The Christmas Secret Read online

  The Christmas Secret

  Book 1: The Craving Christmas Series

  By Kristen Kelly

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE CHRISTMAS SECRET

  First edition. December 10, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Kristen Kelly.

  Written by Kristen Kelly.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One | Abigail

  Chapter Two | Chase

  Chapter Three | Abby

  Chapter Four | Chase

  Chapter Five | Abigail

  Chapter Six | Abigail

  Chapter Seven | Chase

  Chapter Eight | Chase

  Chapter Nine | Abby

  Chapter Ten | Chase

  Chapter Eleven | Chase

  Chapter Twelve | Abby

  Chapter Thirteen | Abby

  Chapter Fourteen | Chase

  Chapter Fifteen | Abby

  Chapter Sixteen | Chase

  Chapter Seventeen | Abby

  Chapter Eighteen | Chase

  Chapter Nineteen | Abby

  Chapter Twenty | Chase

  Chapter Twenty-one | Abby

  Chapter Twenty-two | Chase

  Chapter Twenty Three | Abby

  The End

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  Further Reading: Blue Angel

  Also By Kristen Kelly

  Chapter One

  Abigail

  Life just wasn’t fair.

  Why did my Ex have to be so freaking hot?

  And an asshole!

  I muttered this last part to myself while I walked down the hall of offices belonging to Remington Enterprise.

  As I turned the corner, I saw my ex-husband in his leather office chair, feet crossed on the antique, mahogany desk, hands clasped behind his head. He was humming to the radio. As if he had all the time in the world.

  He didn’t. I should know. I used to be his girl Friday. That is, until we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

  My boss, for that was what he became in more ways than one, somehow got me naked shortly after our interview. Women just didn’t say no to Chase Remington. I guess I went a little insane, if you want to know the truth. I’d already accepted the job so I didn’t have to sleep with the man, but he was so-hot in more ways than one. The job wasn’t bad either. The pay was great and I had my own company car. So why had I jumped into the lion’s den? I didn’t have an answer for that one.

  I paused right by Chase’s door, which was open. Then I tipped my chin up just a tad before strolling to my own office two doors down. I could see the bulge, just below his naval through his grey woolen slacks. I bit my bottom lip and squeezed my thighs together. God, I missed him.

  Chase Remington was as yummy as they came. Tall and lean with a dazzling smile that reminded me of one of those European sculptures you see in a museum. Hyacinth blue eyes, and a body that made anything he wore—suits, jeans, sweats—look like gift wrapping on his gorgeous body.

  He was a powerful man. No one, least of all women, took Chase Remington for granted, and he was used to getting his way. I’d be willing to bet he’d never heard the word no in his entire rich existence. Not until I divorced him.

  Just as I rounded the door into my office, I heard his size eleven feet slam down on the hard, wood floor with a tremendous thud.

  “Oh God,” I said, getting a mental picture. I ducked into my office fast. The sound of his feet hitting the floor sounded like a desk rocking on its legs. Or the first time he took me against his desk, our bodies joined in pure carnal activity. His hands had been relentless, and our chemistry had been off the charts. Chase was attentive, loving, and downright insatiable in bed. Or on the desk. In a chair. Even in a restaurant once. Blazing heat filled my core. It sizzled along my skin.

  A few minutes later, there was a knock on my door. Without waiting for my response, Chase opened it slowly and peeked in.

  “Abigail?”

  Normally I would scream at him for invading my privacy, but when I saw the look on his face, I kept my nasty comments to myself. “What is it, Mr. Remington?”

  “So I’m Mr. Remington now, huh?” He leaned against the wall, all cocky and self-assured.

  “Well, you are my boss. I think it’s only fit to address each other with respect. Just because we’re divorced doesn’t mean we can’t have some dignity.” It sounded good. Maybe it would satisfy my libido.

  His face fell and the spark I’d come to know and love disappeared from his eyes. He came around my desk and then perched himself on the edge, crossing his ankles as he regained some of his confidence. Again, like he owned the place, which he sort of did.

  “Something you want, Mr. Remington?”

  “Awe, Abby. Don’t be like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “All cold and stuff.”

  It hadn’t been that long since our divorce and we still saw each other most days. Truth be known, I was trying my best not to throw my arms around him, snuggle into that broad warm chest of his, and tell him I’d made a mistake. I hadn’t, but the wounds were still fresh, making me weak.

  “I’m not cold, Mr. Remington,” I said, trying not to show any emotion.

  He grinned, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll make a deal with you. Don’t call me Mr. Remington, and I won’t call you Mrs. Remington.”

  “I’m not Mrs. Remington. Or did you forget that?”

  He rubbed his chin. “No. I think about it every minute of every day. I keep going it over in my head wondering what it was that I did to make you hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  Oh God. Had I really been that much of a bitch to him?

  I had to be strong. I needed to be strong.

  “Abigail,” he said coming closer. “We have to work together, can’t we get along?”

  “Of course. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “You don’t plan on transferring, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  I loved my job and I didn’t think I should have to choose. Was it stupid of me to think we could remain in the same building working just a few feet from each other?

  His fingers trailed along my desk. “I miss you, Abigail. I miss you a lot.” His expression seemed sincere, and damn if he didn’t make me feel things I’d rather not feel right now.

  Shit, this wasn’t fair.

  “You should have thought about that before you screwed your ex-wife.”

  “I told you, that never happened!” There was desperation in his voice. A desperation I’d not heard at our divorce hearing three months earlier. We’d both been too angry at the time.

  “Maybe not, but you thought about it didn’t you?”

  That wasn’t the whole story. It was the way he looked at her. The way his hand trailed along her cheek. Their closeness. She were once in love, for God’s sake!

  “No,” he said, coming around to my side of the desk. “Abigail...” That rough and tumble voice of his. It sliced through my soul, cut the pulp out my heart, left me hollow and shaky. My lips stiffened and I crossed my legs so he wouldn’t smell my desire.

  When he covered my hand with his
own, squeezing it lightly, electric sparks singed my skin.

  “This so is not fair,” I said, pulling my hand away.

  “Abby, I love you and I’ll bet you still love me.”

  “Don’t! Don’t say those things!” I started to shake and the tears overflowed as I pushed back in my chair, which was fruitless because he simply moved closer. “You need to give time, Chase. Is that so much to ask?”

  “Actually, yes,” he said, shooting me a panty melting grin. It was so hot in here. Why the hell was it so hot in here?

  He moved closer and I had no choice but to get out of my chair and walk to the other side of the desk.

  He followed. “Just look at me, sweetheart. Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t still love me. Tell me that and I’ll never bother you again.”

  As he came near, there was nowhere for me to go but back up into the wall.

  It was cold against my back.

  I gasped, staring into those ice blue eyes of his as he caged me with his arms.

  God, I could smell his breath. Butterscotch and arousal. His hair was tussled like he’d just run his hands through it and he was licking his lips. Those full, full lips. Oh, how I wanted his hands on me. His fingers inside my panties. His breath along my...

  No, no, no! We’re divorced!

  Lifting my chin with one hand, he stared down, eyes searching. For what I didn’t know. Honesty? Forgiveness for breaking my heart?

  I wanted to forgive him. I really did. It would be so much easier on both of us, but for some reason, I couldn’t do that. Not yet anyway.

  I closed my eyes before I knew what was happening and tipped my head back. His lips sought out mine. I held on for dear life, put my heart on hold, and God help me, I kissed him back.

  His hands graduated to my neck. Thick, strong fingers raked my long hair, sending endorphins skittering along my hair follicles. Damn, I was weak, so hungry for him, desperate in my response, and my hands rose to grasp his arms, sliding upward and tracing the hands that held my head. Kissing and sucking. Tugging each other’s lips.

  When he pulled his mouth away, his teeth grazed my bottom lip, but he didn’t let go, still holding me like a vice. “Abigail,” he breathed and my heart jolted in my chest. If he would just remain silent, I could pretend we were someone else. Somewhere else. “Abby, we need to talk.”

  “No.”

  He kissed me again, and this time a hand slipped down between us, raising my skirt over my hips and then dipping inside my panties. A ragged quick gesture. I gasped and sex starved as I was, I spread my legs like a whore.

  “Tell me you don’t want this.”

  His fingers found my clit.

  “Tell me no and I’ll stop, Abigail.”

  “Oh God.” He kissed me deeper and his fingers did the same, lapping at my lips while his fingers went to work.

  A little mew escaped my lips as his chest pressed into mine. I could feel the beating of his heart. Broken. It was broken and I was the one responsible.

  I yielded my body. Like a magnet with no mind of its own, I gave him my soul.

  The more he stroked my pussy, the more turned on I became, heightened to an amazing proportion when he whispered in my ear. “You want this and you know it. You’re a dirty, dirty girl, Abigail and you want me to fuck you. You want me to fuck you hard and fast but you won’t let me because you’re angry, but you’ll let me fuck you like this. You’ll let me fuck you this way because you think there isn’t any intimacy behind it.”

  I was panting and squirming, the edge of my release driving me wild as I rose that long hard finger to the finish line.

  “I have news for you, baby,” he continued. His cheek was red hot, the skin moist with hot sweat pressed to the side of my own. “You still love me. It’s obvious to everyone but you. And I won’t stop until you realize that. Until then, I’ll have you any way I can. Do you hear me? Any. Fucking. Way.”

  “Oh God.”

  I clung to him for all I was worth, teetering in my heels and dizzy. I bit into his shoulder, drawing blood through his starched white dress shirt as he brought me close to climax.

  “Fucking come for me, baby!”

  My whole body shook with my release. The tremors along my nerves endings threw me over the edge, leaving me breathless and vulnerable, unable to say no.

  Seconds later, I couldn’t say no to what he wanted next, because I still hadn’t recovered from one of the most amazing mind-blowing orgasms of my life. I was like a rocket shot off into orbit. Unable to come back to earth in a timely fashion. God, how I’d loved that fucking ride!

  Addicts. That’s what we were. Addicts. It was always like this between us. Him taking what he wanted, and me letting him.

  With a single angry yank, he pulled off my panties, ripping them into shreds. He threw them over his shoulder, and then set me on my desk. “Spread your legs,” he demanded. He stepped back, admiring the view. “Move to the edge. Now, baby.”

  I wriggled forward. Even though I was open, he pushed my legs further and then bent me at the knees. Then he pushed me down gently until I was lying across my blotter.

  “Ah fuck. I’ve missed this view,” he growled before burying his head between my legs and lapping at my core. I wrapped my hands around his head, feeling his silky hair as the world around me started to sway.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Go away,” we both yelled, and then someone giggled on the other side, before Chase’s insistent mouth resumed tasting that glorious bundle of nerves between my legs. I leaned back on my elbows, watching his head move up and down. What was I doing? This was wrong. So wrong. I was never going to get over him like this, but one did not say no to Chase Remington.

  Then he unzipped his pants, took out his large deep-veined cock, and drove it home.

  The home we used to share.

  The home I could never resist.

  The home each of us had a hand at destroying.

  We were playing. I knew that, but on some unknown, deeper level, our lives were hopelessly tangled. It’s what happens when you marry your boss.

  Chapter Two

  Chase

  Shit, what just happened?

  I shut the door to my office, and glanced down at my open fly. The spot on my woolen slacks made me grin. I zipped them up.

  No woman, and I’d bedded plenty, had ever touched me with such unimaginable desire as Abigail Williams, the shy country flower from Nebraska.

  In the beginning it had been bliss. She’d been a virgin, but it didn’t take long for me to teach her a few things. She was hot for me twenty-four-seven. We did it everywhere. My office. Her office. Hell, I’d even fondled her to climax on a train. She was like...magic for my dick. The minute either of us was within twenty feet of each other, it was all we could do to keep our clothes on, and whenever I’d needed to take a business trip, she’d taken to tucking her panties in the breast-pocket of my suit. “To remember me in your board meetings,” she’d say. How she figured I’d get any work done with the smell of her cunt drifting into my nostrils was beyond me.

  Abby was the hottest, sweetest, best wife a man could ever ask for, and everyone in the company loved her. She baked cookies and pies for everyone’s birthday, and made sure we had fresh fruit and veggies every day. She organized company baseball games, threw wedding or baby showers on the company dime, and made sure that anyone who lost a loved one or had a birthday had the hugest bouquet of flowers delivered. She was a damned good cook too and I’d gained ten pounds since marrying her. I’d fucked all that up big time, but I was too stubborn to make her see that.

  My dick was sticking to my boxers and I’d debated with whether I should shower in my office or at home. Preferably with company. Judging by the look on Abby’s face after I’d come inside her pussy, she probably wouldn’t go for it, so I’d left, hoping I’d left some little swimmers behind.

  I tucked in my business.

  Shit, how long would this take to get over th
is addiction? I collapsed in my swivel, office chair. The leather gave a sad squelch. I placed my feet up once again, crossed my ankles, and stared out the huge plate glass window, thinking. For all my bravado with Abby, I still didn’t know anything for sure. Not whether she loved me still. Not even why she’d divorced me.

  I only went to her office to talk about the company Christmas party. I should have known the minute I closed the door, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  We were divorced for God’s sake! Wasn’t that the same as telling me she never wanted to have sex with me again? Or... What the hell did it mean, because I certainly was getting mixed signals. Loudly, too.

  She could have stopped me at any time, but she hadn’t. Okay, okay. Let’s think rationally about this. It was obvious neither of us was seeing anyone, and we’d always had a pretty healthy sex drive. I suspect we were both satisfying an itch.

  It was just like old times. That is until the O’Neil project, which seemed to consume a good chunk of my time in the six months before our divorce. Abby felt neglected, but she should have understood. She knew what I was like before she married me. Driven. A-personality. Hard-nosed. Remington Enterprises was as much a part of her as it was of me. Or so I thought.

  So how had this all gone—from me wanting to ask her if she was going to the Christmas party—to ripping off her panties and mauling her on a desk?

  Her smell!

  My greedy cock. That’s how. It had a mind of its own and absolutely no brain. Once it caught the scent of her lilac shampoo, the saltiness of her skin and obvious arousal, he leapt into the fray. Or was it something else entirely?

  Her window had been cracked, the scent of ozone almost like a rainstorm. Like the time she’d seduced me in the arboretum. We’d taken a trip to Canada on my company jet to oversee a building project and stopped to get some landscaping ideas at the Montreal Botanical Gardens. Turned out Abby had ideas of her own. She paid the manager to give us the keys and locked down the place. We screwed our living brains out. In the crook of trees. On stone benches. Even under a manmade waterfall. The Japanese garden had been her favorite, and when the sprinklers came on, I realized the absurdity of it all. We’d laughed like kids.