Page 176 of Santa Daddies
I’m pulled back from my bliss when he slides out of me and pushes my thong back in place, patting my sex from behind.
“You need to rest. I better get you home.”
He’s right, but I’m not ready for these good swirly feelings to end. “What’s the hurry?”
“I think it’s safe to say I fulfilled the contract.” He’s getting dressed, making a wad of his Santa costume. “I’ll run our stuff out to my car then come back to get you.”
Alone, I pull myself up from the bench. My gaze drifts to the door as it closes, and I catch sight of the glass viewing wall. I quickly divert my gaze. After all, the contract’s fulfilled.
Chapter Eleven
Loren
As the most vivid dream of my life filters through my waking brain, I stretch. And freeze. The ruffled edge of a pillow catches my attention. My eyes bolt open.
Bellamie's bedroom. Bellamie’s bed. In our parents’ house.
It's all real.
The Aubergine Affair. The Christmas Cherry Auction.
Winning her. Everything we did in the viewing room, then needing to get her home for aftercare because it seemed too intimate to do at the club. And having a driver get her car home so I could keep her with me in mine while I brought her home.
But also the moment in the parking lot when I cradled her against my chest as I carried her to my car. The dark blue Maserati Granturismo pulling into the lot as I was setting her in my car’s passenger seat. The way the Maserati screeched to a halt when its headlights landed on us. The fact that I’m fairly certain Kace is the only one driving a car like that in this town, even though he was supposed to be at the other festival.
I didn’t wait to find out. I couldn’t let anything come between Bellamie and me. I tore out of the parking lot, turning my phone off for the night. I don’t bother to turn it back on.
How did making love to her feel so right? She was my best-kept secret until last night. All that time I spent pretending to ignore her has been for naught. I try to remember what I said to her, how much I revealed, but all I can think about is wanting more.
I jump out of bed, throw my jeans and button-up shirt on, and look forward to more time alone with her. Time to sort out our next step.
Our parents have an early morning networking session on Saturdays, so we’ll have the house to ourselves until noon.
I can’t see a future without her, but our parents would be destroyed if we got together. Luckily, with the NDAs in place for the auction and the club, Bellamie and I get to control what we reveal.
What was last night to her? What was it to me? I know what I wish it could be.
I’ve never liked flying by the seat of my pants, but there wasn’t time to list the pros and cons and map out potential futures. No matter how we move forward, there’s so much at risk.
I step into the hallway and hear our parents talking to Belle. Shit. My mom’s tone is far too happy for Bellamie to have said anything to them, and since I don't understand what we have other than one night together, I’m not prepared to explain.
Rushing to my old bedroom so I can make it look like I slept in my bed, I come to an abrupt halt in the doorway. Mom's quilting stuff is all over the bed and every other flat surface. Boxes of fabric sit on the floor. How she finds energy to quilt outside of running a successful marketing business is beyond me.
Detouring to the guest bedroom, I find it torn apart for repainting. Fuck! I run back to Bellamie's room and throw a blanket and pillow on the floor.
Striding down the hall, I prepare to engage with our parents before having time to talk to Belle. There’s so much to sort out. She’s so much younger than me, I worry that I took advantage of her, but someone was going to win her. It sits heavily on me, making me feel like a total jerk who capitalized on my sister’s starry-eyed dreams. I could have talked to her before slamming her against the wall or biting her ass. We could have sorted everything out in advance. We could have done a lot of things, but once we were in that room, nothing mattered except pleasing her.
Taking a big breath, I shake out my nerves before rounding the corner into the kitchen where they’re sitting around the island. “Good morning.”
Mom startles. “Where'd you come from?” She and dad exchange questioning glances.
That confirms what Belle hasn’t told them.
“I slept on Bellamie's floor.”
“You what?” our father says, half pissed, half confused.
“Mom’s quilting stuff is all over my room and the guest room’s out of commission.”
