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Except there’s one small problem with that.
It was all in her head.
He’s one sick fuck.
There’s no other way of putting it.
Nick lifts his head, facing his reflection in the mirror over the sink in the downstairs bathroom. His eyes are still white. It’ll take another minute for them to go back to normal again.
She saved his life and he just did that to her! Okay, so he didn’t actually touch her. All he did was give her one hell of an orgasm. He glances at his dick, still rock hard even though he’d come himself. It was a pretty intense orgasm for him too.
He slaps himself on the forehead, grimacing when he bumps against the cut. ‘Sick, sick, fuck!’
He shoves his dick back in his boxers whether it’s ready to calm down or not, then sits on the toilet lid, staring at the door.
That was a first. Part of being Santa means he can give people what they want, to a certain extent. But what just happened in the shower was a whole new experience. He’s never done that before. Never felt like he was touching someone without actually touching them.
Something about Scarlett is messing with his magic. When she looks at him, he knows what she wants from him, and it goes beyond mere Christmas gifts. She’s attracted to him. He’s not being big-headed - he can feel it. He knows what she wants.
And she wants him.
No complaints there. He wants her too.
But it’s not that easy. It never is with him, unfortunately. It’s all part of the ups and downs of being Santa.
Ten minutes later, his eyes and dick have calmed, so he stops hiding in the bathroom. Scarlett is still upstairs. She’s probably wondering what the fuck is going on.
That makes two of them.
He puts back on his t-shirt again. His side and head still hurt, but the pain is easing. He still doesn’t have a clue what happened, and that’s pissing him off. He looks up at the staircase as the door at the top unlocks, and Scarlett comes out of her bedroom.
She’s not looking at him, her eyes focused on the steps as she comes downstairs. She’s ditched her oversized pyjamas for a pair of jeans and a fluffy navy sweater. Pyjamas or sweater - she still looks hot as fuck.
Which is why he’s in so much trouble.
When she finally looks at him she blushes, turning away to look out the window. ‘Still snowing.’
He grins. ‘Yeah. Appears to be. You okay?’
She nods and hurries into the kitchen. ‘I'll get started on breakfast. Full Irish okay with you?’
‘I’ll have whatever you’re having. Want a hand?’
She pokes her head around the door frame and smiles. ‘I got it. You just relax. I’m good.’ Then she disappears, the sound of cupboards and drawers banging loudly fills the slightly awkward and heated silence. Entirely his fault, but deep down he’s not sorry. He probably should be. That would be a decent reaction, especially from Santa.
Not that he’d ever call himself a conventional Santa. He has reindeer and a sleigh, but that’s about as far as it goes. Right now he’d like to get his hands on those fucking reindeer! They should have stayed with him. It’s what they’re trained to do.
Unfortunately, since he started, they’ve had more of a hate/hate relationship going on. The fleabags never warmed to him, preferring his predecessor to him.
They’re part of the deal though, so, after a lot of bribery in the form of treats, he’d convinced them not to drop his ass off the sleigh every time he goes out with them. Or thought he had.
Something must have spooked them enough to have them take off. As much as they don’t like him, they wouldn’t have just left him. He just wishes he could remember what it was. Wishes he could remember anything after he left the workshop. But it’s all a blank and that’s pissing him off.
He doesn’t believe in coincidences. Never has. He crashed because someone wanted him to crash. Which means they’re either trying to kill him, or they want his magic. Neither reason is particularly fantastic.
Sure he has enemies. They all do. The problem is, he can't think of anyone who would benefit directly by trying to kill him. If Christmas didn’t happen, he’d probably be out of a job. Maybe worse. He’s not sure what the repercussions would be. No Santa has ever missed Christmas. He has no intention of being the first. Big talk from someone with no way of getting home.
But unless he finds a way to get back, whoever is out to get him, might just get their wish. The good news is that, whether the reindeer like him or not, they’re trained to go home. Once they arrive back without him, a search party would be launched.
