Page 14 of Naughty Santa

“No. I promise I’ll tell her soon. I just feel bad. She’s being very nice to me. So are you.”

Joe picked a piece of pasta out of the boiling water to test it. “I won’t say anything to Mom. And I’ll continue to be nice, but you should know, what I really want to do with you is be naughty.”

Paris gave up her hunt for glasses, lifted the bottle of wine straight to her mouth, and took a swig.

She eyed him as she swallowed and lowered the bottle, then hit him with one doozy of a question.

“Can you give me a good reason why we shouldn’t do that?”

CHAPTER 4

Joe turned backto the pot of spaghetti, pouring it into a strainer, her question hovering in the air, unanswered.

She was a pretty forthright person, the type to go for what she wanted, and the truth was…she wanted Joe. It hadn’t taken her long to decide, but sometimes things were just obvious.

Like Indiana being fucking cold in December. Like Fendi boots being impractical in the snow. Like tomato, garlic, and basil being one of the most perfect smells in the world.

Wanting Joe was just obvious. He was big, gorgeous, solid.

Nice.

That was the part that made her just a little hesitant.

Joe was super nice. That had been obvious from the moment she opened her eyes in that back room. He played Santa for the little kids in a tiny Indiana town, helped his mom raise his nephew, and was able and willing to literally pick a city girl up and carry her over the ice when she wore ridiculous footwear for the weather.

Paris had dated a nice guy before. For way too long, as a matter of fact. Her almost fiancé—her stomach clenched a little remembering that horrible night when he’d proposed—had been nice.

Romantic. Sweet.

He was the send roses, candlelight dinner, speak French kind of guy. Of course, he’d been French, so that had just been icing on the handsome, suave, European cake, but yeah, it had swept her off her feet a little. Or a lot.

The thing was…candlelight wasn’t the same thing as fire. Heat. Sparks. The passionate chemistry stuff she really wanted.

But it was really hard to break up with a nice guy, so she’d let the relationship run way longer than it should have.

Joe, however, was different. He wasn’t going to propose to her over a white tablecloth with a three-carat diamond ring and three dozen roses. He wasn’t going to propose at all. Period.

And if North Pole had a white-tablecloth restaurant—or a jewelry store for that matter—Paris would walk Main Street in her favorite red teddy with no coat or shoes on.

God, he’d spanked her butt. Her panties had been wet ever since. Then, she’d told him to spank it harder, and he had. Heat shot through her again just thinking about it. Joe’s big, calloused palm against her butt had been the hottest thing she’d felt in months. No. Years.

Because Victor, her French boyfriend, would never have done that.

Had he hit her with a dominant, take charge, sexy attitude, even just once, Paris might not have given him the shrill, horrified, “No!” at Patina, one of the most expensive restaurants in L.A. when he asked her to marry him. And she certainly wouldn’t have puked.

It was the most awful memory of her life. She loved that restaurant and now she could never go back.

Damn Victor.

She shoved thoughts of her ex away and let her thoughts drift back to the hot, blue-collar, small-town guy with the big hands he was willing to spank her with.

Paris watched him plate the spaghetti, as she lifted the bottle of wine to her lips again. She probably should have used a glass and offered him some too, but Joe didn’t strike her as a wine drinker. Beer. He was a beer guy for sure, she decided, watching the muscles of his back bunch as he lifted the plates from the counter. Then she let her gaze drift down to the tight ass behind the worn denim of his jeans and even farther down to the powerful thighs and long legs until she got to his feet. In boots. Common-sense, winter-weather-appropriate boots.

That were very big.

She might have wondered if that big hands, big feet, big dick thing was accurate, but she’d already had visual confirmation, thanks to Louis waking her up in the back room of the store…just in time.

A warm shiver went through her as she took another swallow of wine. She should probably slow down on the alcohol. With the lack of food and sleep, the wine was going to her head very quickly. Because she wanted him to spank her again and again and again.

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