Page 13 of The Goalie and Santa's Little Helper

Noah’s hands find my waist again, and he pulls me into him until my back hits his chest.

“You’re perfect,” he says at my ear. His breath is warm, and it tickles against my neck. I reach up to adjust my hair, pulling some of it over my shoulder as a shield. When I drop my hands to my lap, though, Noah brushes the locks back over myshoulder, exposing my skin to him again. The shivers down my arm and spine happen instantly.

“Is the beard okay?” he asks.

I twist and crane my neck to look at him. Our mouths are inches apart, and my gaze drops from his eyes to his mouth just as his tongue peeks out. I reach up to tug the beard a little to test how much it moves. His full lips stretch with his smile, and I get a glimpse of his dimple when I pull the beard out a little more.

“You might be in trouble with the skeptical kids. But they’ll be excited that Santa’s a famous college hockey player, so I guess it’s fine.”

He breathes out a short laugh, and our gazes lock again. Diamonds light up in his pupils as Norris tests his flash. Our connection doesn’t break, even though Noah’s probably a little blind right now.

“I’m not famous,” he says.

My mouth twists, and I squint my left eye.

“You’re a little famous. You have a fandom. They’re . . . very aggressive.”

His mouth draws in tight, and his chest fills with a long draw of air.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t pick those fans. I’m more interested in the scouts. And a certain elf.”

My body warms. Damn him, he’s so charming. He’s such a flirt, which I have always known. But when those powers are focused on me? He makes it really hard to keep my guard up.

“I’m not an elf,” I explain. “I’m Santa’s helper.”

My eyes flutter closed when I realize that doesn’t sound much better. In fact, it sounds a lot worse, given this situation. Noah’s body quakes with his silent laughter and I turn to face Norris again. My brows lift high.

“We about done here?”

He holds up a finger.

“Yeah, it looks good. Let me just get one good one of you two, my gift to your parents. Moms always love this stuff.”

I grumble and wriggle a few inches down Noah’s thigh.

“I don’t think they care?—”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Noah contradicts, pulling me back into him.

“Great. One second,” Norris says, adjusting his lens and checking the settings on his laptop. He has it set up to a small printer so we can send people home with their shots.

I twist my head to my side, stopping when I feel the curls of Noah’s fake beard against my cheek.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

He shifts under me as his lips hover at my neck.

“Yes.” The word comes out slow and smooth, like a long pour of expensive bourbon. It’s enough to make my heart kick and tingles run down my arms and legs, wrapping around my thighs and pushing me to squirm a little in his lap.

And then I feel him. He lets out a ragged breath against my neck, and his nose grazes my skin. He’s so hard right now, and I’m sitting in a very powerful position.

“Oh!” I say, letting delight color my tone and outweigh the threat of embarrassment.

I cross my legs, pressing my ass into him more, and his forehead falls against my cheek.

“If you want me to get up when we’re done, Frankie, you better?—”

I shift again, feeling him flex under my ass cheek, and now I’m a little turned on.

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