A Billionaire for Christmas by Maggie Marr

Author:Maggie Marr [Marr, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC027020 FICTION / Romance / Contemporary; FIC044000 FICTION / Contemporary Women
Publisher: NLA Digital LLC
Published: 2015-11-13T05:00:00+00:00

*

The lights of the Christmas tree blinked in the darkness. Cool air caressed Anthony’s bare chest. Shelly lay curled beside him, both of them pressed together on the couch. He reached up and pulled the afghan from the back of the couch over them both. The flashing lights reflected against her porcelain skin.

He’d wanted her. Wanted to take her right here, on this couch, where as teenagers they’d spent countless nights in each other’s arms. But after she’d come, he’d seen tears glistening on her cheeks. Tears he’d kissed away. Shelly hadn’t met his gaze, but instead curled into his arms, and he’d pulled her close to protect her, to keep out the world and whatever made her cry. Now the hour was late, the house was cold, and Shelly still slept in his arms.

There was time. A few hours of time, at least, before the sun crept over the horizon and he needed to wake Shelly to send her upstairs to her room. Mrs. Bello would rise with the sun, and she’d be okay with finding Anthony asleep on the couch, as long as Shelly wasn’t lying beside him. Hell, at their age, and with everything that had happened, she’d probably be okay to find Shelly beside him, possibly thrilled. But he wouldn’t do that to Mrs. Bello, not in her own home. Not when confusion and tough memories already fringed the edges of his relationship with Shelly. He pulled her closer and tucked the blanket around her naked body.

Beauty. Pure beauty. Her face like cut marble, she looked like a statue that belonged in the Louvre. Her high cheekbones and a patrician nose, rosebud lips slightly parted as she slept. Peace. Her face held a peace in sleep that he’d yet to see when she was awake.

He pressed his lips to her forehead. He hadn’t felt this present, this whole, this content since the last time he’d held Shelly in his arms. The night before she’d left, actually, in this very house, on this very couch. Damn, he hadn’t recalled that memory in years. The night of Vinnie’s funeral they’d lain in this very spot, his arms holding her close while she cried into his chest.

He’d thought then he was doing the right thing, saying the right things. He’d thought in that moment that his arms, their future, their love would be enough, and that together they’d get through that awful time after Vinnie’s death. Hard? Hell, yes. Hard as hell. Vinnie had been his best friend and Shelly’s brother. Back then the only reason they hadn’t gotten married yet was because they were waiting for Vinnie to come home.

And then he had come home. In a wooden box.

Anthony rolled his gaze upward to stare at the ceiling. The blinking Christmas lights splashed color on the textured surface. What the hell had happened? Why had Shelly left? How had he failed her? That night, that fucking night after the funeral, had been devastating, but they had each other. They held each other, they cried, but they were alive together.

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