Page 8 of Cinderella's Christmas Secret

‘You are wearing far too many clothes,’ he growled, skating his fingertips over her trembling body. ‘And part of me wishes you’d kept that crazy costume on so I could have had the pleasure of removing it. I’ve never undressed an elf before.’

Did that mean he didn’t like her woollen dress? Probably—it was undoubtedly very staid in comparison, though comparisons were never a good thing, certainly not in her case. But as he peeled it over her head before efficiently disposing of her tights, Hollie suddenly forgot about her insecurities.

‘You’re shivering,’ he observed.

‘The upstairs of this cottage is f-freezing.’

‘And is that the only reason you’re shivering?’

She liked the teasing note in his voice. Was it that which gave her the courage to hook her hand around the back of his head and brush her lips close to his?

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Not just that, no.’

His soft laugh was tinged with faint triumph as he pulled back the duvet and pushed her down onto the mattress. ‘So why don’t you warm up the bed for me?’ he suggested as he pulled the duvet over her. ‘While I get out of these clothes.’

Hollie studied him hungrily as he peeled off his sweater, her mouth drying to dust as his fingers slipped to the button of his trousers. She was grateful that the room was in semi-darkness, which successfully hid the burn of her cheeks as, slowly, he slid the zip down. And she didn’t avert her gaze, not once. Even when he kicked off his boxer shorts to reveal the powerful shaft of his erection, though it was the first time she had ever seen a naked man before.

He climbed into bed beside her and when he took her in his arms, she felt so warm and so...safe—that she buried her head in his shoulder, overcome by a sudden emotion she couldn’t put a name to.

‘Mi belleza...’ he breathed, exploring her trembling flesh with his fingers until she felt as if she were melting, and then unclipping her bra so that her large breasts came tumbling out. And when he put his mouth to her puckered nipple and sucked, Hollie felt as if she were going to dissolve with pleasure.

How could it be that she wasn’t feeling the slightest bit shy? Even though she was wearing nothing but a pair of panties, which were growing damper by the second as she clung to him as if her life depended on it. Because that was what it felt like. As if she hadn’t known what it was to be properly alive before Maximo Diaz kissed her. As if she’d die if she didn’t get more of him. More of this...this fierce flame of desire which was arrowing through her body and setting her on fire, making her feel as if she were on the verge of hurtling towards some place of unimaginable bliss.

‘Maximo,’ she breathed, her voice sounding slurred and nothing like her voice at all. ‘That is so...so incredible.’

His dark head lifted its attention from her breast and his eyes grew smoky as he moved up the bed to kiss her again, his tongue nudging inside her parted lips. And Hollie let her tongue fence with his, loving this brand-new intimacy as her breasts pressed eagerly against his bare chest, as if her button-hard nipples were trying to communicate some unspoken need to him. And instantly he answered it, his hand reaching down to run his fingertip over the damp gusset of her panties. She quivered as he brushed against her swollen bud through the sodden material and felt the whisper of his words on her lip.

‘And so are you.’ He shook his head and swallowed. ‘I never imagined you’d be so...’

‘So, what?’ she questioned breathlessly.

He seemed to recover some of his poise, tugging at the elasticated edge of her plain panties. ‘Well, you’re a little overdressed, for one thing.’

‘Am I?’

‘Mmm...’ For a moment he grazed another teasing fingertip over her damp panties, which made her squirm with delight and frustration, before sliding them off and allowing them to join the tangle of other clothes which were scattered over the floor of her small bedroom. ‘But you are also hot. Surprisingly hot. Like my every fantasy brought to life. Who knew?’

‘So are you,’ she whispered boldly, splaying her fingers over his bare chest and thinking how rich his olive skin looked in the soft lamplight. Tentatively she rubbed at one of his nipples, silently enjoying his corresponding shudder of pleasure which gave her the confidence to return the compliment. ‘You are my every fantasy, too.’

For a moment he grew still, then drew his head away from hers. His black eyes were narrowed but there was no mistaking the sudden warning which glinted from their ebony depths. ‘But fantasies aren’t real,’ he said silkily. ‘We both know that, don’t we?’

‘No, of course they’re not. Absolutely they’re not.’ Eager to convey her agreement, Hollie nodded, instinctively knowing what he wanted, or, more importantly, what he didn’t want. He didn’t want her reading too much into this and falling for him and, to be honest, that was the last thing she wanted either. She didn’t know much about what made men tick but she’d recognised from the get-go that Maximo Diaz was the last person to hitch her star to. Yes, she’d had a crush on him since the first time they’d met and, yes, that feeling had just grown and grown—but she certainly wasn’t alone in feeling that way. That she now found herself naked in bed with him wasn’t something she’d imagined would happen, not in her wildest dreams. That it had happened in a way which seemed completely natural made her feel comfortable with her own body for the first time in her life and she was grateful to him for that. So why should she deny herself the inevitable outcome of them being here like this?

Why should she?

Always, she’d stuck rigidly to the path of convention, because life had felt safer that way. But nothing was ever completely safe and Maximo had been right. For once she wanted to dabble with impulsiveness instead of dependability. She’d never been in love—never wanted to be in love, for that matter—because she’d witnessed the fallout which could result from investing in such an unreliable emotion. She’d never had a boyfriend who had lasted longer than a month and she’d never been turned on enough to get any further than accepting a couple of mechanical fumbles, which had turned her stomach and made her call an instant halt to them.

She’d thought she was one of those women who just didn’t feel physical desire. The kind of woman people used to mock and call frigid. But Maximo Diaz was in the process of demonstrating that there was nothing wrong with her body. Nothing at all. Just so long as she didn’t start entertaining any unrealistic expectations of some kind of future with the Spanish tycoon. Because that wasn’t just impractical—it was stupid.

She closed her eyes as he sank his lips to hers again and moved his hand between her thighs, and Hollie wrapped her arms tightly around his muscular shoulders as if he were her rock and her anchor. How was it possible to feel this good, with a man’s tongue in her mouth and his finger strumming at her bare bud with sweetly accurate intensity? But idle reflection was no longer possible, not when a sudden clench of desire was making her heated body as taut as the string of a newly tuned violin.

‘Maximo!’ she gasped.

He lifted his head, mockery and passion glinting in his eyes. ‘What is it?’ he husked.

She wanted to tell him to stop. She wanted to tell him never to stop. But then it was happening. Her body had started clenching around his finger, with swift and perfect spasms, and she was crying out something which sounded as if it had been to

rn from somewhere deep inside her, as the world splintered into a kaleidoscope of vivid rainbows.

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