Merry with a Tycoon (The Love Beach Holiday Collection)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

CRYSTAL

What am I doing? I ask myself, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Do I really believe something more than a friendship—no, a professional relationship—will come out of this date?

But I’ve seen the way he looks at me. Red jasper or not, I’ve felt the heat of his gaze, the ache in his touch.

But he’s Preston Hollister, heir to the Hollister hotel empire. As the youngest son, Brogan may get away with dating the daughter of their family gardener, but Preston? His type is the likes of Vivian.

But why am I worried about such things? It’s just dinner, nothing more. And even if something more happens, as long as I accept that nothing permanent will come out of it—Preston is still, after all, my landlord—things will be fine.

And maybe that would be better. That way, there won’t be any expectations.

No one’s getting hurt.

Right.

I smooth my dress down for what feels like the hundredth time. The emerald green silk clings to my curves in a way that’s flattering but not too revealing. At least, I hope so. I’ve changed outfits three times already and Preston will be here in… I glance at my phone. Twenty minutes.

As if on cue, my phone beeps and for a heart-stopping moment, I think it might be Preston canceling. But then I see Willy’s name on the screen.

“Hey, Will! How’s Washington?”

“Rainy,” Willy replies. “So what’s this text I got about some rent increase at the Seaside Square yesterday? A triple increase in rent should be illegal, isn’t it?”

I take a deep breath. “Thankfully, it’s been resolved. Preston said Teddy, his cousin sent it out by mistake.”

“Ah, Teddy. That figures.” She chuckles. “Brogan was telling me how their mother gave her a job that required a lot of experience even though she has none.”

I exhale. “Well, it’s been resolved. Preston hand-delivered the letter stating the rent increase notification was sent by mistake. He also told me he actually wants to initiate some community building programs for the square.”

There’s a pause. “Wait. Preston Hollister himself hand-delivered the letter of apology to everyone?”

“I’m not sure about everyone, but he hand-delivered mine,” I reply. “Anyway, we’re going out to dinner.”

“He asked you out on a date?” she exclaims, her voice a mix of surprise and excitement.

I giggle, suddenly feeling giddy. “He sure did.”

“I always suspected him buying stuff at your shop every month wasn’t random,” Willy says. “So, where’s he taking you?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit, feeling a flutter of excitement in my stomach. “He just said to dress nicely.”

“Well, you better give me all the details tomorrow,” Willy insists. “And Crystal? Have fun. You deserve it.”

I smile, warmth spreading through my chest. “Thanks, Will. I will.”

After we hang up, I take one last look in the mirror, adjusting a stray strand of hair. The doorbell rings, right on time, and my heart leaps into my throat. This is it.

I take a deep breath, smooth my dress one last time, and open the door.

Preston stands there, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. He’s wearing dark jeans that fit him perfectly, paired with a crisp white button-down shirt and a navy blazer. The casual elegance of his outfit strikes the perfect balance between relaxed and refined. His hair is slightly tousled, as if he ran his hand through it—a gesture I’ve come to recognize as a sign of his rare moments of nervousness.

“Crystal,” he says, his eyes widening slightly as he takes me in. “You look... stunning.”

I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckles, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. “Shall we?” he asks, offering me his arm.

As we walk to his car, I can’t help but steal glances at him. There’s something about seeing Preston like this—relaxed, a bit less guarded—that makes my heart race. He’s not flashy, but there’s an undeniable air of quiet confidence about him that’s incredibly attractive.

We reach his car, a sleek, midnight blue Aston Martin that probably costs more than my shop’s yearly revenue. Preston’s fingers graze my lower back as he opens the car door. My breath catches, a shiver racing up my spine. Goosebumps prickle across my skin, and for a moment, the world narrows to that single point of contact.

Sliding into the leather seat, I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. This is just dinner, I remind myself. But as Preston gets in and flashes me a smile that’s equal parts charming and genuine, I know I’m in trouble.

My heart definitely is.

Preston takes me to Le Mer, an exclusive restaurant in Love Beach where the menu doesn’t list prices and the wine list goes on for pages. It’s beautiful, elegant, and so far out of my usual experience that it’s like I’ve stepped into another world.

There’s also a fork that has an extra tine and I’m afraid to ask what it’s for.

Across the table, Preston is telling me about his favorite Christmas tradition, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “Every year, without fail, my father would dress up as Santa for the family Christmas party. Back then, the parties were small, just the family, so unlike the holiday parties Mother holds these days,” he says, his gaze distant. “Anyway, Mother would always insist that we could hire a hundred professional Santas if we wanted, but Father wouldn’t hear of it. He loved being Santa and Brogan and I loved it. Mother did, too, secretly. She’d even dress as Mrs. Claus.”

“Your father sounds like an amazing man.”

“He was,” Preston says. “What about you, Crystal? What’s your favorite holiday tradition?”

I could tell him that my parents were always fighting about one thing or another and so I spent most of my holidays with Willy’s family. I probably know more about their Filipino holiday traditions than any other. They even had a stocking just for me hanging from their mantelpiece.

“Probably the Noche Buena feast with Willy’s family,” I say, a warm smile spreading across my face. “They always made me feel like I was part of their family. We’d stay up until midnight on Christmas Eve, sharing this amazing spread of Filipino dishes. Willy’s mom makes the best bibingka, this coconut rice cake that’s just heavenly. It became my home away from home during the holidays.”

“I remember those things,” Preston exclaims. “They’re white with cheese on top and served in banana leaves, right? They used to send a tray to the house and Brogan would sneak a few pieces into his room.”

I laugh. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Just then, the server arrives with the main course. With a flourish, he presents our dishes: “Pan-seared Chilean sea bass with saffron beurre blanc, served on a bed of truffle-infused risotto and garnished with micro herbs and edible flowers.”

As the server pours a crisp white wine to accompany the dish, I feel somewhat overwhelmed by the opulence. Yet, as I meet Preston’s eyes across the table, his warm smile grounds me, reminding me that beyond all this luxury, we’re just two people enjoying a meal together.

“Is everything alright?” he asks.

I smile. “Everything’s perfect. It’s just very different from my usual Friday night.”

“And what does a usual Friday night look like for you?”

“Oh, you know,” I say, twirling my wine glass. “Takeout, maybe a movie. Sometimes I’ll go wild and hit up the mini-golf course with a friend.”

Preston’s eyebrows rise. “Mini-golf?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never played mini-golf,” I tease.

He looks almost sheepish. “I can’t say that I have.”

An idea strikes me, and before I can second-guess myself, I blurt out, “Want to try it?”

Preston blinks, clearly taken aback. “Now?”

“Why not?” I challenge, feeling suddenly daring. “Unless you’re afraid of a little competition?”

A slow grin spreads across his face, and my heart does a little flip. “Are you suggesting we ditch this fine establishment for a round of miniature golf?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting, Mr. Hollister. At least, after dessert,” I say, laughing. “So what do you say? Are you game?”

Thirty minutes later, we’re standing at the first hole of Pirate’s Cove Mini Golf, with Preston looking intrigued by the course laid out before us.

“Okay,” I say, handing him a putter. “The goal is to get the ball into the hole in as few strokes as possible. And try not to take it too seriously.”

Preston eyes the course dubiously. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “Just watch and learn.”

As we make our way through the course, I’m treated to a side of Preston I’ve never seen before. He approaches each hole with the same intensity he probably brings to board meetings, muttering about angles and force. But as the game progresses, I see him start to relax, to laugh when his ball goes careening off course.

By the time we reach the final hole—a tricky shot through a pirate ship—Preston is grinning like a kid.

“Hey ho, matey,” he says, lining up his shot. “Winner of this hole gets a prize.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s the prize?”

He looks at me, and the intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch. “How about a kiss?”

My heart races as I nod. “You’re on.”

In the end, it doesn’t matter who wins. As we stand there, laughing and breathless, Preston closes the distance between us.

His lips brush mine, soft and warm and for a moment, it’s as if time stands still and everything around us disappears. All I feel is Preston’s hands cradling my face, his lips moving against mine. And as he deepens the kiss, I can’t help but wonder how I got so lucky.

Win or lose, it’s the best prize I could have asked for.

When he pulls away, I almost groan in disappointment.

“I believe there are other players who need to finish their game,” he murmurs as I glance behind him to see a family trying hard to pretend they’re not watching us.

Then it hits me. I just kissed Preston-freaking-Hollister.

No, he kissed me first.

As we make our way to the window to return our putters, I’m grinning like an idiot. “So, how did you like your first mini-golf game?”

He laughs, pulling me close. “I’d say it was a hole in one.”

As he drives me home, Preston reaches for my hand, resting it on his thigh. It’s a subtle gesture that speaks volumes and I can barely hear my own thoughts as blood rushes through my temples, my heart beating fast. There’s no denying my feelings now: I like Preston.

No, I want him.

“Would you like to come up for a nightcap?” I ask as we stop outside my door. It’s what people say in movies, isn’t it—a nightcap.

Preston’s eyes meet mine, a mix of desire and hesitation in his gaze. “Are you sure?” he asks softly.

I nod, my heart racing. “I’m sure.”

We barely make it through the door before Preston pulls me in for a kiss. Or maybe it’s me. Not that it matters for I don’t care. All I care about is the feel of Preston’s lips on mine, his arms wrapped around my waist, the back of my neck, the scent of his cologne against my skin. All I care about is every second I get to be in his arms.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to kiss you all night,” he murmurs against my lips, his breath warm against my skin. My heart races as his hands roam lower, gently caressing my hips.

My apartment’s so small that somehow we’ve made it all the way to my bedroom door. I pull back slightly, suddenly feeling a flutter of nerves. “Preston, I...”

He rests his forehead against mine as we catch our breath. “I want you, Crystal, but I need to know that this is what you want, too. We can stop anytime.”

I look into his eyes, wishing to plumb their depths and see what lie beneath. He could have anyone he wanted, yet he’s here with me, asking for my consent.

“I want you, too,” I breathe.

Preston’s lips find mine again, more insistent this time. I melt against him as the kiss deepens, my fingers tangling in his hair. Without breaking apart, he slowly walks me backwards until my legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, his hands resting lightly on my waist.

As I nod, Preston gently lowers me onto the bed, his body pressing against mine. His lips trail down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I gasp as he finds a particularly sensitive spot.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin.

My hands roam over his broad shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt. I tug at the fabric, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against mine. Preston pulls back just long enough to shed his shirt before capturing my lips again in a searing kiss.

As his hands slowly begin to unbutton my dress, he pauses, searching my eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

In answer, I pull him down for another passionate kiss. Any remaining doubt disappears, and all I want right now is him. With me. Doing things to me that I’ve only dreamed of.

As Preston’s fingers resume their task, deftly undoing each button. His lips follow the path of newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of kisses down my chest. I arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips.

“God, Crystal,” he breathes against my collarbone. “The sounds you make... you drive me crazy.”

His hands slide under my back, unclasping my bra with practiced ease. As he slowly peels the garment away, I fight the urge to cover myself. Preston must sense my hesitation because he pauses, lifting his gaze to meet mine.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, his eyes roaming over my body with undisguised appreciation.

His words embolden me, and I reach for his belt, fumbling slightly with the buckle. Preston helps me, and soon we’re both stripped down to our underwear. He hovers over me, his eyes dark with desire. I can feel the heat of his body, the hardness of him pressed against my thigh. My breath catches as his hand trails down my stomach, fingers playing with the waistband of my panties.

“May I?” he asks, voice husky.

I nod, lifting my hips to help as he slowly slides the fabric down my legs. The cool air hits my heated skin, making me shiver. But then Preston’s warm hands are on me again, caressing my thighs as he settles between them.

He drops a soft kiss on my inner thigh, then another higher up. My fingers clutch at the sheets as his mouth moves closer to where I ache for him. When his tongue finally makes contact, I cry out, overwhelmed by the sensation.

“You taste divine,” he murmurs against me before diving back in with renewed fervor.

I lose myself in the sensations as Preston’s tongue works its magic. My hips move of their own accord, seeking more of that exquisite friction. One of his hands slides up my body to cup my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple. The dual stimulation has me gasping, teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Preston,” I moan, tangling my fingers in his hair. “Oh god, don’t stop.”

He hums against me, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. His free hand joins his mouth, fingers sliding inside me as his tongue focuses on that bundle of nerves. The coil of tension in my core winds tighter and tighter until finally, it snaps.

I cry out as waves of ecstasy wash over me, my back arching off the bed. Preston doesn’t let up, drawing out my orgasm until I’m trembling and oversensitive. Only then does he slowly kiss his way back up my body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

When he reaches my lips, I taste myself on his tongue. It’s intoxicating. I pull him closer, suddenly desperate to feel all of him.

“I need you,” I whisper against his mouth. “Please.”

Preston groans, his hips rocking against mine. “Are you sure?”

In answer, I reach between us to stroke him through his boxer briefs. He hisses in pleasure, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When they open again, they’re dark with need.

“Wait,” Preston says, his voice strained. “We need protection.”

He reaches for his discarded pants, fumbling in the pocket. I watch, my heart racing, as he retrieves a small foil packet. Our eyes meet, and I nod, giving him silent permission.

With practiced ease, Preston rolls the condom on. Then he’s hovering over me again, his weight supported on his forearms. I can feel him, hard and ready, pressed against my entrance.

“Are you ready?” he asks softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I nod, unable to form words. Preston kisses me tenderly as he slowly pushes inside. I gasp at the stretch, the fullness. He pauses, letting me adjust.

“You okay?” he murmurs, concern etched on his face.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Please don’t stop.”

Preston begins to move, slowly at first, giving me time to adjust to the sensation. His eyes never leave mine as he sets a gentle rhythm, his hips rocking against me. I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him in deeper.

“God, Crystal,” he groans. “You feel amazing.”

I run my hands down his back, feeling the muscles flex with each thrust. The initial discomfort fades, replaced by waves of pleasure that build with every movement. Preston’s lips find mine again, swallowing my moans as he picks up the pace.

Our bodies move together in perfect synchronicity, as if we’ve done this a thousand times before. I lose myself in the feeling of him—his weight on top of me, his scent surrounding me, the sound of his labored breathing in my ear.

I gasp, clinging to him as the pleasure intensifies. “Oh god, yes...”

He groans in response, burying his face in my neck as his thrusts become more urgent. I can feel the tension building in his body, matching the coiling heat in my core. One of his hands slides between us, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Come for me,” he murmurs against my skin. “I want to feel you.”

His touch sends sparks of electricity through me and I cry out as the dam breaks, waves of ecstasy washing over me. Preston follows soon after, his hips jerking erratically as he finds his release.

For a moment, we lay there tangled together, our ragged breathing the only sound in the room. Eventually, Preston shifts, carefully withdrawing from me. I whimper at the loss of contact as he disposes of the condom.

When he returns to bed, he gathers me in his arms, pulling me close against his chest. I nestle into his warmth, feeling utterly content as he traces lazy patterns on my skin with his finger.

“That was...” I trail off, unable to find words adequate to describe what just happened between us.

“Incredible,” Preston finishes for me, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “You’re incredible.”

I blush at his praise, hiding my face against his chest. Preston chuckles softly, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. The tenderness in his eyes takes my breath away.

As we settle back into a comfortable silence, I find myself not wanting this moment to end.

“Will you...” I start hesitantly, then gather my courage. “Will you stay the night?”

Preston’s arms tighten around me. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

Relief washes over me at his words. I snuggle closer, savoring the warmth of his body and the comforting weight of his arm around me.

“Good,” I murmur, my eyes growing heavy. “Because I don’t think I’m ready to let you go just yet.”

Preston’s chest rumbles with a low chuckle. “I’m not going anywhere. Get some rest.”

As I drift off to sleep, I feel more content than I have in a long time. The last thing I’m aware of is Preston’s fingers gently combing through my hair and his lips pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

It’s like a dream. A beautiful and perfect dream.

And who knows?

Maybe it is.