Page 33 of Sinning for Santa

Fight the temptation, Jaxcen. Gluttony is a sin.

“Are you trying to count how many calories are in one triangle, little mouse?” Devon teases, drawing my attention.

“No.”

He grunts. “Then stop staring at it and eat it.”

But I can’t. If I start, I may not stop.

Maybe I can pick the lettuce and tomato out of it and just eat that.

“Jaxcen, if you don’t eat that fucking sandwich right now, I’m going to shove it down your throat myself.”

He’s being a little dramatic, but it does the trick, because the next second I reach for one of the triangles before bringing it to my lips.

I nibble at it first, terrified of overindulging.

Gluttony can be seen, Jaxcen, worn on the outside of your body, showing the world you have no self control for what you put in your mouth.

Eddie’s voice fills my head, his disapproving tone like a spy on my shoulder, always there keeping me in line.

I can feel Devon’s eyes on me, and I just know he’s about to yell at me again, so I take a bigger bite this time. The flavours burst on my tongue, and my eyes widen as I realise I’m not going to be able to hold back.

This is it.

I’m stepping over the line of temptation and indulging.

With the next bite, I can’t help it. I moan. The explosion of flavour too much for me to deny, and my lids fall shut as I chew, wanting nothing more than to engorge.

As I eat, all my fears and worries seem to fall away. My only concern is with my next bite and how good it feels to be ingesting something that I know isn’t good for me.

Devon remains silent as we eat. I try not to look at him too much, but each time I do, his dark gaze is on my lips, watching me as he eats his own food. I have no idea what he’s thinking. I can’t tell by his expression if he is angry or turned on. Maybe both.

When we are done, Devon packs up the tray and sets it outside the door like you would in a hotel. I guess Mabel or someone else will remove it.

It takes me a moment to realise that he’s flicking off the lights in the suite, and the only light remaining is the glow that flows out of his bedroom.

“Time for bed, little mouse,” he says, and I stiffen in my chair.

“Where is my bed?” I ask, glancing around to find another door. There isn’t one. Not off the living room.

There’s only one bed. And a couch, which I’m happy to sleep on if I must.

“Your bed is right here.” He gestures over his shoulder to his bed, and I frown.

“And where willyou be sleeping?” I shift to peer back into his bedroom at the large four poster bed, the timber thick posts a similar sandy brown as the floors.

“In my bed.” He deadpans as my eyes widen, panic rushing through me.

“But I thought you said you weren’t going to—”

“I’m not going to fucking rape you!” he booms, clearly sick of having to reassure me, but what else am I supposed to think?

“But…”

“But nothing! There is one bed big enough for the two of us,” he mutters, clearly trying to calm himself down as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Now, I’m tired and I want to go to sleep so let’s stop fucking around.”

I can’t sleep in the same bed as him. That would be yet another sin against my name. Eddie would never forgive me, not that I know if I care about that, but for some reason I feel like I’m doing something wrong if I accept this and sleep in the same bed as another man.

---