Page 9 of My Secret Santa Mason

Cami made me want to forget all that. She made me want to take chances I had no business taking. And that scared the shit out of me.

I slammed my fist against the table, the sudden pain grounding me. I couldn’t let myself get drawn into her orbit. I’d made that mistake before—letting someone get close, letting my guard down. It never ended well. And with Cami, it wouldn’t just be bad—it would be catastrophic. She deserved better. She deserved someone who could offer her more than late-night regrets and a lifetime of looking over their shoulder.

But now I was stuck. Stuck playing this stupid game, stuck having to talk to her, stuck wanting her in ways that were as dangerous as a loaded gun with the safety off. And no amount of pacing, cursing, or self-control was going to change that.

I stomped to the shower and turned the water on, letting it run hot.

I’d kitted my place out with water and electricity. I’d lived in the forest for the past decade, sure, but that didn’t mean I had to act like a fucking caveman.

Now, I didn’t even turn on the cold water before I kicked off my clothes and stepped under the spray. The hot water pierced my skin like a thousand needles, and the bathroom steamed up so that I couldn’t see anything. And that just backfired in my face because instead of forgetting about Cami, the heat of the water made me hotter. And instead of seeing anything else around me, I flashed on her face.

God, I wanted to get her alone. I wanted to grab her chin, tilt her head up so I could fall into those eyes. I wanted to nibble on her lower lip, kiss her. Let my tongue slide into her mouth and pull her close so her body pressed against mine.

I wanted to work my way down her slender neck and peel away the layers of winter clothes she wore until her smooth, milky skin was bare.

I groaned, the lust building inside of me almost too much to bear. My cock was already thick and hard, standing at attention, begging for a release. I wrapped my fingers around my shaft and hissed as I gripped it tightly. I wanted to push Cami against a wall, lift a leg, and push my cock into her. Slowly, I pumped my hand up and down my shaft. Being inside of her would be so much better than my rough palm, and I pumped faster as I thought about her naked breasts jiggling as I fucked her. I wanted to squeeze them and play with her nipples, tugging at them, twisting them until she cried out with pleasure. I wanted to hear her gasp and moan and beg for more.

I braced my other hand against the wall, leaning over as the pleasure slowly built. I wanted to come all over her, mark her as mine.

A little voice in the back of my mind screamed at me it would be stupid. She could never be mine. But fuck, this was just a fantasy, and I wanted to claim her again and again.

I pumped my hand faster still, the water cascading over my shoulders like a waterfall, and I groaned as I thought about having her on her back, her legs wrapped around my waist, hair splayed over my pillow.

I wanted to kiss her neck. Suck it. Scrape my teeth over it. I wanted to wrap my hand around her throat, feel how delicate she was despite her obvious strength.

But Cami deserved to be treated with respect. As much as I wanted to fuck her rough, I would never do anything to hurt her. I just wanted to give her every possible pleasure I could.

And fuck, did I want to give her pleasure.

I thought about sliding a finger into her pussy, stroking her soft, wet folds, and teasing her clit.

Fuck.

My orgasm exploded through me. I came so hard that my cock pulsed, and I gasped for breath.

It took me a minute to recover. I washed myself; the water had cooled off as the hot water ran out.

Damn it, maybe now it would be out of my system.

Maybe now I could think straight.

I turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing for a towel. Despite the release, my cock was still hard, and fucked if it had helped me stop thinking about her at all.

It hadn’t.

Cami wasn’t the kind of woman you could just forget. She was in my head, my blood, and if I wasn’t careful, she’d be the death of me.

But I’d be damned if I let anyone know that. Least of all her.

5

CAMI

Hank Garrison’s General Store was alive with holiday spirit as we crept closer and closer to Christmas. Now that it was December, the world was completely covered in snow, and it was a winter wonderland out there. Every inch of Silver Ridge had been transformed into something straight out of a fairy tale.

Despite the freezing cold—I wasn’t used to the harsher Montana winters after making a life in Denver, where it was at least fifteen degrees warmer—I loved every minute of it.

The old shop had been a staple in Silver Ridge for generations, and now, with Christmas around the corner, it was brimming with wreaths, twinkling lights, and rows of festive knick-knacks. Hank had asked me to “work my magic” on it, as he’d called it. He’d asked for me to bring the same festive cheer as in the diner, and I was more than happy to oblige.

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