Page 10 of Naughty Santa Daddy

“Stay put,” he growls as he presses the flat part of his knife against my cheek. “I’d hate to ruin such beauty, but I will if you don’t listen.”

I nod absently, not wanting to anger this monster more than he was before he walked into a kid’s birthday party with his buddies and weapons. He stares at me for a long time, and when his eyes swirl into light blue pools of liquid heat, I’m flung through time and space until I land in the back of a pickup truck with a camper shell and a hard body surrounding me.

“Goliath?”

Bolting upright, my breath seesaws in and out of my lungs, and sweat trickles down my back. I yank my hand from its spot nestled between my legs and quiver with lingering need.

“Who’s Goliath?”

I whip my head toward my bedroom door and groan when my cousin, Enzo, pushes off the doorframe and strides toward me with a knowing smirk on his stupid face.

“What?” I ask, doing my best to feign confusion and failing miserably.

Enzo flops down next to me and kicks his feet up like he owns the place. We were always close, and I love him dearly, but right now, I want to beat the shit out of him.

“One minute you’re tossing and turning like you’re scared to death,” he says casually. “And the next, you’re moaning the name Goliath.”

“N-No, I wasn’t.”

“Lie to yourself all you want, but don’t lie to me.” When I don’t say anything, he sighs. “I wondered if the nightmares would start back up.”

An involuntary shudder wracks my body. Enzo tries to wrap his arm around my shoulders, but I scoot away from him and get to my feet.

“I need a shower,” I announce as I traipse to my dresser to grab clean clothes. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to argue, but he surprises me when he stands and crosses the room.

“Welcome home, Alex.” Enzo kisses my cheek.

As soon as I’m alone, I make my way into the adjoining bathroom and lock the door behind me. I lean my hands on the counter and take in my reflection. The cut on my cheek is a stark reminder of what triggered my dreams of Emily and that horrible Saturday that changed my life and ended hers.

“Why?” I whisper to the girl in the mirror. She doesn’t answer, but I don’t expect her to. I’ve asked and asked and asked the same question a million times over the years, and I’ve long since given up on any resolution that’ll make it all make sense. “Fuck you,” I snap at the grown woman who still carries the invisible scars of a little girl forced to grow up way too fast. “Fuck you and your memories.”

I strip out of my clothes and step into the tiled shower. It takes a minute for the water to adjust to the right temperature, and as soon as the warmth cascades over me, I begin to relax for the first time since the shooting at the hospital.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last because simply thinking about the hospital brings a certain sexy biker to mind. An image of Goliath flashes in my brain, and almost instantly, I’m consumed with desperation to recreate the feeling of him filling me so completely.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Rather than debate with myself, I flatten my hand on my stomach and slide it down until the tips of my fingers are barely kissing my clit. Using my free hand, I brace myself against the wall. Every nerve ending buzzes with anticipation as I move my fingers ever so slightly downward.

“Mmm,” I moan, letting my head fall back.

It doesn’t take long for my body to convulse with release, and I make quick work of finishing my shower and getting ready for the day.

“There she is,” Mamá says with a wide smile. “I was beginning to think you were going to sleep the day away.”

Resisting the urge to point at the clock on the microwave and remind her that it’s only eight-thirty, I let her engulf me in a hug. “Morning,” I say.

“Coffee’s fresh, and there’s an omelet in the warming oven for you.”

“Thanks.”

I step around her to reach into the top cupboard for a coffee mug, but Enzo gently nudges me out of the way. “Go eat. I’ll get your caffeine.”

I smile gratefully and do as I’m told. Once I’m seated at the small table tucked into the breakfast nook, I dig into my food.

“Creamer, sugar, and a dash of coffee,” Enzo says as he sets a steaming mug of go-juice in front of me. “Just the way you like it.”

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