Page 2 of Curvy Girl for Santa

I whirl around, a witty retort on my tongue, but the words evaporate at the smoldering look in his arctic eyes. He's so close I can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jawline. I wonder what it would feel like abrading my sensitive skin as he?—

A low whistle interrupts my forbidden fantasies. "Wow, you two sure got a lot done! Looks great!"

Kevin, one of the volunteers, stands in the doorway, his eyes wide as he takes in the transformed room. Spell broken, I force a smile.

"Ahem." Kevin clears his throat from across the room, snapping us out of our charged bubble. "So, looks like that storm is getting pretty gnarly out there."

I blink, disoriented, and step away from Ryan's heat. Glancing out the frosty window, my eyes widen at the swirling white squall blanketing everything in sight. When did thathappen? I've been so wrapped up in Ryan I didn't even notice the weather turn from flurry to blizzard.

"Wow, you're right. It's really coming down." A thrill chases down my spine at the prospect of being snowed in with Ryan, followed by a shot of apprehension. Spending the night alone with him could be dangerous. Deliciously dangerous.

"Guess we better bunker down and keep warm, huh?" Ryan winks at me, his meaning crystal clear. Molten heat pools low in my belly.

"I suppose so," I murmur, busying myself with straightening the ornaments. Trying desperately not to imagine all the sinful ways he could keep me warm.

Kevin shuffles his feet. "Um, if you guys don't need me anymore, I think I'll try to head out before it gets worse. I got my four-wheel drive outside, so I should be fine getting home considering how close I live."

Part of me wants to beg him to stay, to preserve some semblance of propriety. But the wicked voice in my head cheers at the thought of finally being alone with my Santa Charming.

"Oh, of course, Kevin." I paste on what I hope is a reassuring smile. "You go on home. Ryan and I will finish up here. Drive safe!"

He hesitates, eyes darting between me and Ryan. "You sure?"

"Positive," Ryan answers smoothly, his tone brooking no argument. "I'll take excellent care of Anastasia. Don't you worry."

Oh lord. The way he says it, like a dark promise, sends shivers cascading down my spine. I have a feeling he intends to do a lot more than trim the tree with me tonight.

And part of me thrills at the thought, but then there’s that other part of me—that unsurevirginpart of me—that hesitates.

Kevin lingers another moment, then shrugs. "Alright then. You two stay warm. See you at the party!"

With a jaunty wave, he zips his coat and pushes out into the snowy night.

I turn back to find Ryan looking at me with a decidedly wolfish grin, and my stomach flutters.

Seemingly unperturbed by the news, Ryan simply grins. "I'm sure we'll find some way to pass the time. Right, Anastasia?"

The way he says my name, like a filthy promise, nearly brings me to my knees.

Lord help me.

two

?. . .?

Ryan

She's a goddess.An angel of light and warmth, with curves that could bring a man to his knees. And fuck, do I want to fall at her feet and worship her. The way Anastasia moves, the gentle sway of her hips, the bounce of her perfect tits, it's driving me wild. I ache to strip off this ridiculous Santa costume and show her what a real man feels like.

I've known her all of five minutes but already, I'm lost. Ensnared by her goodness, her giving spirit. It radiates from her like the glow radiates from her like the glow of a crackling fire, inviting me closer, tempting me to bask in her light. But I can't let her see the darkness in me. Not yet.

I'm a selfish bastard for even thinking I could have her. That I could taint her sweetness with my jaded soul. But God, I want to. I want to paint her body with my kisses, unravel her with my touch until she's shaking and desperate, begging for release. I want to hear my name fall from her lush lips as I make her come undone.

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to focus on hanging the damn garlands, and not on the tantalizing hints of cleavage peeking from her sweater. It's going to be a long fucking night.

"Oh!" Her soft gasp snaps my head toward her. She's reaching for the top of the tree, stretching onto her tip toes, an ornament in hand. Her sweater rides up, revealing a strip of creamy skin.

I'm behind her before I can blink, crowding her space, breathing in her scent of cinnamon and woman. "Let me," I rumble. Plucking the ornament from her fingers, I lean over her to place it on the highest bough, my chest grazing her back.

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