Chapter 3 – Nicole
Out of all the emotions swirling inside me, the loudest made the least sense. There was something familiar about those dark chocolate eyes. I didn’t know the man peering out from behind the mask. But an instinct, one planted deep inside me, called to him.
And my freaking body responded with a rush of heat.
Maybe it was the wine making me lose what little common sense was left after reading too many dark romance novels. I had only just opened bottle number two, and there’d been enough time for the first to wear off—plus all the snacks I’d munched on this evening helped with that.
No, I couldn’t blame my poor decisions on the wine. The smart thing to do would be to find my phone and call the cops. Instead, I was running upstairs like my lizard brain wanted to sneak into the dark and hide. Here I was, playing a game with the monster!
Breathing hard, I hunkered down in the guest room assigned to me. Nothing about this was right. Normal people weren’t turned on by being chased by a stranger.
Those eyes flashed through my mind. Who was he? And why the hell was I into this?
Because this is exactly how you imagined it.
I winced. My darkest secret, my deepest fantasy. It was playing out in real time, and I was the nutcase embracing it.
Not every girl wanted to be chased and ravished by a hot stranger. Hell, it was quite possible he was ugly under that mask!
A voice inside my head laughed at that.
That body was a smoke show. The thief was built for sex.
“I am not turned on by this,” I told myself with force.
More demented cackling flickered through my brain. You won’t say no if he offers.
“He’s not going to offer. He came here to steal, not to play out some unemployed loser’s fantasies,” I snapped.
Hmm, he might be full of surprises.
I shook my head—hard.
Plus, when was the last time you did something just because you wanted to? Hmm? Not because it was expected of you? What has making the right choices gotten you? Make the wrong choice.
Well, if that wasn’t a tempting argument.
“And if he hurts me?” I countered. Just because he hadn’t, didn’t mean the thief was someone I should feel safe around.
My inner darkness was silent.
“That’s what I thought,” I snapped, unable to believe I was actually having this argument with myself. “And who uses the word ‘ravish?’ This isn’t a bodice ripper novel.”
I smacked the heel of my palm into my head. I was hiding from an intruder, and instead of figuring out a way to save myself, I was having an argument with the demented fiend who lived in the back of my mind. Not only that! I was nitpicking her choice of vocabulary.
A stair creaked. A sharp inhale caught in my throat. This was it. Do or die. I heard him climb the steps. Slowly. Methodically. A predator, stalking his prey.
A bolt of heat shot straight to my core.
Great. Not only was I the stupid girl in the horror movie who ended up massacred by the chainsaw, I craved the villain wielding the instrument of my demise!
Silence spread through the shadows. He was likely headed to the master suite. I would sneak downstairs, grab my phone from the living room, and call the police.
It was time to make the smart decision.
I stood from behind the hand-crafted armchair that cost more than the average family’s rent. Two steps forward, I paused to listen. The hall was just a shade darker than the bedroom. Other than the whir of the heat in the vents, it was silent. I took one long inhale and prepared to bolt.
A long, plastic taper candle blinked on, not three feet in front of me. The flickering orange glow cast a garish light on his mask.
“You should’ve known I’d find you,” he whispered. “I always did.”
I screamed and tried to run.
A gloved hand snaked out, and he easily caught me. “Scream as loud as you want, angel. The snow will swallow the sound.”
Jerking hard to the right, I struggled to reach the door.
The thief swept a leg out, catching both of mine.
The room tilted. I almost crashed onto the rug, but at the last second, he twisted and took the brunt of the impact.
With a groan, he rolled, putting me on my back, and pinned me to the ground.
Those long, thick legs looped over mine. I couldn’t move.
To make matters worse, I wasn’t half as scared as I should be.
“Let me go!” I shouted. “You monster!”
His hot breath fanned against my ear, and my body responded with a shiver. “Since it’s Christmas time, I’ll grant you one wish. Tell me to leave. Or let me…stay.”
The implication behind stay swept through me. This was it. Did he really mean it? No…maybe?
I pressed my whole body discreetly into his hard mass, and sure enough, he had a nice, hard package tucked away.
Holy shit. A package…for me.
He was into this. If that was sick and demented, to want a woman whose house he’d broken into, well, I was into it too.
This scenario was close enough to the ones I’d mapped out in my journals, all of them variations of this fantasy.
Usually, the descriptions involved a castle in a far-far away land and an enemies-to-lovers situation.
The monster, shadow daddy, or fae warrior would sneak into the castle and capture the king’s daughter.
While I was no princess, and this was clearly a man, I would take whatever I could get.
“What would you do if you stayed?” I breathed. This needed to be crystal clear. I couldn’t make assumptions that he was into the same dark scenarios as I was. Consent was key, and I needed his.
“It’s cold outside,” he confessed. “And warm in here.”
So simple. “And if I tell you to go, you’ll leave?”
He nodded. “I might have to tie you up in a way that gives me a head start.”
My legs clenched together at the thought of being tied. It was instinctive. I couldn’t help myself.
With a dark, dangerous chuckle, he brought the candle close between us. There was no missing the mischief dancing through his eyes. “Do you like the thought of being tied up?”
I shivered. There was no way I was admitting I’d never been but was dying to try it. Nice, blue-blood Boston girls didn’t say things like that. Not that I was actually one of those, either.
He drew the glowing tip of the taper over my tank top, skimming over my breasts. “You can’t lie to me, angel.”
“Screw you,” I spat. He thought he could read me so easily. “Maybe you should leave. Go back to the cold. Leave me in peace.”
“No, I don’t think I’ll do that,” he laughed. The sound was a dangerous melody in the dark.
I gasped. Air caught in my throat. “You said you’d leave if I decided.”
“Your mouth is saying one thing, your eyes and body another.” He swirled the faux flame around my nipple, shooting bolts of anticipation through me. “You look like a gift begging to be unwrapped.”
It was too late to make the smart choice.
This man radiated sex. His voice sounded hot—rough and wicked. Damn me, but I wanted him.
It was ten times better than any fantasy, and I was fired up, ready to play.
But I wasn’t going to go easy on him. I struggled, bucking and twisting.
The thief plucked my tank top strap and released it with a snap. A jolt of heat shivered through me. “Don’t worry, there’s still time to show me how nice you can be.”
Reaching out, he picked the candle off the ground where it had fallen.
It was one of the decorations I ordered, a set of tapers to glow in the windows to cast an inviting light over the empty rooms downstairs.
If I’d have known they would invite the monsters to come inside, I would never have ordered them!
Liar….
The thief drew the flaming, plastic tip down the center of my chest. “Choose. Am I bringing presents or leaving you with coal?”
“You’re going to hurt me.” I hated how small my voice was.
He shook his head. “I’ll never cause you pain.” He twisted my hands, capturing both wrists in only one of his large paws. “Well, not unless you ask me to.”
What is wrong with me? Was it messed up to feel tempted by this offer from a man whose name I didn’t even know?
“Tell me your name,” I demanded.
The candle’s flame circled over my belly before skimming over the elastic of my sleeper shorts.
“You can call me Kris Kringle,” he chuckled. “It’s close enough.”
I jerked in his hold. “I’m not playing unless you give me the truth.”
With a sigh, he rolled on top of me. Good grief, he was heavy. Every pound weighed more because it was solid muscle pinning my legs to the ground.
“It’s Cristiano.”
Such a beautiful name. A whole, unfit name to call the devil looming above me. Something tickled in the back of my mind, but I was too alive, too on fire, to care what my higher faculties of reasoning were trying to tell me.
“Choose, angel. Am I leaving…or staying?” He drew the candle down the curve of my hip, brushed it across my center, and pulled it back up the other side.
My core tightened in response.
I bit my lip. His gaze dropped to track the motion. He let out a muffled curse. It wasn’t German or French, but the language sounded familiar.
While other girls picked up guys at the clubs, I preferred to stay at home, dreaming of men like this. Men who didn’t walk the same sun-kissed sidewalks in suits and ties.
I’m so screwed. Some twisted, insane part of me conceded. My hips tipped up, a silent invitation for him to continue. I gave him a short nod.
“I knew you wanted to play nice,” he smiled. While I couldn’t see the teeth behind the mask, I felt them flash at me.
Leaning down, the thief blew a deep exhale over the thin cotton sleeper shorts. The hot breath bled through the material, straight onto my core. “These are in my way.”
A black, lethal-looking knife sprang open in his other hand.
Gasping because I couldn’t suck in enough air to scream, I lurched back. But between his weight on my legs and the hand he placed on my belly, it was useless. In the orange flicker of the electric flame, I watched as he sliced the shorts neatly in two places.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt me?” I choked.