Page 25 of The Santa of the Mountain

I haven’t movedsince Cole left, and I don’t want to, lest it shatter the dream my brain has concocted. It must be a dream. A lucid, realistic dream because there’s no way a man like Cole would ever look at me the way he looks at me.Touchme the way he touches me. And cause my body to react so strongly.

I don’t recognize myself when I’m around him. As though I’ve lost all inhibitions. Like he’s a drug, and one taste of him reveals what I really want. And what I really want ishim.

When he opened that door, I thought I was losing my mind. But as it turns out, I think I was finding it. Finding the part of me that I’d buried deep inside. I’ve spent most of my adult life making sure other people are happy. Making my client’s dreams come true. Making my sister’s dream come true. All the while I’ve set mine aside. But for the first time, I’m not ignoring them any longer.

I want Cole. I need Cole.

When I finally move, my muscles ache. I’m not sure how long I’ve been standing here but my eyes are dry and my throat is parched so I head for the living room to grab the tea I’d abandoned.

It’s dark, the room lit only by the fire. The storm’s still raging. Wind and snow swirl against the cabin as the walls creak and moan. And moan… My body lights up. That’s not wood moaning against the wind. That’s animalistic. The kind of moaning… I swallow, forgetting all about my tea as I turn around and listen to Cole moan.

I shouldn’t. The old Katewouldn’t.But before I have a chance to protest my feet move, one after the other. My socks slide silently across the wood floor.

The moaning gets louder. Pained. And then my body ignites as I glance through the crack in the door, Cole’s massive cock strangled between a meaty hand. Stroking. Thick fingers kneading himself as he grunts. They’re deep but muffled, and when I raise myself onto my toes, I see why.

Cole’s smothering his face with my sweater, writhing as he pumps his cock and guttural, animalistic cries rent the air. My name. He’s moaning it again and again. Like he’s pleading for me. I’ve never felt so turned on. So acutely aroused. A single brush of his finger against my clit could send me over the edge.

But then he growls. Something chesty that rattles my body. And he tears my sweater from his face and stops stroking. He’s panting, hard and fast, and I need to get out of here. I shouldn’t be watching. I shouldn’t enjoy this as much as I do. I never thought I could drive a man that far.

I slip back into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me. I take a few shaky breaths before I feel Cole moving through the cabin. His footfalls are slow but deliberate, each one landing with a resounding thump. I hit the light switch and then creep back into bed, pulling the covers to my chin as he stops outside the door.

It feels like hours pass, but it can’t be more than a few seconds. The handle rattles and the door creaks open slowly. I risk a glance and my body reignites all over again when I see himshirtless. Pantless, except for underwear. Big muscles bulging. Another bulge between his legs.

I seal my eyes shut but his image is seared into my mind.

One step. Two steps. I count each one he takes as he closes the gap between us. His scent fills my nostrils as he stands next to me. I swear he must hear my heart beating. And then I feel his fingertips, brushing the hair off my face, and then again across my cheeks.

“Good night, my little miracle,” he whispers. The urge to grab him rockets through me, but I resist. And good thing because his lips press against my forehead, searing my skin like a brand.

My vision is nothing but twinkling Christmas lights as I do my best to hold back the moan collecting in my throat. God, I’ve never had a forehead kiss that felt so sensual. One more and I might unravel. But then Cole turns around and leaves me in a muddled mess of nerves and need and desire.

It’s so unfair. I want to pout. I want to scream like some inconsolable toddler who isn’t getting what they want. But a few minutes after Cole leaves, I calm myself.

He wants me. I want him. And that blizzard isn’t going away anytime soon.

One more sleep ’til Christmas…

“How’d you sleep?” Cole asks as he slides a stack of pancakes in front of me.

I glance at them, salivating because not only do they look amazing with a fat pad of butter and syrup galore, but I’m starving after not eating anything last night. I’m hoping my next attempt goes a little better.

“Soundly,” I say.

Translation: Not at all.

I couldn’t getitorhimout of my head. I tossed and turned, and eventually, I fell asleep but I can’t say for how long. I can’t even tell the time now because it’s still gray out. Snow’s coming down but at a manageable rate.

“Good to hear,” Cole says, turning around and heading back to the stove.

Apparently, we’re not going to talk about what happened last night. He’s going to pretend the pained cries from his bedroom as he palmed his… Well, cock doesn’t even seem right. Penis. No. That’s not a penis. That’s a damn weapon of vaginal destruction.

“What about you?” I ask, prodding him as I prod my pancakes hesitantly.

At the rate I’m going, I’ll likely find some way to choke on these pancakes. Cole will have to give me the Heimlich, breaking a rib or three in the process. Then onward to the emergency room by dog sled because there’s no way a truck could make it through snow this deep. And if we’re lucky, we’d only have to outrun a single avalanche on our journey.

“A little rough falling asleep, but once I finally relaxed, I was out.”

My fork scrapes against the ceramic plate like nails against the chalkboard. There’s nothing odd about his statement, but after what I saw last night, it’s taking on a completely different meaning.

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