Page 27 of A Billion-Dollar Heir For Christmas

“Did theylikeeach other?” Lillie asked, throwing her hands wide.

“Do yours?” And it was exactly the sort of ill-measured, ill-considered retort that he knew better than to make. What was it that this woman did to him?

She crossed her arms then and tipped up her chin, glowering at him as if this was some kind of altercation. When Tiago did not have altercations. “They do all of those things. My parents met when they were children. They grew up in the same village. They were each other’s first...everything. They’ve been wildly in love with each other and the very best of friends as long as either one of them can remember.”

Tiago could not have said why he felt so...unnerved by this revelation. And almost embarrassed, as if this was not the sort of thing that ought to be discussed in polite company.

“That’s very nice for them, I’m sure.”

“It’s not always nice at all,” Lillie shot back. “They love me, don’t get me wrong, but they love each other more. Sometimes, growing up, I felt a bit like a third wheel. I always suspected the real reason they didn’t have more children is because they preferred not to divert much more of their attention from each other. And then there was the impossibility of living up to a love like that. I suspect that half the reason I felt so wrecked by my university boyfriend’s behavior was that I had to tell my parents that I wasn’t like them after all.”

“My parents never pretended to be in love,” Tiago said, and he could not understand why he felt on the defensive. “They would have been horrified if anyone suggested that they should succumb to such mawkishness.”

And he had closed the distance between them again, when he knew better. When he knew, in fact, that it was the last thing he should allow. Yet there he was, so close that if he’d wanted, he could have reached out and touched her—but he didn’t.

Lillie’s eyes were too big, too blue. “That’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard.”

“You don’t understand.” He wanted to rake his hands through his hair, but he did notfidgetlike a child. Tiago blew out a breath. “That’s my fault, not yours. I clearly have not adequately explained to you the weight of the responsibilities that both of my parents carried, and that you and I must carry as well. There is no space for any of these things that you’ve been talking about here. There is only duty. Responsibility. And the contentment that those things can bring.”

“That,” Lillie said, very distinctly, with what could only be called the light of battle in her blue eyes, “sounds like a terribly sad life, Tiago.”

He leaned closer, just slightly. Just to make his point. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What I know is that what you’re describing sounds like a long, slow, frigid death,” she shot back, something like passion—or fear—in her voice. He didn’t like either. “I want no part of that. I’ve been close enough to it myself and I don’t want to go back. I don’t want all that numbness and banging on aboutresponsibilities. Responsibilities are there no matter what, aren’t they? I want to feelalive.”

And then, as if that wasn’t outrageous enough, she closed the distance between them, shot up on her toes, and kissed him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LILLIEWISHEDSHE’Dthought to kiss him sooner, rather than daintily waiting forhimto kissher.

That was the only thought that worked its way through her as she stood there, her mouth on his at last, no longer quite so concerned with boredom. Or purpose. Or long, slow slides into a walking death, all in the name of the family honor. Whateverthatwas when it was at home.

Thishad been the answer all along.

Thiswas what she should have done the moment she’d walked into his office, to remind them both that this lightning bolt was what had brought them together and everything else was secondary to that.

Thisfelt as right tonight as it had that night in Spain.

And what she felt, first and foremost, was relief.

He was stillhim. They were stillthem.

This was still real.

So she just kept right on kissing him.

Lillie kissed him until he made a low sound, like a growl, in the back of his throat. She kissed him until his hands came to her face, then traveled over the rest of her. He trailed fire and need down her back, her upper thighs. He found her breasts, moved over her belly, and then his palms gripped her bottom.

And still the kiss went on and on.

Though there was nothing the slightest bitfrigidabout it.

“What are you doing to me?” he grated out, tearing his lips from hers for the barest second.

“Doing something,” she whispered back, “about this terrible boredom.”

And then she laughed, because he swept her up into his arms. It shouldn’t have worked. He should have staggered under the weight of her, because she was big and round these days and she had never been an airy little thing in the first place.

---