Page 92 of Christmas with the Denton Billionaires

“What will you do?” A mischievous smirk crossed her face, and she pushed herself into his line of vision, seeking his gaze. “Come on, play it up like you do for the cameras. What’s big bad Chef Chris gonna do?”

A hint of her scent wafted toward him—vanilla and ginger from today’s baking—and washed over him like a caress. And then he was falling, falling into the past. Back when their barbs were laced with tenderness and every close encounter ended in the kisses and touches that he always craved from her.

Apparently, not much had changed. Just inches away from her, his heart pounded like he’d run a marathon, and his lips already tingled as if he’d kissed her.

“The cameras are off, Mara. The crew is gone. Besides, you’d like it too much,” he said, his voice coming out gruff.

Her eyebrow lifted, and the remaining space between them shrank. Chris gritted his teeth, both shocked and calmed by how much he missed having her in his life. Even after a decade apart and all this bad blood that still pumped between them.

“What could you possibly do that I would like?”

He could have sworn that she pushed herself up on her toes, as if proffering herself. Like she wanted to smash her lips against his as badly as he did.

Chris swallowed hard, feeling his last dregs of rational thought drift away. Fuck it. He was going for it. They were standing a breath apart in this vast kitchen. She had to be feeling it too. There was only one way to find out.

He captured her lips in an urgent kiss, his palm finding the back of her head. Her lips were velvet, so soft and hungry and warm. Kisses like these made him want to ensure they lasted forever. No matter the consequences.

4

MARA

Mara lingered there only a moment before pulling back with a gasp. She searched Chris’s face, trying to pinpoint his motive. Was this revenge, somehow? Was this a tactic? Or was this him responding to the very real sexual tension rushing between them harder than Niagara Falls?

She couldn’t tell. And hell, maybe she didn’t want to know the reason. Every inch of her wanted those lips against hers again, even if it was the worst idea ever.

Mara grabbed at the collar of his shirt before she could think better of it. Their lips came crashing together a second time, this time in a punishing kiss. There was heartbreak and eagerness and confusion there, and the whole mess of it scorched beneath her skin and lit her up more than any single lackluster ex of hers ever had.

Goddammit, Chris.This phrase raced through her mind, over and over again, as they kissed, their lips and limbs seeking each other as if she’d been waiting the past ten years for this to happen again. Finally! The thought settled strangely inside her—could that be true? She sure hoped not. But there was only one way to find out if her high-school heartbreak could finally be laid to rest.

And it had a lot to do with fucking Chris in the middle of the show kitchen.

Mara tugged at his shirt, fingers seeking the hard planes of his body underneath. Chris grunted, and they broke their kisses long enough for him to rip her apron over her head and toss it aside. Mara found his mouth again urgently, deliriously, as if the half-second she’d been away from his kisses had drained her.

There was no denying it—the man had something special about him. Sure, it was laced with arrogance and cockiness and heavily doused with asshole. But these kisses? These were the kisses of romance novels, and goddammit, why were they even better than she remembered?

“Oh, my God,” she mumbled through a kiss as Chris’s hands traced the curves of her body through her long-sleeved cotton shirt. When his hands reached her hips, he pushed his palms over the mounds of her ass and gave both her ass cheeks a good squeeze.

Her breath shivered out of her. “Jesus, Chris.”

“Mmm?”

“What are we doing?” Her lips left a trail of kisses along his jawline. He grunted again.

“I don’t know. But I like it.” He squeezed her ass cheeks again, and then one hand snaked around in front. He swiped his thumb over the crease of her pussy. Even though she was wearing jeans, the contact sent a jolt through her. She gasped without meaning to. Part of her felt like she could break into a million pieces from wanting him. But the rational part of her told her to woman up and step away.

Chris unbuttoned her jeans then and slid his hands into her pants. The heat of his palms cupping her butt prompted a long moan from her. Any doubts or questions about where she wanted this to lead were washed away.

She needed this from him. Now.

“You just want to fuck right here in the middle of the kitchen?” she asked, blinking away the fog of arousal as she tried to scope out the multipurpose room. Everyone had left for the day. They had the all-clear. She undid the buttons of his shirt.

“I don’t see why not.” A lazy smile crossed his lips, and for a moment he was still the charismatic, gangly teen heartthrob from her past. The gorgeous boy she’d fallen for and made out with so many times behind bleachers and between classes. His pitch-black hair was mussed, his lips swollen from their overeager kisses.

Clarity returned to her in an overwhelming rush. “But what about the cameras? Are you sure they’re off? They’ll see us fucking. The entire country will know we got it on.”

Chris shook his head, his eyes never leaving her lips. “This isn’tBig Brother. Besides, even if one camera did happen to catch us, they would never air that for this show. It’s family-friendly.”

They shared a long, heavy glance. Chris squeezed her ass again, and she inhaled sharply. That had always been her weak spot. And he hadn’t forgotten. Her panties went damp, and as her eyes fluttered shut, she knew her decision was made.

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