The Billionaire’s Naughty List (Cam Show Crush)

11. Lily

11

LILY

Is there an equivalent of rage baking for when you’re worried? Whatever that is, that’s what I’m doing.

Don’t worry. I sanitized everything before I set up my little bake shop.

Two days have passed since Elliot stormed back into my life and I got the shock of a lifetime. I’m not talking about the lake, although that was cold as heck, but his heart felt admission.

He’s since sent the promised text to my dad, and here I am. Up to my elbows in cookie dough, frosting in my hair.

I’m scheduled to do another live today. Elliot sent his plane for my family, but the snow is keeping everything grounded. Which is saying something about the amount of white stuff on the ground out there.

The mudroom door opens and closes, pulling my attention from the dough beneath my rolling pin. Elliot strides down the hall looking sexy as sin in his thick flannel shirt. He’s straight out of my dreams.

“Now I remember why I have Kyle shovel snow. My ass is frozen.” He grumbles about the resort keeping Kyle too busy, as if it’s not Mother Nature’s fault that we woke up to another six inches of snow.

I make a commiserating sound. “Are you a popsicle?”

He slides in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and rests his chin on the top of my head. “I am. You gonna warm me up?”

“Did you find any mistletoe?”

He dangles a sprig over my head. With a happy gasp, I turn in his arms and stretch up, pressing my lips to his. He’s icy cold, but not for long. The mistletoe hits the counter behind me and he wraps me up in a hug so tight I never want to escape. He sweeps his tongue along the seam of my lips, begging entrance.

I open for him and he doesn’t waste a second. My body comes alive, lighting up with delight and desire in every place we touch. Moaning, I suck on his tongue. His hands coast down my back, grabbing my ass and hanging on tight.

Every moment we’re not touching is too long and now that we’re chasing away the chill, one minute stretches into the next. And the next.

Only when his phone chimes do we pull apart, breathing hard. It’s my dad’s text tone.

I turn around, keeping my back pressed to his front. “Read it.”

He keeps an arm wrapped around me, hand splayed across my lower belly, as he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

This morning he texted, telling my dad he’d met someone.

“He says he’s glad to hear it, and I quote, ‘can’t wait to meet her.’”

I reach for the rolling pin, needing to keep my hands busy. “Well, that’s gonna be a fun conversation.”

He squeezes me. “It’ll be fine.”

His phone chimes again and we both still. I feel his exhale against my shoulder blades, then a chuckle. “You’re not going to believe this, but?—”

There’s a pause that stretches on for five years.

“What?” I prod.

“He says he met someone, too.”

My jaw drops and I spin, snatching the phone from his hand, reading my father’s message. “I tried to get him to find someone, but he always brushed off my concerns saying it wasn’t the time. So now’s the time?”

Elliot laughs again, wrapping me in his arms.

“Is he bringing her?”

“Ask him.”

I type out a message and hit send. Only then does it hit me that I’m writing to my dad on Elliot’s phone, while standing in Elliot’s arms. Maybe to some people that wouldn’t be a big thing, but this is what I longed for. These Hallmark moments.

And of course, the more X-rated moments.

Which reminds me, I’m supposed to be prepping for my live. Elliot wants to watch. It’s hard to read him sometimes and while I wholeheartedly believe him when he says wants to see it for himself, there’s got to be a difference between seeing and imagining, right?

“What’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” I glance up.

“That look. What are you thinking about?”

I stare up into those gorgeous green/gray eyes, my stomach flopping and flipping.

What if he hates that my followers talk to me? They can be racy. Hell, they can be downright crude. Most of the time, the other guys nip that in the bud, because they know I’ll only tolerate so much.

Elliot’s phone buzzes between my hands. A text from my father appears in a bubble across the top of the screen. He reaches for the phone, wrapping his hand around mine and wordlessly aiming the screen at his face. It unlocks with a soft clicking sound.

It’s not lost on me that last year he was on a list of the top-ten most generous billionaires and he’s just handing over his phone like it’s no big deal. There are probably senator’s phone numbers in here.

I mentally shake the awe and trepidation away and read my dad’s text.

Colt: Thought about it. But I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Especially at Christmas.

I read the text to Elliot.

“What does that even mean?” My brows are sky high as my brain spins in circles like a top, trying to figure out who my dad’s mystery woman is.

If he’s talking like that, he must really like her. They must be serious. I mean, I get that Elliot and I are serious and that it was super fast. But that—this wasn’t the plan. This just happened. A happy accident, as Bob Ross would say.

“Beats me. Should I ask?”

“I mean, if he’s getting on a plane tonight…”

He takes the phone from me and steps away. I appreciate the space, even as I miss his touch. I need to focus. Who am I kidding?

I can’t focus.

“How am I supposed to frost these cookies with all this,” I wave a hand at his phone, “going on?”

“I’ll frost your cookies.” His lips pull into a naughty smirk.

“Elliot!”

“Too much?”

I cover my face with my hands, laughing because even as his words shock me, I love that he said them. That he’s himself with me, not holding back any more.

“Has he replied?”

“Not yet.” He places the phone on the counter, then juts his chin toward the trays of freshly baked sugar cookies. “Can I do anything to help?”

I bite my lip. “Those are for my live…”

He lifts his chin and takes a deep breath. “Right.” Then he tips up his wrist and consults his watch.

I’m going to be a nervous wreck. But it’ll be okay, right? If Elliot’s not okay with this, that’ll be a discovery. We’ll figure things out from there.

But right now he’s glancing between me and the cookies like he’s not sure which he wants to snack on.