Chapter 28 #2
He groans. “Charlie, really, I can’t just get you naked again, and now I’m thinking about chains when I should be thinking about Christmas and showing you around and the contr—” he stops.
“The contract?”
“It’s not important.” He shrugs. “Are you happy now that you’ve established I have a sweet tooth?”
“I think it’s more than a sweet tooth and yes, thrilled.”
“What can I say?” He laughs. “It must be in our DNA.”
I smile, then a thought hits.
“Does your dad have portraits of the seventeen Santa’s that came before him?” I ask.
“He does,” Stetson doesn’t disappoint he also doesn’t elaborate.
“Are they here in the village?” I start to get excited. I would love to see them, I mean when would I ever get the opportunity again? Gah, there I am again with the dark thoughts.
“Yes, actually,” he admits. “I was going to take you today to the Claus-eum.”
Excuse me? I almost choke. He didn’t. Did he?
“The Claus-eum?” I’m pretty sure my face says it all.
He nods. He’s dead ass serious. “It’s where we keep the North Pole Archives.”
Again, the way he’s able to say these things with a straight face should really be studied by science. It’s unreal.
“Naturally,” I smile awkwardly. “I mean, where else would we go but the Claus-eum.”
Stetson doesn’t notice or care that it’s still taking me a second to process all of this while mocking him at the same time. No wonder my responses seem strange to him—he’s never spoken any of these things to another woman or brought her here.
He grabs us some coffees and water and we sneak upstairs like we’re kids in high school running away from our parents.
I still can’t get over how incredible the home smells and feels.
It’s like the most peaceful place on earth and for some reason here in Santa’s Village, maybe they pump something through the vents—the air does smell sweet, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was sugar with a hint of sleepy time tea.
My stomach suddenly grumbles, and I think about that cupcake Stetson just devoured.
I’ve suddenly developed a crazy sweet tooth—am I going to start eating sugar like him because we had sex? Oh shit.
Is it an addiction that you catch? Should I be worried? Will it affect me? Am I stupid to ask?
“Hungry?” He says over his shoulder.
“A gentleman would have ignored that,” I’m surprisingly not embarrassed he heard, I’m more worried about eating my body weight in cookies.
“Honey, satellites orbiting the earth heard your stomach,” he makes me laugh. “I’ll feed you after…”
After?
He walks into one of the guest bathrooms and starts fiddling with the shower. I’m cautiously intrigued.
Santa does have his rules.
“How hot do you like it?” Stetson asks.
“I’m sure I can figure it out,” I tell him and point out the obvious signs on the shower wall. “That one reads hot and that reads cold and since I can read I think I’m good.”
He laughs at me.
“Oh, I have no doubt you’re good,” he says as he reaches down and pulls off his black sweater only to expose that incredible chest to me in a dimly lit bathroom.
My mouth waters.
I don’t know if that’s a six or eight pack, but it’s incredible considering his diet. It’s so much prettier in the light. I mean, it’s incredible without his diet. His hands move toward the top button of his jeans. My breath hitches as I stare.
“Are you showering with me?”
“Where else?” His eyes go all sex god the way they did in the sleigh, and I am one hundred percent on board with everything those eyes promise and everything I know his body will offer up.
“Your father wants us in separate rooms!” I remind him, eyes wide, like I’m some virgin from medieval times. Careful not to show ankle! I mean seriously.
I’m all for it, but I don’t want to piss Santa Claus off, he’s the boss and I kind of love him.
“He’s looking at toys,” Stetson assures me as his jeans drop to the ground in a giant thunk. “We’ve got time.”
Time. Do we though? To do all the things I want to do?
“Question,” I gulp. “Does playing with Santa’s heir like he’s my own personal toy get me on the naughty list or do you consider it nice…very nice?”
My face is red, and I keep my eyes glued to his.
I don’t look down.
I do however, want to play.
Desperately.
Please say it’s naughty and nice. Please!
“Wait!” I slam my hand against his chest making him choke. “Your dad won’t see right? Like he won’t see, that Charlie Horse got down on both knees, grabbed Stetson by the hips, and imagined her tongue tracing—”
I stop talking.
Stetsons jaw drops. “Are we writing a dirty novel, acting out a personal fantasy, and why the hell did you stop?”
“Does he?” I lick my lips.
Stetson waves his hand. I hear a jingle. Holy shit there was a jingle. “What was that?”
“Magic.”
I grab his hand and stare at it. “Wait your hands really are magic?”
He nods.
I grab them and put them on my body. “You may proceed.”
“Am I examining you?”
“Do the jingle.” I demand, then point at him. “As long as your dad doesn’t see. I give full consent for all the jingle magic to take place in the shower.”
He leans in and snaps his hand next to my ear, the smell of sugar fills the air. I lick my lips and taste sugar cookies. “Neat trick.”
“I have more.”
Finally, I look down. I’ve already seen, had, felt, lived, enjoyed and screamed in pleasure because of that exceptional body of his—but this feels even more intimate.
And knowing it’s just us—and his magic. I like it.
“Alright, then,” I whisper before my eyes lazily sweep over the length of him—the same way he’s done with me.
“Let’s make some magic.”
“Thought you’d never stop talking.” He crushes his mouth against mine and I’m lost in the bliss of it all over again. The way his smooth hands run down my back stripping me of my clothes all in one swift movement.
Steam curls around us, thick and sweet like sugar in the air.
Stetson’s fingers lace through mine as he pulls me under the spray, and the heat hits my skin like a shock before melting into something heady and soft.
The water cascades down rock walls that glisten like crystal, the sound echoing into a hidden cave beyond—an entire world tucked behind the shower.
“Wow,” I breathe, eyes wide. “You really do have surprises in every room, don’t you? Even the bathroom?”
He grins, droplets running down his temple. “The place is old,” he says, as if that explains the small underground paradise carved into stone.
Before I can answer, he scoops me up with an infuriating mix of ease and mischief, water splashing as he carries me deeper and sets me into one of the steaming pools.
“More magic,” I murmur, bracing against the rock, dizzy from heat and from him.
“So much more than I can show you in a lifetime,” he says quietly.
The words hang there, suspended between the hiss of steam and the soft chime that always seems to follow his touch—the faint jingle of something ancient and enchanted. I want to bottle that sound, that promise, and never let it go.
I reach for him, fingers trailing over his arm, feeling power hum beneath his skin.
Everything about him feels impossible—this Santa’s heir with a crooked grin and hands that could charm the stars themselves.
My laugh slips out before I can stop it.
“Please tell me the magic sound isn’t coming from actual bells. ”
He leans in, lips curving against my ear. “Trade secret.”
The air crackles between us, warmth and laughter tangling into something that feels a little dangerous, a little divine.
He presses his forehead to mine.
“Do we have time for this?” I whisper.
His smile softens. “For you? I’ll make time. Stop time, if I have to.”
I grab onto him, slippery warm skin, steam billows around us.
I'm in a Santa filled fever dream with the most unlikely hero, the most unlikely person and yet I can't deny what makes sense what drives me insane with each taste of him I wonder if that’s what the real addiction is Stetson, not his magic, but the draw he has on me and the way I feel not only safe in his arms but like I’m his everything Like Santa's heir has been waiting his whole life for a present, please God let me be it.
Wrap me up in a bow, untie me with your teeth, look your fill.
My eyes close as my body screams with pleasure as his mouth presses small kisses down my neck.
And just like that, the world outside the water disappears—bells, stars, and every other kind of magic caught somewhere between his heartbeat and mine.