Page 60 of Christmas with the Denton Billionaires

His brows drew together. “No. I’m serious. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?” He swung around, pointing at their reflections.

She caught her deer-in-headlights look and straightened, trying to wipe some of the shock off her face. “Well…thanks. My overworked and underfed lifestyle must be really paying off.”

He smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re the type of woman who only orders salad at restaurants.”

“Salad as astarter,” she clarified. “Which may or may not be followed by an enormous steak.”

The smirk blossomed into a grin. There was something cocky about him now. Like catching him in his own oasis, messing him up and making him fall, had cracked something open between them and now the truth could pour out. He thought she was hot. That’s all she’d heard—that’s all that mattered.

And now her curiosity—as well as her vanity—was aroused.

If he thought she was hot, what else might happen?

“You could have told me. I wouldn’t have gone out of my way trying to arrange those vegetarian masterpieces the past two days.”

It was true—Mitch had made a big deal about bringing in healthy food from the hotel kitchen.

“Hey, everything has been delicious. I have no complaints. None at all. But I wouldn’t mind a healthy slab of meat once in a while.”

He laughed, his gaze raking boldly over her. “I guess that’s what I get for trying to impress you.”

Now her entire body prickled with awareness. That gaze of his might as well have broken skin.

“Impress me?” His attention made her bold now. That undercurrent of attraction wasn’t only on her end; this morning confirmed it. “Why would you have to impress me? I’m just your little ol’ holiday roommate.”

He scoffed, taking another step closer. Beads of sweat rolled down his chest, and the very sight of him was like something from a fever dream. “Trust me. There’s plenty I need to impress here.”

Now her cheeks were flaming. They had to be. Her pussy clenched from wanting him nearer, wanting himon her. Like she’d imagined in the shower yesterday morning…and the morning before that, if she was being honest.

“I don’t know about that,” she said, her voice coming out shaky. “If there’s anyone who needs to do some impressing, it’s me. You look like a Gucci ad. I’m more of a Target ad. AclearanceTarget ad.”

A laugh rocketed out of him, and he closed the distance between them. “If you’re a clearance Target ad, then you’re the deal of the century.”

She laughed, but the knot rising in her throat knocked the sound sideways. He caressed the side of her arm with his fingertips. But not in a friendly way. Not in a hey-we’re-just-making-jokes-in-the-weight-room way. No, his touch told her that he wanted things to go further.

Jules got lost in his gaze. His caress was a command, and hell if she’d disobey it.

She pushed onto her tiptoes, urged forward by lust and the early hour and his near nakedness, and then their lips were touching. His mouth covered hers hungrily, eagerly, as if he’d been thinking about this kiss for days, too. They kissed again and again. His big hands cupped the sides of her face, and then a little whimper escaped her, unbidden, uncontrollable.

The scent of him, the feel of him against her, it was almost too much. She’d never been kissed like this, and she could hear her mother in her head screaming that it was the trappings of luxury that had her floating in space.

But no. This man’s lips, which he parted so that his tongue could slip through—they were velvet and heat and confidence. When the kiss broke and he pulled back, his eyes were clouded with lust. She recognized that look, because it was the same thing that swirled through her—drugged by what just happened.

“Holy…” she managed.

He wet his bottom lip, his gaze stuck on her mouth. “Mm-hmm.”

“I’ve never been kissed like that,” she whispered, then regretted admitting it. “At seven a.m.,” she hurried to add.

“Me neither,” he said. “And I should add,youkissedme.”

She laughed but stopped short once she caught the tones of a wail. Noelle. Probably screaming her lungs out, if she could hear it this far away from the bedroom.

“Oh no! Noelle! Hang on.” Jules rushed out of the weight room, heart in her throat as she hurried to check on the baby. Back in the bedroom, Noelle was wriggling and fussing, so Jules scooped her up into her arms. Mitch entered a moment later, looking concerned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Just crying. Not sure.” She lifted her up and patted her back, in case it was gas. Almost immediately, the cutest little burp erupted from her.

---