Page 69 of A Very Naughty Christmas

“Dixie!” His voice dropped to a low rumble as he demanded the truth.

“I did. I’m sorry. But I called and called and always got your service.”

“And I called your phone and got nothing. That doesn’t mean I thought you ended things.”

He was right, and the lack of phone access was as much her fault. More so, since she was in North Carolina, not an entirely different country. “I ran out of minutes.”

“So even though your phone was out of commission, you assumed I’d dumped you?”

“I know. I’m awful.”

“No, you’re not, but you do have trust issues. We’ll begin working on overcoming those tonight.”

She didn’t respond, not asking how that would be accomplished, but having a pretty good idea. Instead, she changed the subject as she caught a glimpse of her watch. He was supposed to be at her apartment in thirty minutes and take her to dinner.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I’m taxiing to the airport terminal as we speak.”

“You’re calling from the plane?”

“It’s a private jet, so that’s allowed. I’m sorry, darlin’, but I’m running way late. I’ll have to meet you at the Biltmore. I still need to shower, shave off this seven-day beard, and get into my tux. I’m sending a car for you.”

“You’ve got a beard?” she whispered, picturing what that was like.

He chuckled, his irritation evaporating. “Baby, focus.”

It was hard. Kyle with a beard sounded hot.

“I’ll meet you at the venue at six o’clock.”

Imagining walking in all alone made her forget everything else, and a wave of alarm made her belly quiver.

“You still there, Dix?”

“You won’t be late, will you?”

“Now that I’m on US soil once more, I’m bound and determined to see you. That I can’t kiss, hold, and make love to you before we go to the gala is disappointing. As is the fact that I can’t give you the spanking I owe you—”

She wasn’t sure what, of all that he said, caused the panic to morph into arousal. Maybe it was the promised kisses, or the spanking, or simply that she was going to see him for the first time in over a week, but it sent a current of longing straight to her nipples and clit. He said something else that she couldn’t make out over the loud thudding of her heart in her ears.

“Dixie?”

“Hm?”

“Are you with me?”

“Sorry. I missed you, Kyle, a lot.”

“Me too, darlin’, but I’ll see you very soon; at six sharp.” Then the call disconnected.

Her trembling hands made it hard to apply mascara and do her smoky shadow. Nothing was easy while intensely aroused or when her brain kept replaying the deep mellow timbre of his voice, and the images his words had inspired. His lips claiming hers, or her breasts, hungrily sucking and nibbling on her nipples, and of his face between her thighs as he brought her to a toe-curling climax. With all of that swirling in her head, it was hard to think, let alone function, especially when her thoughts turned to being ass up over his lap as he lectured her on trust, his hard hand making her bottom hot and tingly.

Heaving a sigh, she resigned herself to the inevitable and went to her room to change her wet panties.

An hour and a half later, she handed her Michael Kors black wool ruana to the coat check girl. It was a prize she’d found at The Attic, the consignment shop in town, and the only thing she could think of that was warm and not tacky to go with her designer gown and five hundred dollar shoes—Jan had priced them online.

She wore her hair up in a jeweled clasp—fake, of course—letting it falling in soft waves from her crown down her back. The only real jewelry was the diamond teardrop earrings that her dear friend had made a special trip by the diner to loan her for the night.Such a lovely old southern lady.

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