Page 5 of The Billionaire's Naughty List

Gently, he sets me on my feet beneath one of the two rain showerheads. He doesn’t step away, not even letting my full weight down onto the charcoal grey tile. My fingers cling to what they can–a forearm and an awkward grip on his thigh.

Water showers over us, getting him just as wet.

“I had to park on the road,” he says, voice rough.

There’s a tiny but accusatory note lingering beneath his words. Big, bad, billionaire has gotten used to the finer things in life. Seattle is hundreds of miles away from the farm where he grew up shadowing my dad, and it’s leaps and bounds more polished. About the most rustic thing in the big city are the puddles when it rains.

“I’ll have it cleared in the morning, but there’s no way to—” He bites off the rest of the sentence, however I know what he was going to say.

Even through my partially frozen brain, I get it. The cabin is nestled in the mountains surrounding Love Valley. And with a fresh layer of snow and more on the way, we’re as good as stranded up here.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.”

I hope I got some usable shots before I took my ice bath. My dress is almost surely ruined now.

“You’re not fine. You’re a human popsicle.” His words have more bite than I’m used to.

He didn’t freak out this much when I told him I wanted to get a tattoo and I was going with or without him. He’d mumbled about how my dad was going to kill him, but he wasn’t about to let me go to some seedy tattoo parlor by myself.

Joke was on him. I went to a beautiful, upscale shop owned and operated by a woman who only inks women.

He looked like a broody viking amongst all the pink, but I give him credit because he stuck it out.

It took dear-old-dad two years to notice said tattoo across the top of my foot. Unlike Elliot, he's not terribly detail-oriented unless it deals with the ranch.

Elliot rubs his hands up and down my arms, lighting a fire in my veins. "Are you warming up?"

I can't bring myself to tell him that's an understatement.

Bending his knees, he ducks down, looking at me closely. Those gray-green eyes steal my breath. I ache to run my fingers through his dark hair. It looks like he's already done so multiple times today.

How many times have I imagined climbing him like a tree, kissing that wide mouth, rubbing my cheek against his stubble?

A shiver quakes through my belly as he awaits an answer. He's persistent, I'll give him that. "It's better," I say.

"Your skin isn't as pale."

"Elliot…"

His big hands freeze on my shoulders. My stomach tingles and all the emotion that I pushed down deep swells up in my chest, threatening to burst out. I blink away frustrated tears and try to take a step back, but he holds me still.

"Stop. We've got to warm you up."

"I'm perfectly capable?—"

"Really? Because I found you standing in subfreezing weather, ankle deep in snow in this scrap of—" He lets the words hang between us unspoken as he nods to my soaked dress.

I can't exactly argue with that, which is extra frustrating because he makes me sound reckless. And I'll admit to being an idiot where he's concerned, but not about my own safety.

"Honestly, I was fine until I fell into the lake." I remember his shocked expression and can't help but giggle again.

"What the hell were you doing out there in the cold? Tell me the truth." There's something about the way he says those words that makes my spidey senses tingle. Like he knows something, and he wants it confirmed.

But there's no way for him to know that I'm on OnlySantas, so what is it he thinks he knows?

Licking my lips, I shrug out of his coat and shove it against his chest. "I've warmed up, thank you."

He tosses it out the open door, then strips off his sweater and sends that sailing, too. I get a little pang in my stomach because his button-up shirt is plastered to his chest and I can't help but want to feel all that muscle against me.

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