Crashing Christmas: A Billionaire Office Romance Read online

  Crashing Christmas: A Billionaire Office Romance

  Emma Tharp

  Crashing Christmas: A Billionaire Office Romance

  By Emma Tharp

  Copyright © 2018 by Emma Tharp

  For more about this author, please visit www.emmatharp.com

  All characters and events in this eBook, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, then please return to amazon.com and purchase an additional copy.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator” at the address below.

  www.emmatharp.com

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  One

  Jillian

  My stomach sinks to the floor and my nerves are raw. I can’t believe what I just heard. All of these people are going to lose their jobs before the holidays.

  I refuse to give up hope. I might be able to save them somehow. When life closes a door, it opens a window. I stand up and push the chair into the table. Smoothing down my skirt, I walk to the door and say, “At least let them have their Christmas party.”

  Leaving the conference room, I don’t look back as I announce to the staff, “Let’s party, guys.” I make a beeline to the break room to get myself a drink. I’ll do anything to forget the awful news.

  I mentally checked out of the meeting the second my boss had said the words “hostile takeover” and “people will lose their jobs by New Year’s.”

  My heels click down the hall as I stride quickly toward the party. The ad agency is nice—nothing fancy—but it’s decked out for the holidays. Normally, it’s clean lines and contemporary decor. Today there’s twinkling lights, fake snowflakes, snowmen, and icicles hanging around the office along with a healthy dose of holiday cheer.

  We’ve spared no expense on this party. The break room smells like fresh bread, rosemary, and mulled wine. I’m ready to take the edge off and have a drink.

  There isn’t a line yet in front of the huge punch bowl. Pouring myself a generous cup full, I down several swallows and get a refill before moving on to the food tables. Nothing even sounds good. My stomach rolls at the sight of the bloody beef at the carving station.

  “Thank you for the bonus check,” Sheila Davis says, clutching a plate with a bacon-wrapped scallop on it. “The hubby and I had no idea how much money it’d cost to have twins. They’re only five months old and they’re already costing us a fortune. This money is going to come in handy.” She has a huge, appreciative grin on her face and it’s like a knife to the heart because I know what’s around the corner for her: an ugly pink slip.

  Chugging the rest of my cup of cheer, I smile back at her and say, “You’re so welcome, Sheila. Happy Holidays.” I tip my cup upside down. “I’m empty. Got to go grab some more.”

  There has to be something I can do. What that is, I have no idea. As a supervisor here, one who appreciates every employee that works for me, I also feel responsible for every single one of them.

  I’m waiting in line for the mulled wine when one of my favorite employees, Jason Preston, walks up to me and throws his arms around me. He smells like a cologne my dad used to wear, Old Spice maybe. Great guy and a hard worker. “Pass along my thanks for the bonus check. You have no idea how much it’s going to help us out. Joanie just lost her job last week. I’m not sure what we’re going to do, but that check is going to keep us afloat while she tries to find a new job.” Jason sniffs and wipes at his nose. Christ, he might cry.

  Rubbing his arm, I say, “It’s going to be okay.”

  He grasps my hand and an actual tear falls from the corner of his eye but he swipes at it quickly.

  I pull him in for a hug. He needs it and so do I. This man has no idea that next week he’s losing his job, too. The room is cool, but I’m sweating and all I want to do is get out of here.

  “Are you okay?” Jason asks me, pulling away from the hug.

  Can he sense my unease? All these people that I respect and care for have lives that will be altered—and soon. My nerves are shot. “I’m tired; in fact, I think I should head home.” I give him a half-hearted smile, sip the rest of my drink, and head for the door.

  Thankfully, no one else stops me.

  My feet are unsteady under me as I walk down the road. The drinks at the party, along with the fact that I haven’t eaten since breakfast, might be why. The last thing I can think about now is eating with my stomach in knots over today’s news.

  The bar around the corner is the perfect spot to brainstorm some ways to save my staff’s jobs. There’s a seat open at the bar and the bartender comes right over. Bless him.

  “I’ll take two shots of tequila,” I tell him.

  He comes back with my order and I unceremoniously take one right after the other, no salt or limes, just the liquor. The sweet burn is a welcome change from the stress and anxiety of the last couple of hours.

  “Is everything okay?” a sexy man asks as he takes the seat next to me. He isn’t my type. He has the salt and pepper thing going, but he doesn’t seem old. No wrinkles around the eyes or forehead. His eyes are hazel, with flecks of amber and gold. Maybe he is my type. Who am I kidding? It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date, I don’t even know what my type is.

  “Things could be better,” I say, attempting to bat my eyelashes, but my buzz is pretty intense.

  “Do you have something in your eye?” he asks, concern furrowing his brows.

  “I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” I say, unblinking this time.

  He leans forward and takes his wallet out of his back pocket. “Can I buy you a drink?” His arm comes up to wave over the bartender. The movement stirs up the air between us and the scent of his cologne hits my nose. It’s rich and masculine and I want to smell more of it.

  The man and I turn to face each other. His knee grazes mine and a charge of energy shoots through me, heating me up from the inside.

  I lean in closer and say, “Sure, I’ll have a glass of white wine.”

  The bartender takes our order and brings us our drinks.

  There’s amber liquid in his glass. He takes a swallow and I can’t help but watch his mouth as he licks his lips after taking a drink. Catching me staring, a smile starts in his eyes and makes its way to his lips.

  My cheeks heat up. I’m sure they’re beet red. Looking away, I lift my glass and have a sip, light and fruity.

  “How’s the wine?” he asks.

  I drag my teeth over my bottom lip. “It’s good. Really good.” Taking several more swallows, I enjoy the c
hilled liquid and let it cool me off.

  “Glad you’re enjoying it,” he says, his eyes trained on me and his full lips slightly parted.

  “Thank you. What brings you here?” Something about the way he’s looking at me with hunger in his eyes makes me bold. I run my finger along his bicep. He works out. I can tell. His muscles are sculpted like he spends hours a day at the gym.

  He flashes me a grin, then takes my hand in his and squeezes it. “I needed a drink. What about you?”

  “Same.” There’s no need in being a negative Nancy tonight. I’m not going to tell him how horrible my day has been.

  “You’re beautiful.” His voice is husky, and his gaze moves down my body, making a stop at the small amount of cleavage exposed by my sweater. He stops again on my bare legs. I’m glad I wore a skirt today.

  My breath catches and my heart beats in a sporadic rhythm. Normally, when I meet someone in a bar and he says I’m beautiful, I laugh it off, taking it as a pick-up line with not much sincerity behind it. I’ve heard it before too many times to count. Not this time. It was the way he said it, the rasp in his voice, the honesty in his hazel eyes.

  I take a few sips of my wine and set the glass in front of me. A happy lightheadedness comes over me thanks to the alcohol and his compliment.

  “Thank you. You’re very handsome.” It’s an understatement. He’s gorgeous. But it’s his presence that I’m drawn to. The set of his shoulders, his confidence, even the tone of his voice captivates me.

  Two women walk by and I catch them from the corner of my eye checking him out. I can’t blame them. I’m sure it happens to him all the time. It’s pure luck that the seat next to me opened up and he took the seat.

  I’m finding it difficult to form a thought—and avoid the lust that’s come over me—so instead, I lean in and press my lips to his. His mouth is warm and tastes of whiskey. The kiss starts soft, a gentle touch of his tongue with mine, but it quickly progresses to hot and deep. Tingles shoot straight down between my thighs. Pulling back, I say, “What do you say we get out of here?” Did I just say that? I’m never this forward. It has to be all the stress or the aching loneliness I’ve been feeling. Whatever the reason, I want this man and I’m going with it.

  His eyes hold mine and I’m entranced. There’s an intensity there that nearly knocks me off the bar stool. “Let’s go. I’ll get us a cab.” He stands and gives me his hand. I’m thankful for his tall solid body. He steadies me, and we head out toward the road where he flags us a taxi.

  “Do you live close by?” I ask.

  He answers by kissing me again. Man, can he kiss. My eyes flutter closed as his tongue licks its way down my neck. My pulse quickens and heat pools between my legs.

  For a fleeting moment in the cab, I wonder if I’m making a huge mistake. I’m going home with a complete stranger. He could be a serial killer. But at the moment, the only area of my brain that seems to be working well is the part dealing with sexual desire.

  We’re in his apartment in no time. There’s not much I remember about the cab ride, with the exception of being lip-locked with my sexy stranger the entire ride.

  His place is huge by New York City standards. It’s well-decorated, too, with expensive-looking furnishings. Is he married? I look at his left hand. No ring. That’s a plus.

  We’re barely inside his door and he’s stripping my sweater off. I try to undo his buttons, but it’s impossible. Instead, I rip the shirt open, sending all the buttons clinking to the floor.

  “Sorry,” I say, but I don’t really mean it. Sure, his shirt is ruined, but wow, the view of his chest and abs is worth it.

  “Don’t apologize.” He undoes his gray dress pants and they slide down to his ankles. He’s left in a black pair of boxer briefs, but not for long. They come down and join the pants on the floor. He bends over and removes his shoes and socks.

  My eyes are glued to his naked body. Damn. How did I get so lucky? His dick is huge. He’s hard and ready. “Why are your clothes still on?” There’s a self-assured grin on his face. He knows how hot he is.

  “Right.” I tug my skirt down my legs and kick my heels off. I’m left standing in my red lace bra and thong. Thank God, I shaved this morning.

  He’s in front of me, warm hands unclasping my bra on the first go. He has skill. My nipple is in his mouth, his lips gently sucking on it while he pulls my thong off. I draw in a sharp breath as his tongue flicks and teases my breast.

  Grasping my hips, he guides me to the couch and lays me down. “Drop your legs open.”

  I do as I’m told.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he says seconds before his head dips between my legs.

  My head swims in a sea of pleasure when his tongue slides up and down my clit. I tremble at the current of sensation racing through me. It’s been so long since a man has touched me; I know it won’t be long before I explode. My fingers are in his hair, so soft and silky.

  His mouth ravages me and I can’t contain my cries of pleasure.

  “You’re really good at this,” I hiss out and tighten my grip on his hair.

  My moans grow in intensity when he plunges two fingers deep inside me, then three. I move my hips to match the experienced thrust of his tongue against my clit.

  The sight of the sexy, naked man in front of me, clearly strong and powerful, going down on me, along with his merciless skill has me writhing and quivering. Spirals of pleasure spin around in my belly and all at once I see stars behind my eyelids in one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever experienced.

  Mister sex-god works his way up my body with light kisses until he’s hovering over me, mouth on mine, kissing me fiercely, like a promise of what’s to come.

  “I want you to ride me,” he says and gets himself to the sitting position.

  Yes. Please. I can hardly wait to have him inside me. Straddling him, I notice that he’s wearing a condom. I don’t know when or how he put it on, but it doesn’t matter now.

  Guiding his length to my entrance, I take him one inch at a time. “You feel so good,” I pant out, adjusting to his size.

  His hands reach around to cup my ass and guide me up and down on him. He’s deep inside me now and I gasp at the feeling of fullness. I wrap my arms around his neck to stabilize myself. He takes a nipple in his mouth and scrapes his teeth along the delicate flesh, sucking it hard.

  I’m moaning and clutching the skin of his shoulders. He takes over the pace, holding my ass up with his hands as he pounds into me with a relentless rhythm from underneath me. I shift one of my legs up and bend my knee to change the angle. He’s hitting the delicate bundle of nerves inside me and it makes me wild.

  He’s driving his hips up, I’m bouncing mine, both of us racing toward our orgasm.

  My lover’s eyes pinch closed and his face contorts in lust. His masculine scent, the smooth glide of his body against mine, our cries of ecstasy, urge me toward another orgasm. To stop myself from screaming, I bite his shoulder, my sex clenching around him.

  His movements become erratic and he’s breathless when he squeezes me close to him and pulses inside me.

  It feels like forever, yet no time at all, his face is pressed in my neck, his hot breath against my skin.

  He lifts me up without saying a word and carries me to his massive bed.

  * * *

  Intense, head-splitting light awakens me from an erotic dream. And I’m freezing. I open one eye only marginally to find that I am naked and not in my own bed. My stomach sinks and I feel like I might be sick. Clutching my temples in my hands, I think back to what happened last night.

  Oh, fuck.

  Painfully slow, I turn my head to find an incredibly sexy man sleeping naked next to me. Memories come flooding back of his strong capable hands on me, his mouth and warm velvety tongue everywhere on my body. An ache builds between my thighs, even though I’m sated from last night. How many times did we have sex? Multiple.

  My head splinters as I lift it from the
pillow. I need coffee, water, aspirin, and my own bed, but first—and most importantly—I have to get out of here without waking up the mystery man. Christ, did I even ask him his name?

  This man must be successful, and in my drunken state last night, I didn’t take notice of quite how posh his apartment is. His bedroom is the size of my entire apartment. The walls are pale gray and his bedroom suite is all dark wood. It had to cost a fortune.

  Scouring the area, my clothes are nowhere to be found. I tiptoe out of his room and down a hallway to the well-lit, massive living room. My arms are positioned to hide my body. What if he has a roommate? My sweater and skirt are in a heap on the hardwood floor, my bra is strewn across the back of a leather chair. Great, no sign of my underwear. It doesn’t matter now. I throw the clothing I can find on in record time—considering the size of my headache—and get the hell out here.

  I’m thankful I make it out without having to talk to the sex god from last night and am relieved I’ll never have to see him again.

  Two

  Jack

  I wait for the door to close before rolling over. Folding my hands behind my head, I think about the leggy ginger who shared my bed last night. Her porcelain skin was flawless. With no more than a little liquid courage in her, she was a freak. Fuck, I’m smiling and I haven’t had a cup of coffee yet. That never happens.

  She stumbled into the bar last night and I knew exactly who she was. I study every company before a hostile takeover. Although, this was the first time I’d ever really wanted to get to know the enemy.

  I wasn’t going to speak to her, but when I overheard the assholes next to me concocting a plan to take advantage of her, I knew I had to save her. But there’s no saving her from me. One of my faults has always been poor impulse control. That I’ve never been denied anything in my life hasn’t helped me along the way in that department.