Page 12 of Texting My Secret Santa

I leave her before I do something I’ll regret. She looks half-broken as I step away, as if all the memories have resurfaced. She might say it’s fine, but it doesn’t feel authentic. I bet she’s been lingering on those memories far more than she’ll let on.

That makes what I do even worse.

While I lie in bed with my eyes closed, I picture her dressed as she was in the gym. Her scent returns to me. Maybe it was perfume, shampoo, or perhaps it was just her. It was appealing on a primal, physical level.

I slide my hand down my body, grip my stiffness, and stroke it as I think of her plump ass. I imagine her leaning against the weight rack, looking at me over her shoulder, biting her lip, her aquamarine siren eyes tempting, beckoning me to all kinds of betrayal.

My hand pumps faster. Forbidden heat makes my rod rock hard. It’s like I can feel her core kissing my tip as I sink deeper into my imagination. She’d smooth her hand over her ass, looking at me with the same sassiness that gripped her when she hid my clothes.

“What are you waiting for?”

Suddenly, I stand up. Wet release infuses every inch of my dick. I’m so close to exploding.

If I cross this line, I’m damned. I’ve fucked my relationship with Dan and any chance I had at ignoring this feeling.

So far, I have done nothing. I can lie to myself and pretend I’m innocent.

I rush down the hallway into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I stare at my reflection: at the gray in my hair, into the same blue eyes that strip the years away, taking me back to the early days when it was Dan and me against the world. Holly was a background figure flitting about with her camera.

“Get it together, man,” I growl.

CHAPTER 5

HOLLY

Oh, heck …

This is so wrong. He’s my brother’s best friend.

This will get me on the naughty list, one thousand percent.

I’ve gone too far now. I’m rubbing my hand quickly up and down my core, stroking my wetness over my sex. My nub is aching like it’shishand touching me. I remember the gym, how he towered over me, staring with those captivating eyes, almost like he was going to lean down and kiss me.

I have very little experience, but my imagination doesn’t need it. My sex is so hot. In my mind, he’s in his towel, steam rising from him, the same steam moving through me. I bite down as the orgasm hits me.

I imagine squeezing my hands on his chest, my fingernails bending against his firmness, his powerful muscles swelling. This make-believe version of Asher groans and whispers in my ear,“You’re perfect …”

Sitting up, I quickly rush into my en suite, strip naked, and jump into the shower. I turn the temperature up so hot. It’s boiling. Maybe I can wash away what I just did.

That was all kinds of wrong. I can’t ever let something like that happen again. I need to have more discipline. When I got into bed, I couldn’t help myself. It was the way he was looking at me in the gym.

I leave for work early the next day. I don’t want to ride with Dan and Asher. It’d be too awkward. It’s not like they’ll know what I did, but I feel like it’s written on my forehead, and one look at me will give the game away.

In the office, I hunker down for some editing work.

When the Secret Santa phone vibrates, I debate not checking it. I enjoy texting this stranger. It’s easy and uncomplicated—all the things that Asher isnot. Well,he’s not Asher. That shouldn’t make any difference. It should make it easier to text him, but it doesn’t.

Who can ignore a text, though? I haven’t got superhuman willpower.

My Secret Santa:Why are you so enthusiastic about Christmas, Miss Goody Two-shoes?

Me:Why do you hate it so much, Grinch?

My Secret Santa:That would involve getting into some depressing territory, he replies.You’re happy, positive, and excited. That seems like it might be more upliftingthan my tale. The last thing I’d ever do around this time of year is bring you down.

Me:That intrigues me even more, you know. Are you really interested?

My Secret Santa:I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.

---