Page 36 of Never Kiss a Krampus
He groaned—a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through my entire body—and pulled me even closer, lifting me off the ground. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my short pleated skirt bunching around my thighs. My boots dangled in the air as he walked backward, my body pressed against his, my mouth still fused to his, until my back hit the wall beside the cash register.
The impact knocked the breath out of me, but I barely registered it. He was everywhere. His scent filling my lungs, his hands branding my skin, the hard evidence of his desire pressing against my core. I was lost, drowning in sensation, clinging to him as my only point of reality.
“This,” he murmured against my mouth, “is a very significant transgression.”
“I don’t care,” I gasped as his lips moved to my jaw, my throat, the sensitive spot behind my ear that made me shudder. “I really, really don’t care.”
His teeth scraped my skin—not hard enough to break, just enough to make me arch against him with a desperate little moan. His claws traced patterns on my thigh, just under the hem of my skirt, a feather-light touch that was somehow more intimate than anything I’d ever experienced.
“I should stop,” he said, but his actions contradicted his words. He rocked against me, a slow, deliberate movement that sent pleasure spiraling through me.
“Definitely should stop,” I agreed, tilting my head back to give him better access.
The twinkling lights painted us in shifting colors. The cash register gleamed silently. My grandmother’s shop, the place that was supposed to be my sanctuary, my inheritance, my burden, had become the backdrop for this impossible, wonderful disaster.
He finally raised his head, both of us breathing hard. The air between us crackled, thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions.
“This,” he said, his voice a rough, ragged thing, “was not in the contract.”
“I don’t remember a no-kissing clause.”
“A significant oversight.”
His amber eyes searched mine, and for the first time, I saw something beyond the judgment and the ancient power. I saw a flicker of something almost… vulnerable. A crack in the armor. The thought was so staggering, so unexpected, that it nearly knocked me sideways.
“Is this part of my punishment?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He stilled. “Do you want it to be?”
The question hung between us, heavy with possibility. Part of me—the sensible, business-degree-holding part—screamed no.This was a complication I didn’t need. A distraction I couldn’t afford. But the other part, the part that had felt alone and desperate and hopeless for so long, that part screamed yes. Yes to the distraction. Yes to the heat. Yes to feeling wanted, even if it was by a Christmas demon with a complicated contract.
“I don’t know,” I said, which was the most honest answer I could give. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”
He lowered me slowly, my feet finding the floor again, but he didn’t let go. His hands settled on my waist, the chains wrapped around his wrists cool against the thin fabric of my sweater. My heart, which had been hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, slowed. The frantic energy of the kiss had faded, replaced by something softer, more dangerous.
“I don’t understand what’s happening between us,” I said softly.
“Neither do I.”
He said it so simply, so honestly, that it was the most terrifying thing he’d said all day. If an ancient, all-knowing Krampus didn’t understand what was happening between us, what chance did I have?
CHAPTER 13
Before I could formulate a response that wasn’t just a jumble of panicked thoughts, the bells above the door chimed, bright and jarring in the quiet intimacy of the shop. I jumped away from him so fast I almost stumbled. Bastian retreated to the other side of the counter, a storm of unreadable emotion clouding his amber eyes, as I quickly smoothed down my skirt.
It was Mr. Peterson from the hardware store. He stood just inside the door, peering over his spectacles, a toolbox in one hand and a concerned expression on his face.
“Noelle? I saw your light was still on. Everything okay in here?”
“Mr. Peterson! Hi!” My voice was an octave too high. “Yes, everything’s fine. Just, uh, finishing up some paperwork.”
His gaze slid from my flushed face to Bastian, who had adopted a menacing posture that was probably supposed to look intimidating but mostly looked like he was brooding. Hard to tell with him.
“Your consultant helping you close up?” Mr. Peterson asked, though his tone was suspicious.
“He is,” I said, glad I’d already established that particular lie. “He’s very helpful.”
Bastian didn’t say anything, just gave a curt nod that could be interpreted as either agreement or a threat to eviscerate someone. Mr. Peterson seemed to lean towards the latter.
