The Perfect Gift: A Christmas Billionaire Sexy Romance (Three Wise Men Book 1) by Serenity Woods

Author:Serenity Woods [Woods, Serenity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-11-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

When Brock awoke, the sky was growing light in the east, and he knew without having to check his phone that it was around his normal rising time of five thirty. Old habits die hard, he thought, even when he’d drunk more than he should have. His head was muzzy, his mouth dry.

The room was large enough not to be stuffy, but even so he felt hot and sticky beneath the sheet, only realizing as he went to roll over and found he couldn’t that it was because he had a soft, curvy woman pinned against him.

Erin.

Everything came rushing back—the lovely evening they’d spent together, the way he’d agonized for ages over whether to knock on her door, the tiny red bikini that had driven him insane, and the long, luxurious sex session they’d had in the tub.

Wow.

He shifted onto his back. Erin stirred but didn’t move away, still draped over him, her breasts soft pillows against his ribcage, her thigh silkily smooth against his. He smiled in the semi-darkness. Although Fleur had been affectionate, in bed she hadn’t been a snuggler, and more often than not he’d woken to find her on her side facing away from him, so it was nice to be with a woman who felt the same way.

A sudden wave of disloyalty washed over him, unexpected and intense, taking his breath away. He stared up at the canopy above their heads and then gently disengaged himself from Erin’s grip. She still didn’t wake, so he rose from the bed. After briefly visiting the bathroom, he padded over to the kitchen.

He took a small bottle of water from the fridge, walked to the sliding doors, and opened them to let in the early morning air. Leaning against the doorjamb, he drank half the bottle of water in one go, then lowered it with a sigh and wiped his mouth.

Down on the beach, the first rays of the sun were falling on the red flowers of the pohutukawa trees. Fleur had loved them, and they’d planted a few in their garden, although she’d not lived long enough to see them flower.

His throat tightened. It had been two years, and losing her still hurt. He leaned his head against the wood. Last night he’d finally betrayed her, the execution made easier through loneliness and Lagavulin.

Then he frowned. No, that wasn’t fair, and it was doing Erin a disservice. He hadn’t slept with her just because he was lonely and drunk. Until last night, although he’d missed Fleur, he hadn’t been tempted to move on at all, in spite of Charlie and Matt’s attempts to help.

It had been Erin who’d resurrected his dead heart, who’d shone bright enough to dispel the shadows he’d inhabited for so long. He’d wanted to be with her, to watch her laugh, to listen to her infectious giggle. She’d entranced him with her red bikini, the way she’d clipped up her hair, with her sheer wonder at the hotel and the sumptuous dinner,

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