Page 63 of His Christmas Wife

A tune she recognized filled the vehicle’s interior, relaxing her, making her feel a little more festive.

When they arrived at her apartment complex, she was so content that it was difficult to unfasten her safety belt to reach for the door handle. “I had a…” She hesitated. Where were the words to describe the whirlwind day, from purchasing an extravagant engagement ring, to a fun lunch, conversation in the sunroom, amazing sex, dominating possession, then his tenderness?

Aware of him watching her, she started again. “I’ll see you at work, Mr. Frost.”

His eyes narrowed. “You will indeed.”

She escaped from the car only to have him arrive at the front of the hood before she did.

“I’ll walk you in.”

Once again, his words were a statement, not a question.

Inside, he slid the leftovers in the fridge while she placed her purse on a table.

Silently he studied her, sending her pulse into overdrive.

“Bend over the back of the couch.”

Softly Kaylee blew out a breath. She was trying to detach from him, even a little, but he made that impossible.

When he cleared his throat, she couldn’t deny him.

Once she’d done as he said, he deftly flipped the hem of her skirt up to her waist and slid a finger between her legs. She was damp, ready for his Dominance.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I won’t let you deny what we have.” Harshly he kneaded his fingers into the flesh of her buttocks, squeezing even harder before stepping back to right her clothing.

While she struggled to breathe, he leaned over her, pressing her body down. Then he kissed the side of her neck. “Damn right, I’ll see you in the morning, Kaylee.”

Flabbergasted, she didn’t respond.

“Lock up after me.”

With that, the door bounced against its casing.

Since Evan Frost had blazed onto the scene, he’d completely shaken her world. He’d cracked the protective shell around her heart, leaving her vulnerable not just to him, but for him.

Standing to wrap her arms protectively around herself, she wondered how she’d survive the emotional upheaval he’d brought into her life.

Mere moments later, her cell phone chimed. Crossing the room slowly, she opened her purse to grab the device.

Don’t masturbate.

Holding her breath, she waited, expecting more. But no other messages arrived. The behavior was typical Frost—ensuring she would think of him, and only him, for the rest of the night. Agreeing to be his pretend wife was the most reckless decision she’d ever made.

And if she wanted to save herself, she needed to take an immediate, emotional step back.

As if that was possible.

Sometime between surrendering at the club and playing with him at his house, she’d fallen for him. The damnable, relentless Dominant had chipped away at her resistance.

And now, her rear still tender, worn out from their time together, she went to bed and immediately drifted off to sleep.

A short time later, a dizzying nightmare awakened her. She’d been falling through a long, dark void, screaming for help. Hundreds of people watched her plunge past while she frantically reached out her hand for help.

Drenched in sweat, heart pounding, she got up long enough to change into a pair of shorts and a tank top.

Even after she climbed beneath the blankets again, she tossed and turned, unable to vanquish the horrific images from her mind.

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