Page 30 of Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

She was glorious. Everything he had ever fantasized about and more.

It was just sex.

What a relief.

Because he understood this. Because this made sense.

And he could have her. He could have this.

He kissed her, deep and long and endlessly.

He kissed her because he wanted her.

He kissed her until she was whimpering, until she brought her hands up to grip the fabric of his T-shirt. She was kneading him like a little cat, her nails sharp through the fabric.

“You do want me,” he said, looking down at her.

She turned red again. “Yes,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for your passion. You’re beautiful.”

He was going to show her. He was going to show her exactly what he wanted to do with her. Petite and pretty and about to be his.

The snow would melt. He would buy this place, and he would level it. They would never see each other again. She would hate him after.

But she wanted him now. So he would have her.

It was that simple.

This was simple.

It would change nothing. Because nothing ever changed him.

He picked her up, and carried her over to the fireplace, laying her down on the plush rug. A kick of annoyance hit him in the chest. He didn’t think he had any condoms with him. This was a business trip, and he was one to keep things compartmentalized. He thought it was perhaps a little bit too much to ask that the woman who had been dressed like a deer had condoms.

“I don’t have protection,” he said.

She looked confused for a moment. “Oh,” she said. She frowned deeply. “I take birth control.”

He was fastidious in all things, and he knew that he had nothing to worry about as far as cleanliness. Perhaps she made a habit of sleeping with men when she didn’t have condoms. He doubted it.

“If that’s all right with you,” he said.

She nodded. “It is. It’s okay with me.”

The color in her cheeks was high, but it wasn’t from embarrassment now. She seemed excited.

“Good. Now that we have gotten responsibility out of the way.”

He stripped his shirt off, and the rest of his clothes. Her shoulders were scrunched up by her ears, and it looked as if she wasn’t certain where she was allowed to look.

“What?” he asked.

“You just... Oh... You are... Impressive.”

There was something so sweet, so guileless about the way that she said that. About the way that she looked at him. He couldn’t help but be charmed. He couldn’t help but be mesmerized.

“It’s your turn now.”

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