Page 22 of The Billionaire's Christmas Bride

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"Whatever," I mutter.

"What was that?"

“I said, ‘What-fucking-ever,’" I say, with more aggression that I am feeling.

"Hmm, you have spirit. That’s good."

"Oh, stop talking in riddles."

"That’s Saint," he chuckles.

"What?"

"Doesn’t matter." He draws in a breath, then straightens his shoulders, "Enough beating around the bush. It’s six days to Christmas. We spend it together. You do everything I ask of you in that time."

"What does that mean?" I stare.

"Exactly what it sounds like. Nothing hidden."

"Does it mean…uh…?"

"What?"

"You know."

"No, I don’t." He smirks.

Oh, spit it out already, why the hell am I being coy?"Sexual favors," I burst out.

"Only if you want it to," he replies.

I blink. "You mean…"

He nods.

"So, if I decided I didn’t want to blow you again..."

"You’d be missing out," he rolls his shoulders, "but your call."

"You sure?"

"Would I lie?"

"Wouldn’t you?"

He grins. "I love this little sparring thing we have going on..."

I purse my lips together, "It’s not ‘little’ anything."

"That’s true," he chuckles.

“Oh, my God!” I throw up my hands. "We get on each other’s nerves. That’s all it is."

"Hmm," he scratches his jaw, "you may be right there. We’ll have to tone it down though, when we’re seen in public."

"Public?"

He nods, "I have to go to visit my family sometime before Christmas and you’ll come along, of course."

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