Page 29 of Merry with a Tycoon

It’s just the two of us—the taste of his skin, the sound of his ragged breathing as I push him down on the bed and kiss a path down his body, my hand wrapping around his hard length.

Preston groans, his hips bucking involuntarily as I tease him with my tongue before taking him fully in my mouth. His fingers tangle in my hair as I work him with lips and tongue bringing him to the edge before pulling back.

“Crystal,” he pants, voice strained. “I need you. Now.”

In one swift motion, he flips us over so I’m straddling him. Reaching for his pants, he retrieves a packet, ripping it with his teeth.

“Let me,” I say, gently taking the condom wrapper from his hands. With trembling fingers, I roll the condom onto his length, relishing the way his breath catches as I touch him.

Our eyes lock as I slowly lower myself onto him, gasping at the delicious stretch. Preston’s hands grip my hips, guiding mymovements as we find a rhythm together. The world narrows to just this moment—the slide of skin on skin, the building pressure in my core, the look of awe on Preston’s face as he watches me move above him.

“Look at me,” he whispers, and I open my eyes to find his intense gaze locked on mine. The intimacy of the moment takes my breath away.

The intensity of Preston’s gaze nearly undoes me. I want to look away, to shield myself from the raw emotion I see there, but I can’t. His blue eyes hold me captive as we move together, our bodies joining in a dance as old as time.

“Crystal,” he breathes, and my name on his lips sounds like a prayer. His hands roam my back, pulling me impossibly closer as our hips rock in perfect synchronicity.

The pressure builds, a delicious tension coiling tighter and tighter in my core. Preston’s movements become more urgent, his breathing ragged against my neck. I can feel myself teetering on the edge, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

“Let go,” Preston murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “I’ve got you.”

His words are my undoing. With a cry, I shatter around him, waves of pleasure crashing over me. Preston follows soon after, his body tensing beneath me as he finds his own release.

For a long moment, we stay like that, tangled together, our ragged breaths the only sound in the room. Eventually, I roll off him, instantly missing his warmth. But Preston doesn’t let me go far. He pulls me close, tucking me under his arm and against his side.

I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat as it slowly returns to normal, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin.

For a long moment, we stay like that, tangled together, our ragged breathing the only sound in the room. Preston’s arms are wrapped tightly around me, his face buried in my neck.

Slowly, reality begins to seep back in. The sweat cooling on our skin, the faint sounds of traffic outside my window, the realization of what we’ve just done... again. I should move, should put some distance between us, but I can’t bring myself to break this moment.

Preston seems to sense my hesitation. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

I nod, not trusting my voice. The tenderness in his touch threatens to undo me all over again.

I know I should pull away, maintain some semblance of distance, but my body betrays me, curling into his warmth.

“Stay,” I whisper before I can stop myself. “Just for tonight.”

Preston’s arms tighten around me, and I feel him press a soft kiss to my forehead. “Of course,” he murmurs. “As long as you want me, I’m here.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between us. I want to ask what he means, to define this thing between us, but I’m afraid of the answer. Instead, I close my eyes and let myself be lulled by the steady rhythm of Preston’s heartbeat.

As the first rays of morning sunlight filter through the curtains, I stir awake, my body pleasantly sore from the night’s activities. For a moment, I bask in the warmth of Preston’s embrace, allowing myself to imagine a world where this could be our every morning.

But reality crashes in like a cold wave as I open my eyes fully. The space beside me is empty, the sheets cool to the touch. My heart sinks as I sit up, scanning the room for any sign of Preston.

That’s when I see it – a single red rose resting on the pillow where his head had been.

My fingers tremble as I reach for the rose, its velvety petals soft against my skin. For a moment, I allow myself to breathe in its sweet fragrance, to imagine Preston carefully placing it there before he left.

But there’s no note, no explanation, just the silent beauty of the flower. And suddenly, it’s not enough. The weight of everything—Preston’s status, Vivian’s reappearance, the impossibility of our situation—comes crashing down on me.

I clutch the rose to my chest, feeling the prick of its thorns against my palm. The pain is almost a relief, a physical manifestation of the ache in my heart.

What was I thinking? One magical night—or two—doesn’t change who we are, where we come from. Preston Hollister belongs to a world I can never truly be part of, no matter how much I might wish otherwise.

Maybe it worked for Willy and Brogan, but Preston is… different. He had Vivian.

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