanted to. When he’d pulled her near, if he was being honest, it had been an attempt to sway her from closing herself from him. The slight, soft pressure of her body against his, her hand still linked with his, her hair smelling of fresh lilac raising up to meet him. He was tempted to run his fingers through her hair and to feel the texture of it. But she had already turned away from the intimate moment, and he
But what if she was? What if she was the type of woman who took chances? Who chased her dreams and not others ideals? What if she was the type of woman who jumped right now, reaching up to kiss the playboy, pulling him to her in a want too strong for her to ignore? What if she was the type of woman who went home tomorrow morning and told her parents that enough was enough, that she was going to finally live her life for her and stop living it for them?
His breathing had slowed against her, and she felt a clenching in her stomach. She took one deep breath after another, feeling the quickening thud, thud, thud as her pulse sped. She glanced up at his closed eyes, and at the close range, was able to finally study his features. His firm jaw, his thick nose that wasn’t quite perfectly aligned, as if it had been broken in his past (probably in one of those childhood moments that he was so reluctant to share with her). Tentatively, she reached a hand up to his chin and ran her fingers across the slight show of stubble, feeling it scratch and tickle at her fingertips. He stirred as she traced his jaw line up to his cheek and then back again.
She turned into him so that her chest was pressed lightly against him. He moved beside her, but did not let her go. Raising up, face to face with him, she could feel his breath on her lips, tasting of the remnants of his coffee, sweet and heavy. She breathed him in and leaned forward so she could place her lips to his. In the last moment, however, she jerked her head to the side and pressed her lips to his cheek instead, cursing herself for her forwardness, even if he was asleep and would know no better.
She couldn’t have been more wrong in her thoughts that he would sleep through her adoring touch, through her unsolicited kiss. She pulled away slowly, hoping to not rouse him from his sleep. He still woke, his hand around her lower back pulling her to him, raising her up so that her lips were only inches from his. His eyes fluttered open sleepily and met with hers. He said nothing, only studying her. He did not touch or glance at any part of her other than her eyes, but still, she felt naked in his arms.
She waited for him to make the move, but when he didn’t, she felt herself grow frustrated. Leave it to George Clark to be the type to hold back, to restrain himself in a moment like this. She pictured George as the type of man that would take advantage of any and every situation. Had he not told her to do the same thing early that evening? She had expected that he would be the type that wouldn’t hesitate, but here he was, hesitating.
Brea sank back from him. There must have been something wrong with her if even George Clark turned her down. What the hell, though? She was never going to see him again, was never going to speak to him again, was never going to have to worry over the humiliation of him turning her away, so why not make the move herself? Why wait for him to do it when she had just as much control over the situation as he? Breathing in sharply, she leaned in.
Chapter 13
He wasn’t sure if she going to do it at all. Wasn’t sure if she even wanted to. When he’d pulled her near, if he was being honest, it had been an attempt to sway her from closing herself from him. The slight, soft pressure of her body against his, her hand still linked with his, her hair smelling of fresh lilac raising up to meet him. He was tempted to run his fingers through her hair and to feel the texture of it. But she had already turned away from the intimate moment, and he
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