Christmas Connection Read online

  The heat around her was nothing compared to the heat within her pussy as Cole came and came. She collapsed against him, limp between the rock of his body and the seemingly indestructible door.

  Again knocking ruined what was a perfectly sated mood. “You’ve been in there for ages, Christina, now come out.”

  “Occupied!” Cole drawled.

  Christina’s mouth dropped open when she heard her mother gasp and exclaim, “My daughter’s a slut.”

  “If you weren’t so desperate for me to get a boyfriend!”

  “This is your sister’s house!”

  “This was her idea!”

  “You come out right now!”

  Christina untangled herself from Cole’s body. “But I look like a slut. I can’t go out there.”

  He exhaled deeply, washing his hands in the sink before picking up the discarded towel. Wrapping it around his lower half once more, he opened the bathroom door at a crack. She pressed herself to his warm bare back, peeking around him. “Mrs. Lowe? Christina and I are just talking about our future. Would you mind leaving us alone for five minutes?”

  “Five minutes,” her mother responded. Had it been anyone else but a half-naked Cole, there would have been an acrylic nail in each eye. Luckily, her mother was swayed by a pretty body. Cole closed the door and slid the lock across. Reaching around his own body to catch her arm and pull her in front of him, he pressed her to the door once again and pushed her frizzed hair from her forehead.

  “Mmm, you smell like me now. By the way, Brendan and Caroline can have your mum next year as well.”

  “You’re rushing ahead of me. What’s happening next year?”

  “Preferably we’ll have a three-month-old, a house near a park and a second set of keys to the Ferrari.”

  “You’re saying that like it’s a joint asset.”

  “Come on. I’ll make it worth your while...”

  Help. Cole wasn’t anywhere near her mouth when a thunderous banging on the door made him jerk his head up. “Christina Lowe, you put your clothes on, get out of that bathroom and go and bang your man at home. Don’t defile my Christmas with sinful behaviour.”

  “Hey, hey, hey! Enough with the slander.”

  “It’s all right, Caroline,” Cole said soothingly. “We’re going home.”

  “You’re the slut,” she muttered at Cole. He simply pressed a kiss to her neck, and then picked up her left hand and did the same to her ring finger.

  “I’m not sure Brendan would be happy saying that as a vow. But we’ll blackmail him.”

  “Actually, yeah. Setting me up and expecting me to take it lying down.”

  He made a face. “Well. You weren’t really lying down as much as you were just screaming for…”

  “Finish that sentence and there will be no next year. Not for you.”

  He grinned, hustling her out of the bathroom. “Course there will be. You don’t know that I can cook.”

  The heavens opened and the angels did sing. He cooks. Thank you God.

  “What about me?” Caroline asked as Cole shut the door behind them. “Don’t I get any thanks?”

  Caroline had enough thanks for one year. Christina had turned up, helped cook, played nice and had respectfully not kicked the turkey to the floor and ridden Cole on the dining-room table. Her sisterly obligation was all square.

  They exchanged looks, Cole reading her mind perfectly. Let’s go to yours and do this some more. Looking back at Caroline, they said in gleeful unison, “No.”

  **Billy**

  Billy London

  Ah, poor Billy. The only girl between two boys who each have nearly a foot on her. Didn't stop her from starting physical fights with them. She still thinks she can take them. So while she used to hide away in her wardrobe to read a book or four, she started to question why the heroines in those books would just lie there and take it. No, not just sex, but downright James-Bond-backhand-slapping, do-as-you're-told-woman, inappropriate lie there and take it.

  She couldn't understand it. These women were just playing that mental woman from Coming to America, Miss “Whatever You Like” who barked like a dog and hopped on one foot. Billy didn't want to do that. Definitely not because one empty-headed fool with different anatomy told her to. So she started to create characters and worlds where the women could own their sexuality, their intelligence, their right to turn around and say “jog on, mate” without apology.

  The small problem was that other people wanted to read what she was had written. “Er...why?” didn't cut it as an answer. After years of prodding and pleading and come on and for goodness’ sake, what's the point otherwise, she closed her eyes and pressed “submit.” Actually, she had Prosecco, limencello and white wine, then pressed “submit.” Who would have thought people would actually enjoy reading about the crazy characters who live in her head? But they have done, and Billy feels rather proud of that connection with her fellow man.

  Billy lives in London with the most patient family in the world and doesn't forget for a minute how lucky she is. Well, she wouldn't mind a BBC adaptation of one of her novels... Ooh, with Richard Armitage!

  Table of Contents

  Christmas Connection