Page 146 of Sinning for Santa

He nods, ruffling the water from his dark hair with the towel as he watches me.

“We open the gates on Christmas Eve and people who dare, come and see the lights and enjoy the handcrafts we sell, the music, and food.”

Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.

“So Mr I Hate Christmas lets other people enjoy it?” I snicker, and he grins and shrugs.

“Keeps them happyI guess.”

“You’re really just a big softie, aren’t you?” I tease, and he glares playfully at me.

“Like fuck.” And then he reaches in and flicks the hot water off, laughing at my scream as cold water rushes over me again.

“Arsehole!” I yell, hearing him laugh all the way back into his room.

Quickly flicking the hot water back on, I let it wash over me, feeling the loss of a different kind of warmth Devon brings me so easily.

And no, I’m not talking about the warmth he induces between my legs.

I’m talking about the warmth that fills my chest whenever he’s near. The warmth that I can’t ever remember feeling until we crossed paths.

It’s a warmth I want to hang onto.

I finish up in the shower, hoping that once we are under the covers of his bed, he’ll change his mind and want to have sex with me, but when I slip in and he pulls me into his side, I know he meant what he said, and it leaves me feeling perplexed.

Devon Marx doesn’t shy away from sex. He’d go all night long if he really wanted to, so, with a heavy heart I realise that perhaps he just really doesn’t want to.

Maybe he’s nearly done with me warming his sheets.

I may be inexperienced and naive, but I never thought this was more than it is.

He kidnapped me. Lied to me to keep me safe. And has been using my body as his plaything. Nothing more.

His big hands are like magic wands, putting me to sleep by their gentle strokes up and down my back as he holds me close. His touch quickly chases away my worries, and before I know it, sleep is dragging me under to dreams of a tall shadowed man that chases me through the dark, his laugh wicked, but his kiss familiar.

When I finally rouse the next morning, Christmas Eve morning, Devon is nowhere in sight.

Dragging myself out of the comfort of his sheets, I find another handwritten note for me on the bedside table.

It’s Christmas Eve, little mouse. Wear the red set under the red dress so I can unwrap you later.

x D

Maybe everything is alright. Maybe last night’s worries were unfounded, because he wants to unwrap me later.

That has to be a good sign, right?

Not that it matters. I have to go back to my life as soon as he finds the psychopath out to get revenge by killing me. Then it will be back to the daily grind. Working a desk job that brings me no fulfilment.

Eddie wasn’t wrong.

I have no skills. Hell, the data entry position is a job share, and when the other lady comes back from maternity leave, I’ll be back in the mailroom full time.

God, I want out of that life.

But what can I do? Admin for the rest of my life?

That is my qualification, but I just did that to please Eddie. To please my father.

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