Free Mistress Christmas by Lorelei James

work, being front and center all the time, that you’d be more of a diva.”
    Holly snorted. Diva. Not exactly a word used to describe an accountant. But her body slumped when she realized Nick wasn’t talking about her real career, but her supposed wild life as a stripper. Another mental snort sounded.
    Come clean with him, he’ll understand.
    Right. Part of her thought he might accept her as Holly, the woman hot with numbers, but a larger part suspected it was Holly, the hot number, who held his interest.
    “Holls?”
    No one but her closest friends ever called her that and it tickled her to hear the endearment coming from him. “I thought you were gonna turn on the jets?”
    “I was until you sorta drifted off. Thinking too much again?”
    “No. I’m just relaxed.”
    “Good. Jets coming right up.”
    Bubbles frothed and Holly closed her eyes, wondering if the water temperature, the sexual satisfaction, or the man’s silent, comforting presence allowed her to loosen up so thoroughly. Her body went boneless. Nothing existed except the humid scent of the water, the blub blub blub of the whirlpool, and the quiet strength of the man holding her.
    After a while the timer dinged and the jets turned off. She arched her back and her butt pressed into the erection that hadn’t deflated a bit since they’d been skin-to-skin in the shower.
    “More bubbles?”
    “No. I’m good.”
    “You wanna get out?”
    “Why’re you being so accommodating?” she teased.
    “Because I have a beautiful nekkid woman plastered against me. Brings out my chivalrous side.” Nick kissed the spot below her ear. “It’s a part of my personality I usually keep hidden.”
    “Why?”
    “Don’t we all have aspects of ourselves we don’t share with the world at large?”
    Holly shrugged. “I guess.”
    “So…tell me something about yourself that no one else knows.”
    That was an odd request. “Why?”
    “It’ll be fun hearing your deeply hidden thoughts.”
    “If I share, that means you will too?”
    “Yep. Turnabout is fair play. Come on. Tell me a secret.”
    She frowned. “A secret like I stole a piece of candy when I was five and never got caught?”
    “Is that true?”
    “No. I’ve never stolen anything in my life.” Was it her imagination or did Nick’s posture stiffen?
    Lightly, he said, “I was actually thinking a juicier tidbit. You know. Like you secretly jump on a trampoline in your backyard nekkid. Or you spent a weekend at a nudist colony. Or you went skinny-dippin’ in the neighbor’s pool when he was out of town.”
    “Why am I naked in all your scenarios?”
    Nick trailed his hand from the tip of her fingers to her forearm, across her bicep in a sensual glide. Her skin rippled beneath his slow and steady touch. “Because I like picturing you nekkid, even when you’re already nekkid in my arms.”
    “I hate to disappoint you, but I haven’t done anything nearly that daring.” She paused, half-afraid she’d disappoint him if she didn’t confess to an outlandish and stripper-worthy scenario.
    “Nothin’? Come on, spill it. I ain’t gonna judge you.”
    “Well. This one time? At band camp?”
    He chuckled against her neck and it sent tingles down her front, her back and everywhere in between.
    “Smarty-pants.”
    “The truth is, you’ve got the wrong idea about me, Nick. I’ve never done anything wild. This”—her gesture incorporated the bathroom—“being here with you, having sex with a perfect stranger, is the most adventurous thing I’ve ever done.”
    She suspected his silence meant he didn’t believe her.
    “Seriously. I’m hopelessly square.”
    “I beg to differ.” Nick smoothed his palm over the line of her hip. “There’s not a square thing about you. You’re all exquisite, tempting curves. I could just eat you up, sweet darlin’.”
    “Didn’t you already do that?”
    “Once ain’t enough.” He squeezed her ass between his powerful thighs and his cock twitched