White Hot Holidays 2: Wish List
Sylvia Day
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Wish List
ISBN # 1-4199-0446-9
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Wish List Copyright© 2005 Sylvia Day
Edited by Briana St. James.
Cover design by Syneca. Photography by Dennis Roliff.
Electronic book Publication: December 2005
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Warning:
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Wish List has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).
S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.
E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.
X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.
WISH LIST
Sylvia Day
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Grand Cherokee: DaimlerChrysler Corporation
BlackBerry: Research in Motion
Dedication
To Raelene Gorlinsky, for giving me the opportunity to write a Christmas story. It was very high up on my list of story themes I wanted to write. And to fellow Brava author and lawyer, HelenKay Dimon, who very helpfully answered my questions about law firms. All factual errors are mine alone.
Chapter One
Nicholas James, the hottest man on the planet, was bare-assed naked with a bow covering his cock.
Steph gaped. And not just any kind of gape, but a “bug-eyed, mouth hanging open to catch flies” kind of gape. Before she could even think twice, she flipped up the red bow and then drooled at what was under it. Oh. My. God.
“Jesus, Steph,” muttered her paralegal Elaine, bringing her sharply back to the festive conference room and the sounds of Frank Sinatra singing holiday songs. “Your Secret Santa gift can’t be that bad. Let me see it.” She held out her hand and beckoned with her fingers, showing off long acrylic nails with airbrushed snowmen.
Hugging the silver foil box to her chest, Steph thrust over the restaurant gift certificate that had concealed the photo beneath—the photo with the clever little bow strategically glued with just enough hinge to afford her an eyeful.
“Ooohhh, nice. I love Dominico’s.” Elaine’s red painted mouth curved in a smile. “You should take me. All of my dates are too cheap to go there.”
“Uh.” Turning her head, Steph searched the crowded conference room for the naked man of her dreams. Of course, Nicholas wasn’t naked right now. Not at the Mitchell, Jones, and Cline annual Christmas party. No, right now he was wearing beautifully tailored slacks in dark blue, a crisp white shirt with blue tie and white silk vest. She loved that he wore three-piece suits. Somehow, the urbanity of his clothing only served to accentuate the raw masculine power of his body. He was single and gorgeous, and like most single and gorgeous men, he led an active lifestyle which kept him in fine shape.
Just the sort of man most women were wildly attracted to. She, however, avoided him like the plague. She’d learned her lesson the first time.
Her breath caught.
There he was. By the door.
You could hardly miss him. Not when he was so tall and broad shouldered. His dark hair gleamed under the glow of blinking strings of Christmas lights as he leaned his lanky frame casually against the doorjamb. He was staring at her with a wicked half smile.
Then he winked.
Realization hit her hard and made her gasp.
Somehow, he’d found her wish list. The fantasy one. The silly stupid naughty wish list.
Oh. My. God!
* * * * *
Nick knew the exact moment Steph caught on. The flush spread up from the low V of her teal silk blouse and then colored her cheeks.
Finally! After almost a year of flirting that got him nothing more than the occasional inconvenient hard-on, he was getting what he really wanted for Christmas—the opportunity to prove he was the man for her. He wished he could say it was his charm that won Stephanie over, but that wasn’t the case. No, he’d had to wait for fate to step in and slip her name into his hand for their law firm’s annual Secret Santa draw. He’d opened up the folded slip of paper, saw Stephanie Martin and grinned like an idiot.
For about one second.
Then he’d realized he’d have to come up with not only a great gift, but a great gift she’d have to share with him, and not one of the other drooling Lotharios around their firm. He’d walked through endless crowded malls, surfed a hundred online shopping sites, grilled every one of his ex-girlfriends and female relatives—all to no avail. They couldn’t understand why he didn’t just ask Stephanie out, instead of trying to plan something elaborate to make his point.
The answer was really very simple. He had a reputation as a ladies’ man. She’d heard about it and didn’t want anything to do with him because of it. So straight up asking for a date wouldn’t work. He had to show her he was serious first.
Steph’s reticence wasn’t a new experience for Nick. Most of the women who were strictly platonic friends were ones who’d made it clear they were looking for Mr. Right. Not Mr. Right Now. Starting in high school, Nick had learned how to give the “not going to settle down” vibe pretty well. Not that he didn’t have committed relationships. He did. They just weren’t the forever kind of commitment.
So he’d tried to respect Steph’s obvious non-interest, but the gnawing craving in his gut wouldn’t go away. He wanted her—wanted that long dark hair wrapped around his fist, wanted those dark brown eyes burning with lust, wanted that lushly curved body out of the business suits and arching naked beneath him. And even though he knew it was never going to happen, Nick couldn’t stop dreaming about it.
Steph was gorgeous, beautifully built, confident and intelligent. She knew her assets and showed them off. She also knew her worth and wanted a man who did. What had she said to him once?
Any man who has one foot planted firmly outside the door never really comes in.
But he wasn’t a fly-by-night kind of boyfriend. He took damn good care of the women he dated. He paid attention to what they liked and didn’t like. It wasn’t so hard. It just took a little effort, and Nick enjoyed making that effort. Enjoyed watching their surprise when he remembered their favorite author, favorite song, favorite places to be touched and caressed. Because of this, most of his exes were still his friends.
“You’re staring,” teased a soft voice beside him.
He tore his gaze away from Steph’s wide eyes to
look at the woman next to him.
“Looks like she liked your gift,” Amanda said with a fond smile. “Why didn’t I ever get naked pics of you when we were dating?”
“You never asked.”
Stephanie hadn’t either, at least not in the verbal sense. He’d been staying late one night working on his billable hours. The goal was twofold—to get a decent cushion for the holiday time off work and also to forget about how he couldn’t find a damn thing to give Steph that would get his foot in her door. The ploy wasn’t working, so he’d stood and began to pace the hall that formed a ring around the center receptionist’s desk and elevators.
That was when it caught his eye. The small, crumpled ball of paper missed or dropped by the nighttime cleaning crew. It was wedged next to the polished wood leg of their waiting room sofa. He’d picked it up with the intention of tossing it when a bit of red and green caught his eye. Steph had been using a cute little stocking-shaped notepad ever since the first of the month. Christmas was obviously one of her favorite holidays, if the tiny decorated tree on her desk was any indication. He knew instantly the festive bit of trash had once belonged to her, and it took on new meaning just because of that.
So feeling a bit guilty but unable to help himself, Nick opened the bit of trash…
And he’d been thanking his lucky stars ever since.
At the top of the striped paper were the words Wish List printed in a font designed to resemble a child’s scrawl. Below that were the beautifully formed letters he recognized as Steph’s handwriting.
Mom – new bread maker
Dad – deep sea fishing
Sam – gift card
And then she’d run a slash through that list and begun a new one.
My Wish List – (naughty)
Nicholas James naked and wrapped in a bow.
Nick kissing me senseless.
Nick cooking me dinner naked. (so I can stare at his ass)
Going down on Nick. (yum)
Nick going down on me. (double yum)
Fucking Nick until he can’t walk. (OMG!)
The shock of that list had hit him so hard he’d stumbled into the nearby couch. He’d understood then that Stephanie had been fooling him the whole time, just like she would a jury. Acting unaffected when she was really as hot for him as he was for her. No woman had such detailed sexual thoughts about a guy she wasn’t totally into. She’d obviously been thinking about him for awhile.
Images inspired by her words filled his mind. His cock swelled and he wondered how he’d make it back to his office, let alone the parking garage eighteen floors below.
He needn’t have worried. Her next shakily written line took all the heat out of him and left him cold.
My Wish List – (good)
Forget about Nicholas James or transfer.
In that moment he’d discovered two things. One—no matter how much she wanted his body, she still didn’t want anything to do with him. To the point where she was considering transferring to their firm’s other office across town.
Two—the thought of not seeing her nearly every day struck him like a physical blow. Too painful for his interest to be merely casual. He’d realized then what the tight knot in his gut was trying to tell him.
Somewhere along the way, the purely sexual desire he had for her had become something more. Maybe it’d happened when they’d worked that last case together and she kept blowing his mind with her brains. Or maybe it was when she’d cried over a verdict and hadn’t tried to hide it from him. Whatever it was, he’d be damned if his past got in the way of what they both wanted.
This Christmas, not so saintly Nick was making sure all of Stephanie Martin’s wishes came true.
Chapter Two
Steph left the conference room party the moment Nick’s attention was drawn away. She had the next two weeks off. If she could just slip out of the office, she could get out of this mortifying situation.
She’d had a feeling when she threw out that stupid scrap of paper that she should rip it up first. Or burn it. But then she’d told herself she was just being paranoid. The damn thing was in the trash. Who was going to see it? Certainly not Nick. He didn’t dig in trashcans. Or so she’d thought.
As her temper rose, her step quickened and she reached her office in record time. This was ridiculous. Those were private scribblings made during an especially boring meeting. She hadn’t been able to concentrate with Nick sitting across from her and looking as impossibly gorgeous as ever. Instead, she’d been totally absorbed in staring at the small part of his wrist visible at the edge of his cuff—hair-dusted dark skin next to the gold of his watchband and the white of his shirt. That little flash of nothing had made her hot and damp between the thighs.
There was just something about Nicholas James. Maybe it was the dangerous beauty of his face. Or that tall, well-honed body. Perhaps it was his amazing intelligence and aggressive stance in the courtroom. Or maybe it was his pro bono work for the Abused Women’s Program… Shit, she didn’t know why. She just knew his track record with women was bad news and she’d already had enough bad news to last a lifetime.
She growled. That damn list had been a form of purging therapy. None of it was ever meant literally. Still, as she shoved documents into her briefcase, she grabbed the silver box with the X-rated photo of Nick and shoved it in too.
“Merry Christmas to me,” she muttered.
“I’m just getting started,” purred a deep voice in her ear. The delicious sound hit the top of her spine and then curled all the way down.
Mouth open to protest, she spun to face her tormentor.
And found herself hauled up against a rock-hard body and kissed senseless.
Taken completely off guard, by the time her addled brain figured out who was accosting her and what he was doing, she didn’t want him to stop. As her senses filled with the scent of aroused male, the hands pushing against Nick’s shoulders slipped around them instead.
God, he was good. Equal parts demanding and tender. His lips were warm, the inside of his mouth soft. His hands slipped between her jacket and blouse, splaying on either side of her spine and pulling her closer. When his touch slipped lower to cup her ass, heat flared outward and flushed her skin.
“Don’t,” she whispered against his mouth.
Groaning softly in answer, Nick tilted his head and deepened his already drowning kiss. He tugged, stealing her balance so that she tumbled into him. Taking the advantage, he lifted her and sat her on the desk, wedging his lean hips intimately between her thighs. Instantly the throbbing that had begun the minute he touched her turned into an all-consuming ache. “Nick…”
His damp forehead rested against hers, his panting breaths hot against her swollen lips. “Let me give you what you want for Christmas, Steph.”
“I don’t want you.”
“Liar.” His hand came up and cupped her breast. Expert fingertips found the hardened nipple that betrayed her. Kissing his way to her ear, he whispered, “I bet you’re creamy for me.”
“Jesus, Nick!” She shivered but couldn’t deny it.
“I locked the door…”
“Are you crazy?” she shot back, pushing his wandering hand away.
Nick caught her hips, pulled her to the edge of the desk and fit the hard length of his cock directly against her pussy.
“Yes.” He moved his hips, nudging her clit through the soft fabric of their dress pants. She whimpered.
“Don’t you know how crazy I am about you?”
“You’re crazy about all women.”
“No,” he argued, thrusting against her with greater urgency. “I like women. I’m crazy about you.”
The sweet friction of his dry fucking made her cunt spasm with need. With her heart racing and her breathing labored, she pushed at him weakly. “Stop that… I can’t think…”
“You think too much.” He held her in place as he rubbed his cock against her. She hadn’t bothered with the lights when she’d ente
red, since moonlight lit the room through the floor-to-ceiling window. But even in the semi-dark, his eyes burned with a hunger that made her throat tight. Holding her still, he stroked the impressive length of his cock up and down her slit. He was so gorgeous, so determined, just watching him pleasuring them both was nearly orgasmic by itself. “I want you, Steph. I’ve wanted you a long time. And you want me too.”
On the verge of coming, Steph set her hands on the desk and swiveled her hips into that large straining bulge, stroking him with her pussy. Nick’s raw, pained moan was the impetus that pushed her over. Crying out, she rode the waves of pleasure that spread through her veins and made her dizzy.
“That’s it,” he praised hoarsely, rocking into her, making it last. “Ah, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful.”
She sagged into his chest as the tension fled. With her hot face pressed against his throat, the scent of his skin was nearly overwhelming. “Oh my God,” she groaned, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her whole. The last thing Nick’s ego needed was her hair-trigger orgasm.
“It’s been awhile for you, hasn’t it?” His large hands stroked the length of her back, gentling her.
“You’re not going to take credit for that?” She couldn’t hide her surprise.
“Me?” He pulled back slightly. “I wish. That was all you. But the next one’s on me.”
A laugh escaped against her will and she buried her face in his shoulder to hide her smile. He was charming, she’d never denied that. “There’s not going to be a next time.”
His embrace was nearly crushing. “Whatever. You really had me fooled. Until I saw that wish list, I thought you didn’t like me.”
“It’s not about whether I like you or not, Nick. In fact, I think you’re a great guy, but—”
