Page 12 of Santa's Candy

“I’m beginning to figure that out. Actually, if I’m honest, I guess I figured it out a long time ago. I didn’t want to admit it.”

“Why?”

“Because…admitting you weren’t done with me would make me face that I kept running away and I was a coward and maybe, I was hurting you. And it hurts me to think of hurting anyone else—even you. Probably especially you. Again, if I’m honest.”

“Always be honest with me,” he said in a low voice, the same timbre that had all my pleasure centers scrambling to high alert. Even at that moment, my toes curled, and I was horribly tempted to tell himyes, sir.That wasn’t happening.

I settled for, “Yes, Santa,” which seemed like a good middle ground. And Pax clearly like it. His lips twitched, and he shook his head.

“I swear to God, little elf, don’t make me pull over this truck.”

“Why? What will happen if you do?”

Pax didn’t answer, just glanced over his shoulder and changed lanes. A moment later, he took the exit ramp. My eyes widened, and my lips parted as I stared at him. He didn’t explain, just pulling into the first parking lot. After throwing the truck into park, he reached over to unclick my seatbelt.

“Get over here,” he growled, already pulling me to straddle his lap. His hands buried in my hair while he ravaged my mouth, and I didn’t find it to be the punishment he’d implied it would be.

His hand splayed on my ass, squeezing and pulling me closer to the hard ridge in his jeans. He made short work of the closure of my pants then wedged his hand inside. His fingers glided through my slick folds, and at least two of his fingers plunged inside me.

“Ride,” he ordered.

“Here?” I squeaked.

“Is that the answer you’re supposed to give? Give me the right words.”

“Yes, Santa,” I moaned.

“That’s my good little Candy Cane.”

His thumb flicked over me, and I spasmed around the digits filling me, already well on my way to a climax. God, how had I denied us this? It was everything I’d never dared hope.

My hips rocked on his hand, and I groaned, knowing I was powerless to him. Because I liked it that way. I did. I wanted it, and Ilikedit. Ilikedbeing his.

Nine

Candace

Though it had been cold and snowy on our way home, the annual Christmas Party, in the neighborhood where our families lived, was held outdoors. In the way of Michigan weather, over the span of a day, temperatures could swing from frigid to nearly balmy. That was the case for Christmas day that year.

The six houses on the cul-de-sac all had their garage doors open, propane patio heaters abounded in each driveway and along sidewalk, and the Ward family, who owned a DJ business, had Christmas music blasting through a big sound system. The end of the court was blocked off, allowing only foot traffic, and each home featured a different array of food and small gifts for visitors. A dance floor had been set up in the middle of the street.

The whole area was busy, with visitors from all over the subdivision partying with us at what had been an annual affair for the past fifteen years. Though it had the feel of a summer block party, everyone dressed up in their holiday best.

Pax looked amazing in a tailored black suit with a red tie, and my mom had indeed bought me a fancy dress because the pants and blouse I’d plannedwould not do. My dress was black, too, but the full skirt had a petticoat and red lace flares, and the fitted bodice was crisscrossed with ribbons in the same shade ofred. The fabricshooshedwith each move I made, and I found I didn’t hate how ultra-feminine it made me feel. Pax’s eyes going dark and the hungry look on his face when he’d seen me in it hadn’t hurt, either.

His arm had been a near constant presence around my waist. It made me antsy in several ways. His warmth and familiar spicy scent held me in a secure bubble, and I wanted him again, even though we’d made good use of our hotel room during the small window of free time we’d had earlier today. I still wasn’t used to this public intimacy between us, though. Neither were all the people who’d known us for years.

“About time,” Mrs. Ward said as she passed by with a cup of the spiked eggnog punch from the Plinkerton’s house. “I was thinking you two would never figure this thing out.”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Ward,” Pax returned. “Good to see you.”

“Yes, Merry Christmas,” I echoed.

“How long are you two home?” she asked, and I knew she was asking for the whole cul-de-sac. There were no secrets around here. I was actually surprised she didn’t already know since she was friends with our moms.

“Until the fourth. We have to be back the following Monday.”

“You’re still teaching together at the same school?”

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