Page 55 of Merry Me
Those green eyes locked on to mine the moment he entered, like he’d known exactly where I was without needing to look. Like I was the only person in the room.
I froze, mimosa halfway to my lips, my entire soul screaming a very definitivenope.
“Where’s Brian?” I demanded as he reached me, suspicion already blooming.
Easton shrugged, all casual mischief. “Busy.”
“Busy?” I repeated, narrowing my eyes.
He leaned in slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking into that lazy, cocky smirk I hated loving. “I might’ve…locked him in a closet.”
My jaw dropped. “You didwhat?!”
Across the table, Paige choked on her drink, laughing so hard her mascara was already halfway down her cheeks. “Holy fuck.”
“Relax,” he drawled, lowering himself into the seat beside me like he hadn’t just committed a holiday-themed felony. “It’s not like I murdered him. Just gave him some alone time. Very important during the holidays.”
“And who,” I snapped, “madeyouSanta?”
“Margaret,” he said proudly. “She seemed thrilled. Said I had jingle energy.”
I gaped at him. “You havefelon energy.”
He grinned wider, leaning in until our faces were way too close for comfort. I could smell the cinnamon from the cookies, the peppermint of his breath, the faintest trace of my favorite cologne he knew drove me insane. “I make a better Santa, don’t you think?”
I blinked at him.
Murder. That was still on the table. Very much on the table.
Although…there was a tiny, traitorous voice in my head whispering,Or you could sit on his lap.
Nope. That voice needed therapy.
I opened my mouth to retort, something scathing and brilliant no doubt, but Easton didn’t wait.
He reached out and grabbed my hand, tugging me out of my chair.
“Where are we going?” I hissed, trying to plant my heels against the floor even as my heart did a dramatic Broadway leap inside my chest.
“I have a present for you,” he murmured, pulling me out of the dining hall and down the empty corridor toward the staircase.
The sounds of clinking glasses and off-key caroling faded behind us as we slipped into the hallway, lit only by twinkle lights woven through garlands like they were trying a little too hard. My hand was still in his, fingers laced like a promise—or maybe a dare—and I wasn’t exactly trying to pull away.
His Santa costume must be driving me crazy. His shoulders were filling out the red velvet in a way that no one else’s ever could, I was pretty sure. I bet Mrs. Claus didn’t feel like jumping Santa when she saw him.
But I certainly was right now.
“Where are we going?” I asked, breathless, barely keeping up with him, my heels clicking against the polished floors.
I mean, I kind of knew where we were going, okay, maybe not where…but what we were about to do. I’d had a long talk with my vag about being a hussy, but she didn’t seem to be listening…She seemed to be actively humming like a Christmas caroler, actually.
I needed to have another talk with her.
At some point.
Easton looked over his shoulder, his lips tugging up in a smirk beneath the white curls of the beard he’d shoved down around his neck. “Someplace quiet. You deserve a…Christmas surprise.”
His voice was low, roughened by something that sent ashiver darting straight down my spine. It was the kind of sound that didn’t belong in a festive hallway. It belonged in bedrooms and fantasies and that tiny corner of your brain where all your dignity goes to die.
