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He wasn’t a monk who’d taken a vow of poverty either. He liked having money. He’d worked hard to get where he was.
Her words, though, made him feel ashamed. He could do more—he would now. But he was still lying to her. What the hell would she think of him when she found out? He wasn’t in the habit of showing his investment portfolio to women he played with. Talking money was crass and personal. But now . . .
He’d called her his girlfriend. She was his actual girlfriend. His submissive. Not just some girl he messed around with. This relationship was getting more and more important to him, and it was partially built on a lie. The lie had taken on a life of its own, and his efforts to not get caught were leaning toward the ridiculous.
Even lying to her about the office party had almost killed him. He’d watched his employees and their significant others dance and eat and drink together, and he’d spent the whole evening trying to look happy while he regretted her not being there.
But she would have found out he owned the company.
His guilt was starting to plague him.
The family Everly was talking to smiled and waved to her as they left. She turned her amber gaze to him, seeming pleased with her success.
The affection in her expression warmed him, and for a minute he forgot his feet were blocks of ice. Then reality came knocking. Anxiety twisted in his belly.
He had to tell her. And soon. Before his lies ruined everything.
* * *
Ambrose handed Everly a steaming mug of hot cocoa. She wrapped her hands around it and sighed with pleasure. Trying not to jiggle her, he cupped her tiny socked feet between his hands, trying to warm them up.
“So what are we doing for Christmas?” Did girls like Everly even accept gifts, or did they ask for immunization donations for children in other countries?
She shrugged. “My Mom and I usually have dinner together Christmas night. I’d like it if you came with me. Don’t worry. She’s nice.”
He’d been thinking about gifts when he brought it up, but she was right. They had moved on to the meeting-the-parents stage. Did he come clean before he introduced her to his family, or did he coach them to avoid talking money?
“Do you think your mother will like me? Are there subjects I should avoid while we’re there?” Fuck, this was kind of nerve-wracking. People generally liked him, but if her mother didn’t, it would seriously suck. He knew how close Everly was to her. Did her mother hate rich people too? Would he have to win two people’s forgiveness?
“She’ll love you. Just don’t tell her you like to tie me up and beat me. She might have trouble liking you after that.”
Ambrose chuckled. “I’ll behave. Our family thing is Christmas Eve at my parents’ house.” He piled another blanket on her, wishing she’d let him draw her a bath. Her skin still felt ice-cold. “My family knows I’m into kink, and they don’t judge, but I won’t do protocol in front of them.”
“So you’re not going to make me sit on your lap and call you Master while we’re there?”
“I don’t make you do those things. You just know your place.” He arched a brow at her, and she blushed, but inched closer to him. He pulled her into his lap, careful not to spill her drink. “Am I allowed to buy you pretty things for Christmas?”
Man. She’d been in his lap for two seconds, and his dick was getting hard. Like it sensed her nearby and knew exactly where it wanted to be, without any prompting from his brain.
She squirmed against him, her subtle smirk telling him she knew exactly how she affected him. Her ass felt cold even through their layers of clothes, and he started thinking of interesting ways to warm it up.
“Pretty things? Like what?” Words were coming from her mouth, but he could tell she was more interested in teasing him with her body than getting an answer.
“Hmm. I’d say lingerie, but seeing you in it would be more a present for me, so that’s not really fair. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “What would you like? Flowers? Jewels? Someone to peel your grapes?” A car? A pony? A trip to Tahiti? He wished he could shower her with expensive gifts. He hadn’t had anyone to spoil in a long time.
“I don’t know. I don’t really need anything.”
“Well, I’m not offering to buy you socks or Tupperware.” He swatted her thigh. “It’s Christmas. Think fun and impractical.”
“I don’t know.” She grimaced. “I don’t do impractical very well.”
“You might not like what I pick,” he warned playfully.
Everly put her hot cocoa on the coffee table and started to be more obvious about grinding against him. He leaned back and watched the way her ass moved while she drove him crazy. How hard would it be to talk her out of her pants? Yeah, yeah, she had her period. Blah, blah. Like any men he knew cared about that. So it was a little messy. Better than being cut off for a whole week. Obviously, she was interested.
She paused. “Can I have orgasms for Christmas?”
“You’re getting those anyway. Whether you like it or not.”
