Page 46 of Sinning for Santa

My cheeks flush as my heart races and heat pools between my legs.

I picture him, naked, his strong fingers wrapped around his length as he pumps…

Another moan floats under the door, before his deep voice, although quiet, clearly speaks.

“Fuuuck.” He grunts and pants, a needy whimper escaping me before I realise what’s happening, and I leap back slapping my hand over my mouth.

And that’s the moment I want to curl up and die.

“Excuse me, Miss Summers, I knocked.”

Mabel. Bloody Mabel is standing in the living room, tray of food in her clutches, her expression reminding me of my second grade teacher that caught me eating a lolly from my school bag.

Shame. Shame. Shame, Jaxcen.

The bathroom door swings open, Devon’s expression pinched as he hurries out to find me, probably resembling a deer in headlights as I dart my gaze between him and Mabel.

“What’s going on?” he demands, and now I resemble a damn fish, my mouth opening and closing, words lost. “Mabel?” He sighs, clearly giving up on expecting an answer from me.

“I have your food, Mr Marx,” she answers, politely.

“I can see that. But what’s going on here?” He gestures between me and Mabel, and I shoot a silent beg her way not to dob me in.

Placing the tray on the table, Mabel brushes her hand down over her apron and clears her throat before glancing back at Devon.

“It appears your guest was eavesdropping on your bathing activities.”

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.

Chapter ten

Devon

For a moment there, I wasn’t sure Mabel would be honest, even though I’ve never before questioned her loyalty. But having Jaxcen here is new. Different. And she’s extremely likeable, a fact that has been bothering me because I have no doubt she has the ability to befriend my soldiers and get under their skin to coax them into letting her leave.

Not to mention, that women, especially the ones in my town, tend to band together, which I don’t hate, but it can lead to some tense moments at times. So really, Jaxcen already getting Mabel on her side was highly likely, but it appears not.

Mabel is still only loyal to me, it seems.

“Is that so?” I ask, keeping my expression neutral as I stand with only a towel wrapped around me, my gaze locked onto the mortified expression contorting Jaxcen’s face. “Were you eavesdropping on me in the shower, little mouse?”

She gives me the slightest head shake before my brow shoots high, daring her to continue lying, which is when her shoulders slump and she drops her head in defeat.

“Thank you, Mabel. That will be all.”

At my dismissal, Mabel nods and leaves the suite, closing me in with my guest. Or prisoner. It depends who you ask, I suppose.

“Sit. I’ll be right out.” I order, and notice how quickly she obeys.

There’s apart of me, and it’s a pretty big part, that enjoys this power play between us. I know I have a dominant personality, but I don’t consider myself a Dom, or partake in any such roles. I just demand, and expect obedience.

But there’s something about Jaxcen’s obedience that doesn’t sit well with me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying her submission, but it’s where it comes from that is the troubling factor.

After dressing, I join Jaxcen at the table, noticing that she hasn’t touched the food. She’s just sitting and waiting as instructed.

“Eat,” I bark, and I expect her to jump from the bite in my tone, but instead, she glares at me.

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