Chapter Eleven

December

The next two hours are a blur of police officers and robbery detectives. Blaze shows up at some point, and I repeat what happened to fifteen different people, all of whom ask me the same questions. When I suggest that they could get more done faster if they all listened the first couple of times instead of making me go through it fifteen different times, a steely-eyed detective gets cranky and hints that maybe we should go downtown to talk.

Alaric kicks everyone out after that, telling them that I've answered questions for long enough and I'm done for the night. When the detective objects, Blaze has to keep Alaric from going for his throat. They quickly decide they have enough information after that.

Given that the thieves had the code to the warehouse, and one of them got it from his sister's laptop, I don't think it'll be very hard to track them down anyway.

I call Jillian while Alaric walks Blaze out.

"Are you okay?" she cries as soon as she answers.

I texted her earlier to let her know what was going on, but we haven't had time to talk.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I promise, clutching the phone to my ear as I pace around Alaric's living room. His house in the Hills is beautiful. Modern furniture and sleek glass overlook the twinkling lights of the city below. The Christmas tree in the corner is nearly as big as the one at the office, and every bit as gorgeous. "Um, I'm with Alaric."

"Thank God," she sighs. "I've been worried to death."

"You didn't tell your dad, did you?"

I'm sure he'll know by morning, but I'd rather not deal with him right now. I don't want a lecture about how bad this looks for him or about how foolish Jillian and I were to think we could swap places. I couldn't exactly tell the police that I'm my sister, so there's no way to keep him from finding out that I've been interning in Jillian's spot. He's going to be thrilled by that information.

Frankly, I don't care anymore. I've spent half of my life trying to turn myself into someone he could be proud to call his stepdaughter, and it never worked. No matter how hard I tried, I always fell short. Family is so important to him…and yet I never seem to be family enough. I'm never good enough. So I'm not trying anymore.

Maybe I am clumsy. Maybe I'm awkward. Maybe I say things I shouldn't or don't always agree with him and whatever platform he's running on. No one said I had to be perfect. Family is supposed to love you even when you aren't. So for Christmas this year, I'm giving myself a gift. I'm giving myself permission to stop seeking his approval. I don't need it and I don't want it anymore.

I just want to live my life.

"Of course not," Jillian says. "But you know he's going to find out."

"I know. I don't care anymore."

"Wow. I actually think you mean that."

"I do." I smile my first real smile all day. "I've decided to take a page from your playbook and give myself a gift for Christmas."

"Oh, is it expensive?" she asks, making me laugh.

"Nope. It didn't cost a thing."

"Lame," she sing-songs.

Alaric steps back inside, drawing my attention to him. He moves with grace as he locks the door and sets the alarm, the muscles in his broad back bunching beneath his t-shirt.

My stomach flutters, heat unfurling inside me as I watch him. He's so damn beautiful to me. And not once has he ever made me feel like less than. He's a literal billionaire, with more power and influence than Cory could ever dream about holding. Yet this man has always treated me as if I'm worthy exactly as I am. He was proud to have me on his arm last night.

"I lied," I whisper, swallowing hard. "I decided to give myself two presents for Christmas."

"If one of them isn't Alaric Parrish, I'm hanging up on you," my sister says.

He turns as if he knows we're talking about him. Our eyes lock across the room. His are so warm, so full of concern and something deeper. Affection. Desire. Love? He didn't say it back earlier, but I think maybe he feels the same hot rush of emotion that I do. I think he's bound in the same net with me, connected to me in ways neither of us fully understands.

This man feels me in his soul, the same way I feel him in mine.

I cup my hand around the phone and whisper, "One of them is Alaric."

"Yes!" Jillian shouts.

Alaric arches a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

I disconnect as Alaric strides across the living room toward me, still wearing that sexy smirk.

"Jillian?" he asks.

I nod, bending to set my phone on the coffee table.

He stops in front of me. "You told her you'd call her tomorrow."

"I did," I whisper, my heart beating so loud I'm sure he hears it.

"Does this mean you're staying here tonight, angel?" His gaze runs across my face, full of hope.

"Well, that depends."

"On what?" he growls.

"On whether your invitation from last night still stands." I lick my lips, trying to work moisture back into my mouth. "Because I decided what I want from you, Alaric."

"Yeah?" His hand curves around my hip, pulling me closer. "What's that, temptress?"

"You," I whisper. "I just want you."

"Fuck." Heat flares as bright as the sun in his eyes, scorching me as he yanks me closer. I topple into him, and his hands tangle in my hair, craning my head back.

"I'm already yours, December. I've just been waiting for you to realize it." His mouth slants down on mine, claiming mine in a kiss that soothes all the jagged edges of my heart, stitching them back together.

I grasp his shoulders, trying to hold myself upright as my knees tremble beneath me, threatening to give out. Our tongues dance together, and reality spins away, taking everything but him with it.

"Alaric," I whisper, trying to tell him how good he makes me feel. But I think he already knows.

He bends slightly, scooping me into his arms. Somehow, he manages to keep kissing me the whole time, as if he can't stop himself. There's so much power in him, so much need, and I've finally given him permission to unleash it on me.

He stumbles into the wall on the way up the stairs, growling against my lips as his hands slip beneath my shirt. I moan at the electric feel of his skin against mine, already dancing a knife's edge of need. He makes me feel so much. It's overwhelming and addicting at the same time.

"Yes," I whisper as he pins me to the wall halfway up the staircase to drag my shirt off over my head.

His hands close over my breasts, pushing them together. His dark eyes meet mine as he dips his head. His teeth close around my right nipple.

"Alaric!" I sob in ecstasy, caught in his wicked gaze. "Oh, God."

His lips curve into a smile that's pure sin. "Oh, angel." He tugs my bra down to expose my breasts. "One day soon, I'm going to put clamps on these perfect little things to see how wild I can drive you."

"Do it now," I whimper.

He pinches my left nipple, and I sob. "I'm not putting clamps on you tonight, December," he growls. "It's your first time."

"Please." I squirm beneath his touch, so turned on I don't care what he does to me. I want it. All of it.

He curses, rocking his hips into me. "You need to come, don't you, angel?"

"Yes!"

He peels me away from the wall and stumbles up the stairs. At least he tries. Near the top, I bite his neck, desperate to make him feel even a tenth of the ache currently ripping through me.

"Goddamn," he roars, dropping to his knees right there. Somehow, he makes it up the last two steps before he lays me out on the plush rug.

His body veers away from mine for a moment and something clatters to the floor. Before I can open my eyes to find out what, he's back, pressing his hard body to mine.

"Arms up," he growls against my lips.

I obediently lift them over my head, my back arching when he dips his head to bite my nipple again. Two seconds later, he wraps a strand of Christmas tinsel around my wrists, loosely binding them with the pliable, festive plastic. He ties the loose end to the balcony.

"Maybe now you'll behave." He carefully checks to make sure he didn't tie it too tightly. He didn't. Once he's satisfied, he gives me that sexy smirk, his eyes running over me. "Mm. It looks better on you than on the staircase, sweet December."

"Alaric," I groan.

"You bit me."

"I'm sorry."

"Liar. You aren't sorry yet, but you will be." He kisses a trail down my body, using his lips, and teeth, and tongue to drive me wild. Just when I think he's going to kiss any of the places I desperately need him to go, he moves away, tormenting me. Within minutes, my entire body aches with the need to come. Every kiss, every lick, every touch feeds the frenzy, driving me higher.

"I'm sorry," I sob, breaking beneath him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Now, you mean it," he murmurs against my skin, placing a sweet kiss to my belly. "Now, you get to come, angel." He reaches for my leggings, slowly peeling them down. He takes my panties with them.

I lift my hips, eager to get them off.

"Careful, sweet December," he croons when I wince. "Your knee is banged up." He gently works them over my scraped knee and then presses his lips to the scratches he doctored earlier. They aren't deep, but they burn.

I shiver beneath his touch.

"You feel me everywhere, don't you?"

"Yes."

His lips quirk into a smile. "I like knowing that. I want you to feel every touch, every moment." He runs his hands up my thighs, parting them. "I intend to wreck you."

"W-wreck me," I whisper. "I want it, Alaric."

"Fuck," he groans, his gaze settling on the wet, needy flesh between my legs. He pushes his way between my thighs as if in a trance, unable to look away. "I want to eat it. Tell me I can eat it."

"Yes," I sob."

He growls, lowering himself to the floor. His eyes hold mine in silent command as he flicks his tongue out and takes his first long lick of me. I shout his name, babbling it to the heavens as a bolt of pure decadence shoots through me.

He makes a sound I'll never forget and clutches me to him. I thought he kissed me like he intended to get me addicted to him, but I was wrong. He eats me like I'm the last meal he'll ever taste. He makes love to my pussy with his mouth, his eyes locked on me the whole time. I feel every lick, every touch, every moment.

I come on his tongue, screaming his name.