All Chapters of Dirty Christmas: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Snow fell in slow, lazy flakes over Manhattan, softening the noise of the city as if the world was preparing itself for something sinful. Julie Meg pressed her gloved hands against her cheeks, exhaling into the cold air as she stepped out of the elevator onto the executive floor of Bush Enterprises. Christmas trees lined the hallway, twinkling with gold lights, but none of it distracted her from the knot in her stomach.Today was the company’s Christmas retreat.And she would be snowed in for two nights…With her boss. Colvin Bush.The man who ruled the business world with that cold stare. The man who never smiled unless he wanted something. The man Julie had tried so hard not to want.She pushed open the door to the suite they would be sharing. The company booked out an entire lodge, but due to an accidental overbooking, some pairings had to share rooms. She and Colvin apparently lost the draw.He stood by the fireplace with his jacket off, sleeves rolled, glass of whiskey in hand. T

Julie woke slowly, drifting up from sleep like someone rising through warm water.Heat pressed against her back. A strong arm lay across her waist. A steady breath warmed the side of her neck.Colvin.The realization hit her like a spark.His chest against her spine. His hand resting intimately low on her stomach. Their legs tangled together beneath the heavy lodge blanket.For a second she didn’t move.She just felt him. Warm. Solid. Real.Last night replayed in her mind in slow, dizzying waves. His hands. His mouth. The way he said sweetheart like he had wanted to say it forever.Her heart flipped. She shifted slightly, and the arm around her tightened instinctively.His voice came out low and sleep-rough. “Where are you going.”Julie froze. “You’re awake.”“Mhm,” he murmured, his lips brushing her shoulder. “Have been for a while.”Her breath hitched. “Why didn’t you say anything.”“Because,” he said lazily, “I was enjoying the view.”She flushed. “Colvin…”He nuzzled her neck, inh

Nancy and Freddy walked toward his waiting car. The driver stepped out, bowed quickly, then climbed into another vehicle behind them and drove away. Freddy opened the back door for her.“No driver tonight” he said. “Just us.”Nancy hesitated for a split second before sliding inside. The interior smelled like cedar and warm leather.Freddy joined her on the other side. The moment his door shut, silence wrapped around them. The snow outside glowed gold from streetlights.“Are you cold?” he asked.She shook her head. “No.”“Good. I would hate to warm your hands before I warm the rest of you.”Her breath caught. “You really do not know how to behave.”He leaned back, eyes on her. “Not around you.”The engine hummed to life. He drove through the quiet night, hands steady on the wheel, his jaw tense. Nancy watched him. The way his eyes stayed on the road. The way every muscle in his arm flexed slightly each time he turned.“You are staring” he said without looking at her.“Yes.”“Do I make

Mitchelle barely slept. Her body pulsed with restless heat long after midnight, every thought tangled around Jonathan’s voice, Jonathan’s hands, Jonathan’s slow confident stare. By morning her nerves were a mess. She showered, dressed, and bundled into her coat, trying to convince herself she was fine.She was not fine.When she reached her stall and unlocked it, she kept glancing around like some part of her expected him to appear out of thin air.“He is probably busy,” she muttered. “He is a world famous athlete. He has better things to do.”She set up her candles, arranged the oils, tried to look normal. She had just opened her cash box when a shadow fell across the entrance.Her heart lurched.Jonathan stood there holding two steaming cups of hot chocolate. Snow melted on his dark hair and drops of it slid down his jaw.“Morning,” he said.Her stomach flipped painfully. “You are early.”“Could not sleep.” He held out a cup. “Thought you might need this.”“You barely know what I li

The crunch of snow under the tires of my rented SUV felt like a reluctant homecoming as I pulled up to the Danbury Ranch gates. At forty-five, after years of diplomatic dinners and empty palace beds, the holidays dragged me back to Montana's biting cold. Father insisted on family tradition, but all I craved was solitude amid the pines. I stepped out, breath fogging the air, and spotted him by the barn.Remmy Leto, the ranch foreman who'd been here longer than my memories. Fifty-two now, his frame still solid from years of wrangling cattle, salt-and-pepper hair tousled under a worn Stetson. Our eyes met across the yard, and that old ache stirred in my chest."Annette? Damn, it's been too long." His voice carried over the wind, deep and gravelly, as he strode toward me, wiping callused hands on his jeans. He enveloped me in a hug that smelled of hay and leather, his broad chest pressing against mine just a second longer than necessary. I pulled back, heart racing, forcing a smile."Re