Page 12 of Saint Nick
“The storm is getting bad out there, and I don’t want to do anything that either of us might regret in the morning. I think that it’s best that I leave for the night, Sandy.” She nodded, too hurt to say much more. He had flat-out rejected her, so what else could she do besides beg him for another chance? She hadalready decided that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe she had read all the signs wrong, or maybe tonight had been too much for Nick, and now he was looking for a way out. Either way, she’d let him go, even if watching him leave might break her heart.
NICK
Nick hadn’t planned on ending up on Sandy’s doorstep again that night. He’d told himself to keep on driving when he left her house, but his brain didn’t seem to want to listen—or maybe it wasn’t his brain that he was thinking with. Maybe he was thinking with his cock, and it wouldn’t be the first time that happened. Usually, when he let his cock do the thinking, though, it ended badly for him. That’s why he left her house just minutes earlier. He was a coward and taking her up on her offer to stay scared the hell out of him. He didn’t want to fuck things up with Sandy. But halfway down the road, with snow dusting the windshield and the faint echo of her laugh still stuck in his head, he found himself turning the truck around.
He stopped in front of her house, trying to talk himself out of what he was about to do. And when he finally gave up the fight, he parked his truck in her driveway. The snow was coming down around him, and he grumbled something to himself about being a complete idiot as he wrapped his leatherjacket around himself and walked to her front porch. The truth was simple, and for once, he didn’t bother lying to himself. He wanted to see her. In fact, not seeing her felt like a punishment.
He had asked her to hang out at the Road Reapers after the kids’ party was over, but she told him that she had to get her story in. A part of him wondered if she was trying to blow him off, with the excuse of having to finish her story, but the rational side of him realized that she probably had a deadline that she had to meet, and sticking around the bar wasn’t going to help her meet that deadline.
When she opened the door, the soft golden light from inside her home spilled across the porch, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. If he wasn’t mistaken, she had been crying, and that thought tore his damn heart out. He had caused them—her tears, and he was going to do just about anything to make things right with her. Sandy’s hair was a little messy, her cheeks flushed from the cold, and she was barefoot — standing there like something warm and real in a world that never quite felt like it belonged to him.
“Hey,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.
“Hey,” she echoed, a small smile tugging at her mouth.
She stepped aside, and he walked in, shaking the snow from his jacket. The warmth of her house hit him all at once. It felt soft, steady, and nothing like the hollow quiet of his own place. He could smell cinnamon and mulled wine lingering in the air—all the smells that reminded him of Christmas. He used to hate those scents, but now, he seemed to crave them.
They engaged in idle chatter, and when that ended, Sandy offered him something to drink. Maybe she was trying to fill the silence, or maybe just distract him, but he had come back to her house on a mission, and he didn’t want to be distracted,and he definitely didn’t want anything to drink. He stopped her rambling by just saying her name. “Sandy.”
She froze, her lips parted slightly, and just like that, the distance between them didn’t seem so far anymore. What filled the quiet space now was pure heat, longing, and desire. He was sure that every breath was going to be his last as he waited her out. He needed to be sure that she wanted what he had come there for.
Nick stepped closer, slow and deliberate, because that’s how he did everything in life. It was the scientist in him. He didn’t like to play games or second-guess himself or others. The soft scent of her skin reached him first—warm and sweet, like vanilla and something he couldn’t name.
He spilled his guts to her—telling her the real reason why he hated Christmas so much. He told her about remembering his mother and the last time he saw her. He hated being so vulnerable. She had seen everything about him—all his deep, dark secrets, yet she still hadn’t turned him away.
“You don’t have to offer me anything,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t come here for something to drink.”
Her breath caught. “Then why did you come back, Nick? You just left after I asked you to stay.” Sandy’s breath was coming out in hot little puffs, and it took everything in him not to cover her mouth with his own and kiss her like he had earlier that day at the bar. He lifted his hand, let his fingers brush against her jaw, tracing the line of her face like he’d been fighting the urge to touch her all damn night. Maybe he had been, but he was finished denying himself what he wanted, and he wanted her.
“I was being a coward,” he admitted. “I had told you everything—all of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly, and I was afraid that you wouldn’t want me anymore, so I left. But Icame back because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted. There—now it was out in the open, and there would be no taking back his words. Not even if he wanted to, and Nick didn’t want to.
“You couldn’t ever tell me anything that would make me not want you, Nick. I asked you to stay because I wanted you here with me,” she whispered.
The way she looked at him then nearly undid him. Her gaze was wide-eyed but steady, like she’d been waiting for him to say those words to her for a while now. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, and he felt every inch of her touch as though it was burned into him. Everywhere that she touched him felt as though it had scorched his skin, and God, he needed more.
He dipped his head to kiss her, and this time, when their lips touched, it wasn’t tentative. It was everything he’d been holding back with her. Sandy’s mouth was soft against his—warm and inviting. He tasted the sweetness of the wine she’d been drinking and something else — something that felt like home in a way that nothing ever had before.
Her fingers curled in his shirt, pulling him closer until there wasn’t space between them anymore. The heat of her body soaked through his clothes, seeping straight into his chest—into his damn heart. His hands found her waist, thumbs brushing slow, easy circles against her hips.
“Sandy,” he breathed against her lips.
She tilted her head back just enough to whisper, “Don’t stop.” A low sound escaped him—not quite a laugh, not quite a groan as he kissed her again, deeper this time. His hands slid beneath her sweater, finding warm skin, causing her to shiver. The sound that she made was soft and breathless, the kind that made his restraint feel like a frayed thread.
He tugged her sweater upward, slowly as though giving her every chance to tell him no. But she didn’t. And when the sweater came off, he just looked at her. Nothing else existed anymore—just her. Just the two of them.
Her fingers slid down the zipper of his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. She pressed her palms against his chest, and he swore he felt his world tilt a bit off kilter. She did that to him, knocked him a little bit sideways, and if he let her, she’d knock him completely on his ass.
They half stumbled toward the couch, laughing against each other’s mouths when his boot caught on the rug. She gripped his shirt to steady herself, and he wrapped his arms around her body. When they landed on the couch, she ended up beneath him with her hair spilling over the cushions. Nick braced a hand beside her, careful not to put all his weight on her, as his other palm found the curve of her jaw, his thumb brushing lightly across her cheek. He wanted to memorize her like this — flushed, breathless, looking at him like maybe she felt the same wild things crawling under her skin as he did. Nick had never wanted any woman the way that he wanted Sandy.
He kissed her again, slower now, letting it build. Her fingers slid beneath his shirt, tracing the lines of his stomach, and he shivered. He wasn’t used to someone touching him like that — like they wanted to know him, not just feel him. The world outside could’ve disappeared for all he cared. The snow, the lights, the noise of the season. All that mattered was the warmth of her mouth against his, the way her body fit perfectly against him, and the quiet sound she made when he whispered her name against her throat.
It wasn’t just heat he felt with her—it was a connection. A slow, unexpected unraveling of two people who’d spent toolong pretending they didn’t want this. And when her hands tangled in his hair and she arched against him, Nick knew, for the first time in a long time, that he didn’t want to run anymore. Not from tonight and definitely not from Sandy.
Nick hadn’t planned on staying. Hell, he had proven that when he walked away the first time from her tonight. And returning to her house wasn’t part of the plan either. But the second her sweater hit the floor, his plans didn’t exist anymore. All that mattered was her—warm and soft, looking at him like he was something worth keeping. No woman had ever looked at him like that before. To every other woman he’d ever been with, he was expendable. He was just some biker that they wanted to hook up with, and then, they’d move on. It’s why he had given up on dating. But Sandy had him wanting to try again, no matter how raw and exposed that made him feel.
Her breath came fast as he kissed his way down her throat, slow enough that she shivered each time his lips brushed her skin. He loved the quiet, breathy sigh she made when he dragged his mouth just beneath her ear. It was sexy as fuck and made him want to find every little spot on her body that would elicit those same sighs from her.
She arched up against him, and his hands found her waist, his fingertips sliding against warm skin. Her pulse fluttered beneath his mouth, and when he trailed his kisses lower, his thumbs brushed the edge of her bra. She met his gaze—her cheeks flushed, chest rising fast as she gave a tiny nod. That was all he needed.
