Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I cut her off with a searing kiss then curl my hands into her hair and pull her head back gently so I can see her face before crashing my mouth against hers again. She kisses me back like air doesn’t matter and I have to wonder if anything ever will have meaning without her in my life?
For now I have her.
For now she’s in my arms.
For now, this is all that matters.
Tomorrow, I will have enough to face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Iwake up naked, wrapped in Stetson’s arms—in Santa’s sleigh.
In Santa’s sleigh. Yes.
I can’t deny the facts currently slapping me in the face via icy cold wind.
I tilt my head back. The sky stretches endlessly above, ink-black and freckled with stars so bright they look hand-placed, like heaven got carried away showing off and forgot that might be too much for mere mortals to bear. The air is so still it hums. My chest tightens. Is it an ache at what I’m seeing or an ache of what’s to come?
It’s beautiful. Too beautiful.
And for a second, I can’t shake the feeling that none of this is real. That my reality has nothing to do with pretty skies, mind blowing sex, and men who actually know what to do with their hands. I’m afraid that if I breathe too hard, it might all disappear.
From the moment I set eyes on this man when he squared off against a polar bear—it’s been surreal, I mean the fact that I can even say he squared off with nature is wild. And hell, that was only two days ago!
Two days and my life has changed in the most dramatic and chaotic of ways.
I’m officially hooked on a man I just met but feel as though I’ve known for an eternity. When we were together it was more than just passion. It felt like there was more at play—like this is what I’d been waiting for my entire life that every disappointment, dead end road, and tear was worth it because of his stupid sleigh and beautiful smile and stories of reindeers. Maniacal laughter almost bubbles out of me because this is crazy but it’s my reality. Maybe all of it was worth it. I turn and steal a glance at him.
He’s still asleep.
This man. I mean…
Just look at him.
He’s so freaking gorgeous.
His face is relaxed in sleep, making him look more boyish and stress free, with none of life’s weight or strain—not that he has a lot to worry about. But still. Even rich people who are related to Santa Claus have problems.
He looks so innocent.
But I know now from firsthand experience there’s nothing innocent about him.
My stomach does another round of summersaults when I think about just how opposite he is, how he touched me, working my body and dammit…even my soul. He’s not clueless and that for women it’s a divine connection between the two, learn how to make me feel something with my heart while touching my body and I’m yours. I try my best not to sigh out loud.
Because that was pure sin.
The best kind.
Crap.
This is the kind of man that will be hard to get over—if ever. If this ends in tears and heartbreak, I’ll have to go on a dating sabbatical for some time. This is the kind of guy that can take you years to shake. I’m already mentally preparing myself for the worst-case scenario because that’s what I’ve had to do my entire life. Prepare for the worst, and never get my hopes up even when the best is staring at me straight in the face. It’s always too good to be true—always.
Don’t go there, Charlie, I tell myself trying to stop the panic that washes over me when I think about how I signed a clause that clearly stated this could only be a twenty-four hour thing… no matter what he’s said, or how he’s behaved I signed his clause.
Willingly.
I’m not just under this man, I’m under his contract.
And the only good advice my mother ever gave me about men was this— when he tells you who he is, you better believe it.
Still.
Watching him now, like this—peaceful, relaxed, satiated, I can’t help but hope he felt something more too.
“I can feel you thinking,” his voice is like soft velvet. “It’s exhausting, don’t you think?”
His eyes open and his blue gaze beams brightly against the dark sky. I should be embarrassed being caught, staring at him so blatantly, like a besotted schoolgirl or a psychopath ready to draw ‘I heart Stetson’ all over my papers but I’m not.
“You must have made the girls in high school crazy,” I say the first thing that comes to my brain. “I cannot even begin to imagine the trail of heartbreak and tears.”
He gives me a wolfish smile. “We had some good times.”