The Grumpy Billionaire Who Stole Christmas Read Online Lili Valente

Categories Genre: Billionaire, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
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Then Luke is back to kissing me and I lose the capacity for rational—or irrational—thought.

Snaking my arms around his neck I lean into the kiss, giving him every little ounce of holiday cheer I can muster. Luke’s hand has returned to my breast and somehow, he’s managed to maneuver inside the fabric to lightly cup the tender flesh, his thumb rolling over my nipple.

As a curvy woman, I’ve invested a lot of hard-earned pet portrait money in quality and supportive bras, but Luke can take this one and fling it on the town square tree along with Captain Herbert’s peg leg, for all I care. I want it gone. Now.

“Take my bra off,” I say, or more accurately, beg.

Luke doesn’t hesitate. He grips the shoulders of my costume and starts to peel them down. “Lift up.”

I comply, wiggling a little to help him.

He groans. “Holly. Your body…”

“Is a wonderland?”

“Accurate. Very accurate.”

He gets the sleeves off and pushes the fabric down around my waist. I’m on one elbow so he readily slips a hand under my back and pops the hook on my bra.

“How can you even see me?” I ask. I can make out his outline, but not much more.

“Maybe I’m part raccoon.”

He eases the straps down my arms and cool air hits my bare breasts. A beat later, the bra goes sailing off into the night to join the curiosities of Jingle Bell Junction’s town museum. I might even put it in a glass case later to commemorate the night Holly Jo Hadley got naked with Luke Lawrence Ratcliffe.

Surely, that’s more epic than a safety pin collection.

“I see everything I’ve ever wanted,” Luke says, before lowering his head and pulling my nipple into his mouth.

That sounded unexpectedly romantic and for once, I have no words.

Heat is coiling in my inner thighs as he settles over me. His tongue swirls against my nipple, doing delicious things to my insides. I bite my lip and run my hands over his back. I can’t feel his skin through his shirt, so I yank it out of his pants and find a passage under the fabric. He feels as amazing and muscular as he looks.

I lightly scratch my nails across his warm flesh, testing his response. He groans in approval.

“Diabolical, as stated previously,” he murmurs. “So cute, but so dangerous, that’s just you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as one.” He cups my breast, his thumb circling over my taut nipple.

The motion is distracting, making it hard to concentrate. Luke’s nibbling on my earlobe now, while he teases at my nipple.

“You, on the other hand, are not what I would call cute,” I say. “You’re classically handsome, with a dash of faux grumpiness.”

“I assure you the grumpiness is real.”

I laugh softly. “Keep telling yourself that, but I’m not buying it, mister.” I think it’s a defense mechanism, not Luke’s true character.

“The only thing I’m discussing with myself right now is how to get the rest of this costume off of you as quickly as possible.” His hand skims across my hip as he peels back the fabric and slips inside my panties.

I gasp at the heavy heat of his hand cupping my sex. “What were we talking about?”

“Costume removal.”

Luke strokes over my sensitive flesh.

I know he’s effectively changing the subject. I’ll allow it. Because, he has his finger and his mouth working in tandem. He’s kissing me into oblivion at the same time he’s quickly guiding me toward an orgasm and that feels infinitely more important than forcing a confession from him that he’s no ogre. Or Grinch or Scrooge.

He finds a spot that nearly has me leaping out of my skin.

Nope. Not important to convince him of anything other than that we need to get all of these clothes off immediately.

Breaking from the kiss, I shove the costume down over my hips and attack the buttons on his shirt. “You’re overdressed. Why are you wearing a suit anyway?”

“I came directly from a meeting in the city.”

He assists me in peeling his shirt down his arms and dragging his undershirt off over his head. I feel my way across the landscape of his chest and abs as he undoes his belt. The sound of the clinking as he unhooks it makes me shiver in anticipation.

“Are you cold?” he asks. “Sit up.”

I obey and he slides his jacket underneath me, between my skin and the cool mat.

“This should help.” He looks at me in a way I can only interpret as tender, making me very glad my eyes are finally adjusting to the darkness.

“Thank you, kind sir,” I whisper. “And I’m on birth control, by the way, so we’re covered.”

“Good to know,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I’m feeling things I can’t control—warm, squishy emotions, capped off with a dash of optimism.


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