The CEO's Christmas Proposition / His Expectant Ex: The CEO's Christmas Proposition

“Yes!”

She flung her arms around his neck, shedding the blanket draped over her shoulders along with any and all remaining doubts.

Cal made a sound halfway between a growl and a grunt of fierce satisfaction. His free hand tunneled under her hips. With one quick maneuver, he had her flat on her back.

His mouth was harder now, more demanding, but Devon’s hunger matched his. She locked her arms around his neck and strained against him. Hip to hip, mouth to mouth, they explored the feel, the taste, the texture of each other.

He didn’t ask for permission to progress to step three. Probably because Devon was already there. Fighting free of her ski jacket, she relieved him of his, then yanked up the hem of his turtleneck and silky thermal shirt. Her hands were hot and greedy as she planed them over his back and waist and the hard, taut curve of his butt.

He wasted no time in following suit. Her lavender sweater and black silk long-john top came up and over her head with a couple of swift tugs. Her boots hit the floor next. With a speed that left her breathless, Cal peeled off her ski pants and long-john bottoms.

His hot, hungry gaze roamed from her breasts to her belly. The flesh mounded so enticingly by her black lace demi-bra brought an appreciative growl, but the matching thong stopped him cold.

“Were you wearing that thong under your dress when we went to dinner with the Hauptmanns?”

“Yes.”

“And you slept it in last night?”

“Since I couldn’t get back in my room, I didn’t have anything else to sleep in.”

“Good thing I didn’t know that,” he said, his voice rough, “or you wouldn’t have made it out of bed this morning.”

That drew a husky laugh from Devon. She wasn’t any more immune to flattery than the next girl, and the expression in Cal’s eyes as they devoured her nearly naked flesh was extremely gratifying. It almost made up for the goose bumps popping out all over her skin.

Her ensuing shiver could have been caused by the cold air. Or the liquid fire that spread through her when he got rid of his own ski pants and long johns. Or the erection that pushed against the front of his shorts.

Her groan of dismay, however, was most definitely due to the latter. Cal’s startled look prompted another groan from her, this one of embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean…It’s not you…Well, it is but…” As flustered now as she was aroused, she blurted out the problem. “Oh, hell! I don’t have a condom. I hope you do.”

“No, I don’t.” His lips twisted in a rueful grin. “I don’t usually pack a supply for short business trips.”

Unlike her ex, Devon couldn’t help remembering. Blake had never left home without an emergency stash.

“I could make a quick trip down to the lobby,” Cal commented. “Or…”

“Or what?”

The wicked glint returned. “We could improvise.”

Devon’s pulse stuttered and skipped. Oooh, boy! She was asking for trouble if the mere thought of taking him in her mouth could turn her on and her common sense off.

“You want to improvise first?” Her voice husky, she rose up on her knees and pressed her palm against his rock-hard erection. “Or shall I?”

His breath hissed out. That was all the answer she needed.

“Me,” she murmured, sliding her hand inside his shorts. “I’ll go first.”

With a small grunt, he reached for the blanket, whipped it around them both and followed her back down onto the sofa cushions.

They were cocooned in darkness and a heat fueled by desire. Devon used her hands and teeth and tongue, licking him, teasing him, driving him almost to the brink.

His salty taste was on her lips when she felt his body go taut. The engorged shaft in her hand seemed to pulse and swell even more. She bent her head, intending to finish what she’d started. Cal stopped her by the simple expedient of pulling free of her hold.

“Not yet,” he rasped. “Not until I have my turn.”

With the blanket still tented around them, he rolled her onto her back and inched downward. Slowly. As Devon had moments ago—or was it hours?—he used his hand and teeth and tongue on her eager flesh. Her nipples ached when he finished with them. Her belly quivered under his nipping kisses.

Then he spread her legs and found her hot, wet center. Once again he moved slowly. So slowly. His tongue rasped her sensitive flesh. His fingers worked sensual magic. Soon waves of exquisite sensation streaked through every part of Devon’s body.

She could feel the climax coming. She tried to delay it, fought to contain the spiraling tension. She might as well have tried to contain the snow and sleet that had stranded them. Despite her determined efforts, her vaginal muscles coiled tight, then tighter still. Her head went back. A groan ripped from far back in her throat. Giving up the fight, she rode the burst of blinding pleasure.

For the second day in a row, Devon woke to dazzling sunlight. Only this time she wasn’t lying in a bed topped by a majestic crown. Nor was she swathed like a mummy in a warm, insulating duvet. This time the warmth emanated from the very large, very heavy body squashing her against sofa cushions.

She lay on her side, she discovered when her sleepy haze cleared. Her back was tucked against Cal’s front, with her knees bent and her bottom cradled on his thighs. Sometime during the night they’d both dragged on their thermal silk long johns. After her second earth-shattering orgasm, Devon thought lazily. As memories of the night just past came rushing back, her mouth curved into a smile. The little huff that escaped her lips was part sigh, part mewl of remembered pleasure.

As soft as it was, the sound produced a rumble in the solid wall of chest pressed against her back.

“’Bout time you woke up, Cinderella.”

The blanket covering them rustled. Calloused fingertips brushed the tangled hair from Devon’s cheek. Prickly whiskers rasped against her cheek as Cal scrunched around to nibble on her earlobe.

“Or was it that Snow White chick who slept for a thousand years?” he muttered between bites.

Laughing, she hunched a shoulder against the invasion of his hot, damp breath in her ear. “Someone with nine nieces and nephews should know that was Princess Aurora, aka Sleeping Beauty. And it was a hundred years, not a thousand.”

“Yeah, well, Disney lost me after I had to watch a talking teapot and candlestick do their thing a half-dozen times one long, agonizing weekend.”

With a final nibble, he disengaged and departed the sofa. A blast of cold air hit Devon’s fanny before he tucked the blanket around her again. Only then did it register that the hotel’s electricity must still be out.

“I waited for you to wake up before mounting a scouting expedition,” Cal said. “Stay here and keep warm. I’ll go downstairs and see if I can scrounge up some hot coffee or chocolate.”

She rolled over and watched while he gathered his ski jacket, pants and boots. His cream-colored silk long Johns fit him like a second skin, which made the watching a delight. As Devon’s gaze roamed his broad, tapered back and trim backside, her delight ripened to a feeling of intense, almost physical, pleasure.

The front view was even more arousing. The cool, in-command executive looked more like a rough-and-tumble hockey player. His short black hair stood up in spikes. The whiskers that had rasped Devon’s skin showed dark against his cheeks and chin. The spandex ski pants molded his muscular thighs, while the half-zipped jacket showed the strong column of his throat.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’ll be right back.”

She fully intended to follow his instructions and remain huddled under the blanket until he returned. Unfortunately, the bathroom beckoned with increasing urgency. Dreading the prospect of another session on the icy toilet seat, Devon held off as long as she could. Nature finally conquered the cold. Shivering, she shoved her feet into her boots and dragged on her ski jacket, then sprinted for the bathroom.

When she went to wash her hands and face, the woman looking back at her from mirror gave a small shriek. Her hair was a bird’s nest of dark, tangled red. Her face was devoid of all color. Except, she noted ruefully, for the whisker burn on the side of her chin. She leaned forward and fingered the tiny abrasion, then dismissed it with a shrug.

What the heck. It was small enough price to pay for the mind-bending pleasure Cal had given her last night.

See, her alter ego smirked. What did I tell you? Is the man hung, or what?

“No arguments there,” Devon muttered.