Page 8 of Cupid's Naughty Elf

“How dare you call me a liar?” The mock indignation doesn’t fool him one bit. It’s like a mouse teasing a lion. “I’ll have you know that...”

Every word dies on my lips as a calloused fingertip slides across the corner of my mouth, and my lips part, tongue peeking out, but before I can lick him, Liam steps away. His hands drop from my body, and his expression is at once stern. “Behave, Piper.”

“Or what?”

“Or this won’t end well for you.”

“I’m not afraid, Mr. Rutherford,” I muse before using that precise moment to examine every inch of the room. Am I doing this to annoy him? Absolutely, but the low growl that slips past his kissable lips is worth it as I peruse with purpose. From the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking what I know are white sandy beaches; a private stretch of shore illuminated by torches with a firepit set up for those wanting to enjoy the outdoor seating area.

Then, there’s the interior…

A posh winter wonderland with its shades of reds and greens with touches of gold.

The ballroom exudes elegance; its classic Christmas traditions meet modern sophistication with crimson and evergreen drapes cascading from the tall windows. The rich colors are highlighted by the soft glow of gilded crystal chandeliers overhead while the marble floors have been polished to a high gloss, reflecting the shimmering light as golden accents adorn the space.

There are candleholders, beautiful wreaths of fresh pine and red berries, and luxurious floral arrangements of deep red roses and holly. Amid the traditional, there are contemporary furniture pieces in shades of green and gold that provide a pleasing aesthetic contrast to the room’s grandeur.

Even the art-deco-inspired tables fit just right.

And at the center of the back wall, there’s one of the tallest Christmas trees I’ve ever seen. It’s filled with twinkling lights with metallic and jewel-toned ornaments: each trinket is beautiful, and once again marries the traditional with where we live.

While we have beautiful beaches, there’s no snow, but the tiny touches of thesalt lifelifestyle we enjoy make it special.

I need that flip-flop ornament for my tree next year?—

“Are you done?” Timbre deep. Frustrated.

Someone doesn’t like being ignored.“Not yet.”

“Piper Christmas Valentine.” It’s a hard, low hiss and I barely manage to hold in a shiver this time. I do, though, while biting down hard on my bottom lip. Don’t smirk. Don’t giggle. Either way, his reaction is worth it. “Don’t make this worse on yourself.”

“Yes. That’s my name.”

“Darling, I’m going to need?—”

“Not yet. Still looking.”

A mutteredbratgreets my ears a second before he physically turns me. With a hand on either side of my hips, Liam lifts me a few inches off the ground, effectively pulling a sharp gasp from me. My eyes snap to his, and what I find is a beautiful sight.

Liam Rutherford is angry. The vein in his neck throbs as his mouth hovers a few inches from mine, so close I taste his exhale, but then someone whistles.

Multiple someones.

They’re loud, and I don’t need to turn my head to see that the culprits belong to our group of friends, but either way, we’re moving toward a closed-off hallway. I’m left without a choice, craning my neck to get a better look from over my shoulder, but all I see is a long drapery and a sign that readsPrivate.

That’s it.

“Liam, what?—”

“Not yet, my little liar via omission.” Gruffly, his hands tighten on my hips as we cross the fabric, and I’m met with a dimly lit room. The noise from outside filters in—a bit muted—as the thick fabric separates us.

I’m placed at the center before he steps back, and then it’s silence. He watches me take in the space, the couch to the left of us, and the small table beside it—a soft area rug beneath our feet—but that’s broken the moment I turn and give him my back.

The minuscule bottoms have ridden up, exposing the bottom half of my asscheeks, and the guttural growl that escapes his chest is all the warning I’m given. Before my next intake of breath, he steps up behind me. There’s not an inch of space between us, my back to his front, and I can’t stop the whimper this time.

I feel all of him. Hard. So big.

“Such a pretty little sugar plum.” Liam’s lips are pressed against the back of my head, his exhale ruffling my red hair. “So sweet and always tempting.”

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