Chapter 13
Kinsley
When I opened the closet, I startled. Hanging front and center was a little red velvet number trimmed in white faux fur, with a flirty skirt and a fitted bodice that left just enough to the imagination.
“Mrs. Claus?” I murmured. “Ohh…the Reaper—”
“Can kick rocks. Today you are my Mrs. Claus.”
I spun toward the sound of his voice. He leaned against the doorway.
I held up the hanger, the fabric swaying between us. “You realize this borders dangerously close to costume-party territory, right? Are we role playing, because if so, I have ideas.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do. Maybe you can share them in the car. But you’re going to look perfect in that,” he said smoothly, strolling over and plucking the hanger from my hands. “With the stripped thigh highs…fuck…” his voice trailed off as his fingers danced across the top of my thigh.
I peeked behind the dress and, sure enough, candy-cane striped ones greeted me. He’d thought of everything. “An elf would’ve been cuter,” I teased, arching a brow. “You know I’m bite-sized.”
“You’ll be the sexiest Mrs. Claus in all of London. And if you’re a good girl for me, I’ll let you sit on my lap, later.”
“Just your lap?” I teased, slipping onto the tips of his boots, balancing myself as if they were pointe shoes.
Time to tempt him with touch. Even on tiptoes, ankles arched, body stretching up, I still barely brushed his collar bones. He smirked down at me, infuriatingly tall, until finally he bent so our lips met.
The kiss was warm and intimate, stealing the air from my lungs. His mouth was firm, steady, the taste of syrup still lingering there, and when I opened, he accepted the invitation, deepening it. I clung to his sweater, pressing my chest against him before dragging my nipples across the front.
“Mm,” I hummed against his mouth, pulling back enough to let my lips graze his. “Distracted yet?”
He glanced downward, one brow arching at my unapologetic attempt to seduce him. For a heartbeat, he looked tempted. A soft moan escaped as he caressed my nipples. Then his hand dropped lower and heat exploded against my ass as he slapped it.
“Naughty girl,” he scolded, voice low enough to curl in my stomach. “Trying to derail me before we’ve even leave the house.”
I grinned, unrepentant, and stepped back down to the floor. “Can’t blame a woman for trying.”
With no warning, he hooked a finger in the waistband of my sleep shorts and tugged them down with little ceremony. I sucked in a sharp breath, heart skipping when the ridiculous panties I’d forgotten about came into view.
They were cotton and had a gingerbread man smiling across the front, with the words Eat Me scrawled in festive red letters.
His brows shot up, and he blinked twice before his lips curved into a wicked grin. “Why am I not surprised? Your level of commitment to the holidays should be studied.”
“What can I say? I’m festive.”
“You’re a menace. Is this your idea of subtle?” he murmured.
“Yes, Sir. I have layers,” I whispered.
“I’m aware,” he said, reaching out. With one hand bracing my hip, he brought the other up and dragged the pad of his finger across the raised stitching. My breath hitched as he repeated the gesture starting over again. This time with a little more pressure.
E-A-T M-E.
I shifted on my feet, body leaning toward him on instinct.
“But this? This is not subtle. This is a declaration,” he growled low, the rumble at the back of his throat.
A soft moan escaped as his fingertip slid beneath the seam, teasing the flesh of my stomach.
Lower. Please.
My heart raced as his finger seemed to read my mind. But then, at the last minute, he pulled back.
“You’re lucky I like a brat with a sense of humor.”
I let out a breathy laugh, my hands curling into loose fists at my sides. He pressed a kiss above the lettering, letting it linger until a full-body shudder coursed through me.
“You feeling needy already, love?
“Yes, Sir.” I moaned.
“Good.” He gave a slow shake of his head and then yanked the cotton panties down. My pulse jumped, heat racing in my chest. This was it—finally.
But instead of pinning me against the wall, he crouched at my feet and picked up the pair of candy cane thigh-highs from the pile he’d set aside.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, my heart sinking.
Maybe he wanted to fuck me in them. Maybe all hope wasn’t lost.
“Lift,” he ordered. “We don’t have all day, now.”
I huffed, then rolled my eyes but obeyed, balancing on one leg as he slid the first stocking up the length of my calf, then my thigh, smoothing it into place. His hands were warm, steady, reverent in a way that made my chest ache. By the time he finished with the second, I was panting softly.
“You may as well strap my blade on too, since you’re down there,” I teased.
He looked up at me with a gleam in his eye. “No blade needed. I’ll be with you the entire time.”
“Doesn’t matter. I should still carry mine.” I squared my shoulders. “I won’t have some random blonde bimbo snatching you and running the minute I look away.”
He laughed as my heat rushed to my cheeks. It was this deep, low rumble that warmed me down to my toes.
“Snatch me and run, huh?”
“Yes. It could happen,” I insisted, chin tilted. “You are my beloved. Mine. Exclusively. You think there’s not a girl out there who might come across you and your gorgeous aqua to die for eyes and not fall headfirst?”
“Okay but you didn’t answer the question. I’m a little big to snatch and run.”
“Doesn’t matter. Have you never come across a desperate woman—don’t answer that. I don’t want the visual. Of course you have. Barbie is just waiting. I know it. Wandering Hyde Park all desperate-like—”
“Who said anything about Hyde Park?” he interrupted.
“I’m smart, you know. Your mother mentioned the big charity event she has this weekend. She somehow roped Isabella and Bash to attend. Said your dad was looking forward to not having to fill in as Santa this year. I put two and two together.”
He stilled for half a beat, then one corner of his mouth curved, equal parts impressed and annoyed. “You are a smart cookie,” he admitted, leaning closer as though sharing a secret. “Dangerously smart. Which makes surprising you difficult.”
“But back to barbie—”
“Oh, yes the desperate one?”
“Exactly. She could snuggle up next to you all doe eyed as she whispers in your ear what she wants for Christmas.”
“And that would be?”
“My prized beast with a monster in his pants.”
He choked. Then, with zero warning, he threw his head back and roared with laughter.
“Prized beast?” he managed.
“Yes, with a monster in his pants,” I repeated.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
I huffed, placing my hands squarely on my hips. “Look,” I said, voice raised to cut through the lingering sound of his amusement. “All I’m saying is I’m not leaving you out there unprotected. I’m naive—I’ll give you that—but I am not dumb.”
He wiped at his eyes, the last of his laughter lingering in the curve of his smirk. “Never said you were, love. But you’re absolutely insane.”
“No. I’m staking my claim.” My blade was within reach, so I grabbed it and clutched it dramatically to my chest. “Look, I’m the only one who is allowed to wear your brand.
Remember our exclusivity clause. It doesn’t expire.
Ever. And that means no one else gets to be the…
uh…receptacle for your holiday spirit. It’s all mine. ”
There was a split second of stunned silence, and then he detonated.
It started with a sharp inhale—like he wasn’t sure he had heard me right—and then the man howled. Full-bodied, head-thrown-back, doubled-over laughter. I could hear him trying, and failing, to breathe through it.
“Oh my God,” he wheezed, “You did not just call yourself—”
“I didn’t say it outright!” I protested, face flaming as the heat licked through my cheeks.
“Yeah, no. I heard you. This one is going in the books and being shared in the next you’ll never guess what the little shit said today notebook.”
I folded my arms, lips twitching. “Well, I am all that and more. Plus the new way sounds festive. Efficient and environmentally conscious, too.”
He struggled even harder to catch his breath. “Stooopp. Jesus, you’re killing me.” He paused, wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. “Festive…that’s you alright and you are absolutely efficient.”
“You’re poking fun at me now aren’t you?” I pouted.
“Not trying to, honestly. But I’ve never heard anyone swap the term cum bucket for what did you call it again?”
“Holiday spirit receptacle. Maybe you should write it down… although it might be a mouthful to say in the moment, now that I think about it.”
That only set him off more. Probably because he was a visual person, and was likely trying to imagine the scenario, as was I.
“Yes—I can see it now…” His voice rose several octaves to mimic mine. “Blade make me your—”
Yup, I was right. I needed to get us back on track here. “Alright point made but I still stand by the concept.”
“Got it. You’re so adorable and one hundred percent deranged. Possibly certifiable.”
“You say deranged. I say I am the defender of the holiday spirit,” I shot back, chest puffed out proudly. “And I will do it unto death.”
Then I dropped into a dramatic crouch, practically naked and losing the seriousness I was going for, but I was committed now, so I unsheathed my blade and raised it to the heavens.
“If I fall in battle, my beloved, promise you’ll bury me with my blade and hang fairy lights on my grave. I’d like to request ‘Last Christmas’ at my funeral.”
The laughter that spilled forth only warmed my heart even more. This was what I’d been missing. Just being silly with them and creating new memories that he would never forget. Because let’s be real, the ass I’d made of myself would not be easily forgotten.
“Let’s get you dressed fully, you damn lunatic. Before I cancel the whole day and bend you over the bed, little defender.”
“Oh, so we can start filling the receptacle early then?”