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Scarlett laughs loudly. This is getting more and more bizarre by the second. ‘Are you being serious?’
‘Deadly serious. I’m Santa. It’s what I do... apparently. So, come on. Humour me.’
‘Can you still sit on Santa’s lap when you’re an adult?’
‘Oh would you just shut up and sit on my fucking knee! I’m not going to do anything sordid, I promise. Not unless you want me to.’ He grins, then pats his knee again.
She doesn't have a clue why he wants her to sit on his knee, but she does know she wants to. She wants to straddle him to be precise. Her brain is stuck on the fact he’s Santa, but her body is craving his touch again. The two sides of herself are at war with each other, and right now, sense is winning over everything else, as it should.
Or will, until she sits on his knee. She knows as soon as she makes contact with him, she’ll be a lost cause. So why is she delaying?
She meets his steady gaze and moves towards him, suddenly drawn to him like a moth to a flame. As soon as she gets close enough, he grabs her around the waist, resting her on his firm leg. ‘Nick!’
‘I was just speeding up the process. Stop complaining and look at me.’
‘What?’
‘Do you have to answer everything with a what? Please Scarlett. Look at me.’
After sighing again, just to make it seem like she’s not desperate to do anything and everything he wants, she turns and look at his eyes. ‘Now what?’
‘You’ve got a serious fucking attitude problem, you know that? I really like it,’ he adds with a mischievous grin. ‘Okay, so keep looking in my eyes.’
‘I’m looking,’ she says with a bored tone. Bored doesn’t even come close to how she’s feeling. Turned on and horny would probably be a better description. Especially when his blue eyes swirl with white. God she could look at his eyes forever and never get tired of it. He slowly traces the side of her face with the back of his hand. Now she’s horny and wet. When he speaks again, his voice sounds like it’s coming from inside her head. ‘What do you want for Christmas? And I swear if you respond with what I’ll spank you.’ He winks, and she can’t help but smile at the thought of him doing just that.
‘Do you want me to ask for a doll or something?’ She’s doing a lousy job of distracting herself, but she’ll give herself full marks for effort.
‘I’ll give you anything you ask for Scarlett, but in this case just think about what you want for Christmas. From me.’
She keeps looking at him, her heart racing at what he just said. She can do this. She can absolutely remain calm and composed around this unbelievably sexy man. No problem at all.
Focusing, she thinks about perfume and other trivial items. But then she takes a breath and his scent hits her. One minute she’s thinking about her favourite perfume and the next she’s naked and so is Nick. Her treacherous mind paints a vivid picture of the two of them on the couch, his hands and mouth on her skin.
He groans, a satisfied look on his face. ‘Yeah... you’re definitely on the naughty list, Scarlett.’
‘What?’
He brushes his long fingers through her hair, then taps her forehead. ‘I can feel what you want.’
She cringes at his words. ‘Oh God! You can read my mind? I thought that was a one off with the decorations?’
His eyes drop to her lips, giving them far too much attention. Or just the right amount. ‘I make Christmas wishes come true... for the most part. Not everyone can write me a letter. I need to be able to know what kids who believe in me want. It’s a perk of the job.’
‘So you saw or heard or...’
‘More like felt or sensed it. It’s difficult to explain.’
Then she realises something that sends a blush straight to her face. ‘If I say the word shower, what would it mean to you?’
‘My fingers in your soaking pussy, and you coming on command.’
Totally humiliated, she buries her face in her hands. ‘Oh God. I’m so sorry, Nick. I didn’t mean to.’
He gently pulls her hands away. ‘Look at me.’ She lifts her head and looks into his eyes. ‘What are you apologising for? I should be apologising to you.’
‘You didn’t actually touch me though... did you? You didn’t, right? I mean you just made me think that... didn’t you?’
‘No. I’d never touch you unless you wanted me to. Or begged me to.’
