Page 15 of A Billionaire's Holiday Love

Our gazes met. “Thank you, Noah.”

“Your mother would definitely be proud of you. You over done it in the Christmas spirit department.”

She grinned. “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she stated with a southern twang.

“What about you? Do you own your house?”

I nodded. “Yes, like you I travel, but owning a home made me feel like I’ve accomplished something. Growing up, my dad struggled to make ends meet. Mom worked, but I think she did it mainly to get out of the house a few days a week. She was a cashier at the local grocery store in town. My brothers and I learned how to use our hands to build and fix things to earn money to help our family. I mentioned earlier I gave skiing lessons sometimes to tourists, of course.”

She shook her head.

Dad’s occasional dose of rage growing up sponsored by Evan Williams whiskey fueled my anger and bitterness toward everyone.

“I’m grateful you’re good with your hands.” Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

Oh baby, you’ll see how good I am with my hands, tongue, and long, thick peppermint stick. I flashed a grin.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m speaking of your ability to fix things.”

You’ll find out how good my dick fixes your pussy.

She placed her hand on her red hooded head and laughed. “You know what I meant.”

“I do. Would you like another drink?”

“No, thank you. Sleep’s calling my name.” She stood and stretched.

I couldn’t make out an outline of her body because of the red robe.

“Noah, thanks for letting me stay here tonight.”

I stared into her big dark eyes. “It’s no problem.”

“I’ll place the cup in the sink.”

“No, I’ll take it. Leave it on the table.”

She tossed the rest of the harsh contents to the back of her throat, sat it on the table, then walked down the hall into the bedroom.

A few minutes later, I laid on the sofa, staring at the orange and blue flames flickering in the fireplace. Hope laid in the next room and she consumed my thoughts. What made her so special? Besides her obsession with this stupid holiday. I could see us living together and Hope forcing me to wear a stupid Santa hat. Shit, I could have any woman I wanted, and I laid here fantasizing about the woman in the next room who had beautiful cinnamon skin. I’d never tire of running my tongue over every decadent curve. This dreadful vacation became brighter now that I’d see her gorgeous face every day.

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