Chapter 4

four

?. . .?

Ryan

I drape tinsel along the mantle, my gaze drifting to Anastasia as she reaches up to hang an ornament, her ass jiggling deliciously. Heat surges through me and I tear my eyes away, only to find myself staring at her lush curves a moment later. This vibrant, compassionate woman is getting under my skin in a way I never expected.

My hands itch to explore her body. I remember how soft her skin good. How good her pussy tasted.

Fuck, I want to bury my face in her auburn hair and breathe in her scent. I long to coax breathy moans from her full lips as I worship every inch of her. But I can't let myself get carried away, no matter how badly I crave her.

She doesn't know who I really am—that I'm no ordinary volunteer but a billionaire in hiding. If Anastasia knew the truth, everything would change between us. She might look at me differently, see me as just another wealthy playboy looking for a small-town fling. And that's the last thing I want.

I'm torn between my growing feelings and the web of secrets I'm spinning. I've never met anyone like Anastasia. She's so genuine and warm, with a captivating inner light. Being around her makes me want to be a better man, not the jaded tycoon I've become. But how can I let her get close when I'm living a lie?

"What do you think of this spot for the wreath, Ryan?" Her melodic voice snaps me out of my reverie.

"It's perfect. You have a real knack for this." I flash her a smile, hoping she can't see the hunger in my eyes.

"I just want everything to be beautiful for the families we're helping. They deserve some extra joy this time of year." She returns my smile, her emerald eyes sparkling with an enthusiasm that takes my breath away.

In that moment, I know I'm in trouble. Because despite all the reasons I should keep my distance, I'm falling for the angel in front of me. And I have no idea if I can catch myself before it's too late.

She's unlike any woman I've ever met—warm, compassionate, and dedicated to her community. And as much as I want to, I can't shake the feeling that revealing my true identity would ruin everything.

"So, Ryan," she says, turning the tables on me. "Tell me more about yourself. What brought you to our little town?"

I hesitate, weighing my options. I could lie—tell her some half-truth about needing a change of pace. But looking into her guileless eyes, I can't bring myself to do it.

"Truthfully, I needed a break from my old life. My work consumed me, and I lost sight of what was important."

“What kind of work do you do?”

Shit . I can’t tell her who I really am. So, I hedge. “I work at an office.” It’s not a total lie. I do work in an office. I just didn’t disclose that I happen to own said office.

Her expression softens, and she nods in understanding. "I can relate to that. Sometimes, our dreams take up so much of our time and energy that we forget to live our lives."

A comfortable silence falls between us as we continue decorating. I can't help but notice the way her hips sway as she reaches for ornaments, and I shift my gaze, willing away the growing arousal.

"You know," she starts, her cheeks flushing, "my biggest dream is to expand the community center. We could do so much more for the kids in this town, but funding has always been an issue."

"That's admirable, Anastasia. I'm sure you'll find a way to make it happen."

She laughs, but there's a hint of sadness in her voice. "I wish it were that simple. Even if I could secure the funding, I'd need a miracle to pull it off in time for next year's event."

"Stranger things have happened," I say, unable to help myself.

"Maybe for people like you," she replies, glancing down at her curvy body. "But for someone like me, well, a girl can dream, right?"

I frown. Is she really put herself down? Jesus Christ, does the girl not realize what a knock-out she is?

Nope. I’m not having this. My girl is going to know her worth. I’ll make damn sure of that.

"Anastasia," I say, gently taking her hand in mine. Her skin is warm and soft, sending shivers up my spine. "Don't ever think you're not good enough. You're beautiful, inside and out. And as for your dreams, I have no doubt every single of them will come true." Because I will make it my mission to make sure they do. Anything my girl wants, she’s going to get.

She looks up at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Really?"

"Really," I reply, meaning every word. In that moment, I realize that Christmas miracles do exist, and one of them is standing right in front of me.

Anastasia

The more time I spend with Ryan, the more I find myself drawn to him. He's different from any man I've ever met. Sure, he's handsome, but there's something else about him that intrigues me. He's thoughtful and kind, always quick to lend a hand without seeking praise. And when he looks at me, it's as if he sees straight through the layers to the woman beneath.

It's both thrilling and terrifying.

As we put the finishing touches on the decorations, I catch Ryan's gaze lingering on me again. The intensity in his blue eyes sends a shiver down my spine, and I feel my cheeks flush under his scrutiny. What is it about this man that affects me so deeply?

"How about we take a break?" I suggest, needing a moment to collect myself. "I could make us some hot chocolate."

Ryan's face lights up with a boyish grin that makes my heart skip a beat. "That sounds perfect. Lead the way."

We head to the small kitchenette adjoining the main room. As I bustle around, gathering mugs and ingredients, I'm hyper-aware of Ryan's presence behind me. The space suddenly feels too small, the air charged with an electricity that crackles between us.

I focus on the task at hand, heating the milk and stirring in rich cocoa powder, cinnamon, and a pinch of cayenne for an extra kick. The aroma of chocolate and spice fills the room, wrapping us in its cozy embrace.

When the hot chocolate is ready, I carefully pour it into two oversized mugs, topping each with a generous swirl of whipped cream. I turn to hand one to Ryan and find him leaning against the counter, watching me with a soft smile.

"You're in your element here," he remarks, accepting the mug with a brush of his fingers against mine. "It's like watching an artist at work."

I duck my head, pleased by the compliment. "It's nothing special, just a little recipe I picked up along the way."

"Don't sell yourself short, Anastasia. Everything you do is special."

We settle at the small table, sipping our drinks in companionable silence. The chocolate is rich and smooth on my tongue, the hint of heat from the cayenne warming me from the inside out. Or maybe it's the way Ryan is looking at me over the rim of his mug, his eyes dark and intense.

"Tell me more about your dreams for the community center," he prompts, setting his mug down. "What would you do if funding wasn't an issue?"

I lean forward, my eyes sparkling with excitement as I outline my vision. "I'd love to add a wing dedicated to the arts—music rooms, a dance studio, a space for painting and crafts. So many of these kids have incredible talents, but they don't have the resources to explore them."

Ryan listens intently, his expression thoughtful. "It sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this."

"I have," I admit with a sigh. "But sometimes, it feels like an impossible dream. I mean, look at me—I'm just a small-town girl with big ideas and no way to make them happen."

"Hey," Ryan says softly, reaching across the table to take my hand. His touch is electric, sending sparks shooting up my arm. "Don't talk about my girl that way. You're amazing.”

My heart flutters at the way he calls me his girl.

I remember the way he looked earlier as he jacked off onto me, and my cheeks heat.

I look down, unable to meet his intense gaze at the memory.

I’m falling for Ryan. Hard and fast.