Holidays with the Billionaire

Chapter 18

Adlee

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P leased to see Kelton spent the night in my bed, I gaze over his tanned, toned chest that boasts a little bit of light hair. He has one arm over his head, and a little bit of his light-brown hair has fallen over his brow. My gaze travels the length of his body to where the white sheet covers his cock, only giving me a peek of the happy trail of hair from his bellybutton leading there. I want to reach under and stroke his dick, as I can tell its semi-hard. Instead, I grin and turn over to check the time on my phone. It’s not even 8 a.m. I scroll through the calendar and see there is one meeting today, this morning actually, and then nothing for the rest of the day. If he thinks I’m going to go skiing or whatever other ridiculous sport he likes, he has another thing coming. I’ll have to seduce him instead, make him want me instead of a bunch of cold, powdery snow.

Then, I think back to that Jet guy. Kelton tried to hide it, but I could tell the mention of Jet’s name had got to him. Jet seemed like a rich playboy type. Dimples, flirty hazel eyes, not a hair out of place. Great physique under his ski clothes. But he really did nothing for me. I’d have to get to the bottom of why they dislike each other. Not that I know for sure that Jet doesn’t like Kelton, but there’s definitely some rivalry going there.

I’m knocked out of my thoughts when a warm hand lands on my thigh under the sheet. I look over to see Kelton blinking sleepy blue eyes at me.

“Morning,” he says quietly.

“Good morning,” I reply.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, his hand now running up and down my leg. When was the last time I shaved? Crap.

Not that he seems to care. I think back to the night where I’d slept in his arms, either my head on his chest or him spooning me between sex.

“I slept very well. You?”

“Same,” he replies, staring at me.

I want to go for another round, but I have to be the responsible secretary now. “I think we have that breakfast meeting at nine,” I say.

His brow furrows and then he grins. “I think you’re right. Very responsible of you to remember.”

I lean down and kiss his lips softly. “It’s my job. Now, are you going to shower with me or go back to your suite?”

He flips the sheets aside and stands. He stretches, and I watch his back muscles bunch and move under his taut golden skin. Why is he so tan in winter? He goes to walk to the bathroom, me watching the muscular globes of his ass, before he stops and turns.

“You coming, or what?”

I hop out of bed and follow him to the shower.

I ’m thankful this very boring meeting is almost over. The highlight was the food. Same delicious pastries and meats we’ve had the past few days. I’m going to put on so much weight being here and it’s going straight to my ass. Not that my boss minds. He told me several times last night how much he loved my thick butt and hips, and couldn’t keep his hands off of them. Admittedly, it made me feel really good. I am lacking in the boob department, but apparently I make up for it on the bottom half.

After the meeting, I finish up my notes and close the laptop. Kelton watches as annoying-ass Laskin grabs two extra pastries and lifts them in greeting as he walks out of the room munching on one.

“He has the nerve to bitch about his cholesterol and blood pressure and eats like that,” Kelton says.

I chuckle. “I agree. I had to hear it nonstop, and also make all his doctor appointments.” I end on an eyeroll.

Kelton, who looks delicious but casual in a dark-blue polo shirt and khaki pants, cocks his head. “He what?”

I look around nervously, even though it’s just the two of us here. “Uh, was I not supposed to do that?”

“That’s not work duties. He shouldn’t have been making you make his personal or medical appointments,” he says, his jaw ticking like he’s angry.

Guess I’ll keep to myself the fact that he had me not only make but double-check every week, his golf appointments for Sunday. Little did he know I had them place a standing appointment for the same time each Sunday, and when Laskin would fail to ask me to make it for the week, I’d confirm that he couldn’t make it and I’d cancel it.

“Well, I didn’t know. That was my first secretary job.”

“I bet you had to fetch his coffee, too, huh?” he asks.

Two creams, one sugar. And his food delivery downstairs.

“Yep,” I reply.

“Bastard,” he mutters under his breath. “He really needs to retire.”

“I could get with HR and put together a retirement package he won’t be able to resist, if you want,” I say, bumping my hip against his flirtatiously.

He turns and looks down at me, then glances at the door to make sure it’s closed. He reaches a hand up and rubs his thumb along my jaw. “Actually, that’s genius, Adlee.”

I admittedly swoon under his touch, not caring if anyone walks in. I lean in to his hand, closing my eyes and willing him to kiss me. I realize it’s foolish, to be falling for my boss, but I think anyone under these circumstances would be unable to resist.

He kisses me softly, then pulls back. “Just run it by me first.”

Huh? I look at him, confused. “Run what by you?”

“Jerrold’s retirement package,” he replies, chuckling.

My eyes betray me by sliding down to his package, and back up into his eyes. Caught meat-gazing again.

He smirks and slaps my ass. “Later. Go get changed, we’re going into town.”

“We are?”

He nods. “As much as I like that skirt and top that show off your tight little body, you’ll need to keep warm.”

“Yes, boss,” I say, wishing he’d come keep me warm in my bed.

“Good girl.”

I didn’t know two little words could make me feel like my panties are shrinking and flush my skin.

We don’t ride the elevator together. Instead, I head into my suite. Once inside, I look at the mess of a bed I hadn’t bothered to make and smile. So many memories in such a short time. I briefly wonder if this is a temporary thing, just some fun to pass the time, and realize it very well could be for him. Which means it should be for me, too. After all, once we go back to work, he’ll be at his desk and office working, and I’ll be back in my cubicle, working for annoying-ass Laskin and gossiping with Gabe all day. But what I refuse to do once I get back is do any more work for Lea Jordan. Screw that, she can learn her job the way she’s supposed to. The only hope I have is that we can get Laskin retired and maybe I’ll get a better boss. Truth is, I don’t mind fetching coffee and making appointments for people, I just don’t like the way he treats me. He never says thank you or please. Crusty old asshole.

I quickly put on a fitted pair of straight-leg jeans, a red cropped sweater, and some brown boots. I grab my scarf and wool cap and head out the door with my purse in hand.

Kelton is waiting for me in the lobby in a wool coat and scarf. He’s still in the khakis but has changed into a plain black shirt of some kind.

He sees me and throws me a smile that makes my nipples hard, then indicates I should walk ahead of him. Outside, the big black SUV waits, and a driver opens the back door for us.

Aside from my trip from the airport, I haven’t really had a good look at the town. The view is amazing from the resort, but I’m excited to see the rest. And it does not disappoint. Quaint shops are decorated with festive holiday décor, and people walk arm and arm down the street with coffees and chatting with each other. The sun is out but snow blankets the roofs and signs and lampposts. It’s very idyllic and quaint, and as much as I hate the snow, I find myself wishing I could have a cabin around here for Christmastime—the only time I like to see snow.

The driver stops, parks, and gets out to open the door. Kelton exits, then puts his gloved hand out to help me out. I thank the driver and then loop my arm through Kelton’s as he puts it out. I don’t even ask where we’re going. I don’t care. I’m excited to see everything.

Arm in arm, we stroll into the first store—a quaint Christmas-themed store that smells of pine and cinnamon.

The bell above us chimes and a short older woman with a friendly smile greets us. “Welcome to Tinsel and Traditions! I’m Louise. Let me know if I can help you in any way!”

“Thank you, Louise,” Kelton says. “I’m looking for an ornament for my mother. She loves cows. For some reason.”

Louise laughs and nods. “I have just the thing, young man. Right this way.”

This is the first deeply personal thing I’ve learned about Kelton Fox. His mom is still alive and likes cow stuff. Or cow print. Or whatever. I’ve never gotten into the fad, and honestly thought it was outdated, but who am I to judge?

Louise hands him an ornament with the current year on it, which reads: It’s mooving how much I love you.

Ten out of ten on the cheese scale.

No pun intended.

I bite my lip to keep my from laughing.

Kelton turns to me. “What do you think?”

Crap.

“Uh, it’s, cute I guess?” It was the nicest thing I could think of. Kelton told me he’s thirty-two. So his mom has to be, what, in her fifties? Or maybe sixties? That seems like such a grandma thing to collect but again, what do I know? My own mother loves that farmhouse shit but I don’t recall any cow print anywhere.

“Do you have anything else?” Kelton asks Louise, clearly sensing my distaste, which wasn’t my intention.

“I mean, it’s cute,” I say, obviously backpedaling. “She might like it?”

Louise looks between us, then puts on a smile and says, “I’ll let you two lovebirds decide. Find me when you have questions!”

I want to correct her on the lovebirds comment, but I don’t. It would be useless. She reminds me of Bernice Evergreen, who seems to think the same thing about us. Maybe these older women have an intuition about chemistry. Lord knows we have enough of it between us.

I can tell Kelton is uncomfortable with the reference, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he says, “You don’t like it?”

I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “It’s not for me. It’s for your mom. I didn’t even know cow print was still a thing.”

His face mars into a frown, and I immediately regret the statement. Time for more backpedaling. I’ll be riding backward all the way to the West Coast at this point if I keep it up.

“I mean... maybe you should ask her?” I bite my lip.

He looks at me thoughtfully, then nods. “You’re right. I haven’t seen much of it in the home in a while.”

I want to sag in relief, but I don’t. Instead, I put my hand on his very muscular forearm. “You know, I think moms like more personal gifts. Maybe a photo of you? A handwritten note or something personal for her to treasure?”

He makes a face but quickly recovers. “She has plenty of pictures of me, but you did give me an idea.”

With that, he waves to Louise and the staff, and drags me by the hand out the door and out into the cold and blustery Colorado day.