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He tucks his hands under his armpits. It’s either that or he’s going to touch himself, or ideally her, and that’s just all levels of wrong.
Like not doing anything about it now will wipe out what he did to her earlier in the shower. He’s already crossed a line that he had no right going near. He wants her naked under him, on top of him. Wants his hands on her smooth skin, but he can’t.
Yes, she wants to touch him too, but fantasising about being with someone, is very different to doing the deed. She’s holding back, stopping herself from acting on what she’s thinking, so he’s going to respect that. For now.
Her thoughts hit him again. He doesn't know how, but she’s managed to put him in a scenario he’d have imagined himself. She wants him in charge, wants him to tell her what to do, wants him to praise her when she does what he wants.
And his dick is more than happy with that scenario too.
The idea of being with her again and again, bringing her from one orgasm to the next is an unbelievable turn on. He rolls onto his front and buries his face in the pillow.
He can do this. After all, he’s been Santa for over three decades. He can control whatever is going on with his magic and how it’s messing with his body.
Who is he kidding? This isn’t working. He could easily lie here for the next few hours, his dick getting harder and his mood lower. Time to put some distance between them.
He pushes to his feet and takes his coat from the hook by the door.
‘What are you doing?’ Scarlett asks, lowering her book again. ‘You heading out?’
Nick shrugs his coat on, ignoring the pain in his side as he zips it up. Going outside probably isn’t his best idea, but fuck it. He’s going with it. ‘I just want to check out the crash site.’
‘Are you crazy? It’s snowing!’
‘Is that what that white stuff is?’ he says with a smirk, the smile she gives him in return lighting up her face.
‘I just wanted to make sure you knew. No need to be all smart about it. Just promise you won’t trip, or knock yourself out, or anything like that. I’d hate to have to drag you back in here again.’
‘I promise. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’ He grins at her, before opening the door and escaping outside. Nick closes the door and takes a few seconds to calm down.
Going outside for some fresh, if not seriously freezing air, was the right decision. Some of the tingle from his magic has dulled too. He has no idea why, but it seems to be triggered by Scarlett.
Nick looks across the garden to the forest beyond. It’s not far, but with the blizzard howling around him, it’s going to be hard work to get even close to the crash site.
With his head down and his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, he sets off. This is what he should be focusing on. His job. Keeping people safe from the creatures hiding in the shadows. Starting with whoever took down his sleigh.
So why is he still thinking about what he wants to do to Scarlett? Why can’t he stop imagining every single detail of what he would do to her?
This is more than just wanting meaningless sex. He’s attracted to her. It’s distracting him from his job, which he’s not thrilled about, but it’s been decades since he felt that way about anyone.
Not since Emma.
He grips the locket in his hand, but instead of comforting him as it always does, the contact seems to release a flood of guilt that has him stopping in his tracks.
He’s not doing anything wrong. Scarlett is single from what he can tell. And so is he. Has been for thirty-seven years. Even though the storm is raging around him, he opens the locket and smiles at the photo of his wife and daughter.
But calling himself single is like dismissing them. Like he’s wiping them from his life. He was happily married with a beautiful daughter. Then he was a widower and a grieving father.
They died thirty-seven years ago in a car crash, and the grief nearly killed him. His entire life was torn apart in that moment, and he couldn’t deal with it.
He’d lost his family, then his job, because he couldn’t stay sober long enough to do it. Bankruptcy followed soon after, then he had to watch as the home they built together was repossessed, leaving him on the street.
If he hadn’t been offered the Santa contract two years later, he would have drank himself to death in a back alley somewhere.
He’s not over the loss by any means. Never will be, but it’s not something he wants to get over. He needs to feel that loss every single day.
But that doesn’t mean he can’t find some semblance of happiness again with someone else. Does it? He’s not going to age while he’s Santa. That could mean a very long and very lonely life. Surely he can be Santa and have someone? Have Scarlett.
Emma would want him to be happy. He’s just not sure he’s ready for that. Ready to move on. To be happy with someone else.
