Chapter 4 Simone #2
"You've got a white spot," he rumbled.
I glanced up, momentarily confused. He towered over me, this close, I could see details I'd missed before, the fine silver veining in his red skin, the way his pupils were shaped like inverted diamonds in pools of molten gold, the subtle patterns etched into his horns that seemed to shift and change if I looked at them too long.
He raised one hand, and I flinched instinctively, a reaction that made his eyes narrow slightly.
But instead of whatever I'd feared (or hoped for, if I'm being completely honest), he extended a single clawed finger and brushed it gently across my cheek.
The touch was feather-light, the pad of his finger surprisingly soft against my skin despite the dangerous talon tipping it.
"Flour," he explained, showing me the white powder on his fingertip.
My breath caught in my throat. Such an innocent explanation for a touch that felt anything but. His gaze traveled slowly over my face, lingering on my lips before returning to my eyes. "What are you hiding, little star?"
Little star. The words sent a shiver down my spine.
"Just my secret plan for café domination," I quipped, aiming for humor but landing somewhere in the vicinity of breathless flirtation. "First The Hearth, then the world. All shall bow before my peppermint mochas."
The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something adjacent to amusement.
His finger, still hovering near my face, traced a line from my cheekbone to my jaw with excruciating gentleness.
My heart hammered so loudly I was certain he could hear it, a frantic percussion announcing my body's betrayal.
"Deflection," he murmured, his claw now tracing the curve of my lower lip. "Interesting defense mechanism. Look me in the eye and tell me what you fear, Simone Parker."
The use of my full name jolted through me like an electric current.
I forced my gaze upward, intending a quick, defiant glance.
But once caught in those eyes, I couldn't look away.
His pupil expanded slightly as we stared at each other, the blackness eating into the gold like an eclipse devouring the sun.
I'd meant to say something witty. Instead, what came out was raw truth:
"Losing this place," I whispered. "It's all I have."
Something flickered across his face, surprise, perhaps, at my honesty. Or maybe recognition of the vulnerability I'd just exposed. For a heartbeat, I thought I saw something soften in those predatory eyes. His thumb brushed across my cheek in what could almost be mistaken for a caress.
"All you have," he repeated, his voice a contemplative rumble. "We'll see about that."
The air between us crackled. I was suddenly, acutely aware of how close we were standing, heat radiating from his body which had me effectively trapped between the counter and his chest. If he leaned down just slightly, his lips would—
"I need to check on the... the thing," I blurted, ducking beneath his arm in a graceless escape attempt. "In the back. The important thing. That needs checking. Right now."
I backed away, nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste to put distance between us.
"By all means," he said, making no move to stop me. "Don't let me prevent you from... checking things."
The way he said "checking things" made it clear I wasn't fooling him. My face burned as I turned and fled toward the kitchen, my only potential sanctuary from the intensity of his presence.
My pulse pounded in my throat, each beat a reminder of how thoroughly he'd affected me with nothing more than a touch and a few words.
My breathing came in uneven gasps, as if I'd run a marathon rather than simply standing too close to my intimidating boss.
My legs felt unsteady, wobbling like I'd had three shots of espresso on an empty stomach.
I pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen, desperate for a moment to collect myself.
To remember why giving in to this attraction was the worst possible idea.
And convince my treacherous body that distance was more important than the heat still lingering where his claw had traced my lip.
I'd barely caught my breath when the door swung open behind me.
Krampus ducked through the entrance, his horns nearly scraping the top of the doorframe.
He closed the door, the soft click of the latch echoing in the suddenly silent room.
We were alone, truly alone, for the first time since he'd stormed into my café and turned my carefully ordered world upside down.
He stood between me and the only exit, his broad shoulders blocking any hope of escape.
Not that I was certain I wanted to escape anymore.
The rational part of my brain screamed about boundaries and power dynamics, but it was rapidly being drowned out by the part that noticed how his eyes seemed to glow brighter in the kitchen's softer lighting.
Time stretched like pulled taffy, sweet and sticky and impossible to measure.
The café beyond the door fell silent, as though the entire building was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
Or maybe that was just me, my lungs suddenly forgetting how to perform their basic function as he took one step closer, then another.
"Running away?" His voice was low, almost teasing, but with an edge that raised goosebumps along my arms.
"Not running," I managed, my back pressed against the metal prep table. "Just trying to keep things…professional."
His mouth curved into something too predatory to be called a smile. "Professional," he repeated. "Is that what we're calling this?"
He moved closer until I could smell him, an intoxicating blend of smoke and pine and winter nights.
"Calling what?" I asked, my voice embarrassingly breathy.
His eyes tracked slowly down my body, lingering on my lips, my throat, the curve of my breasts beneath my dress. When he looked back into my eyes, the look of wanting made my knees weak.
"This," he said simply. "This tension that crackles between us every time I come near you. This scent of arousal that follows you like perfume whenever I enter a room."
My face blazed with heat. "I don't—I'm not—"
"Lies," he rumbled, leaning closer until his breath tickled my ear. "Your body betrays you, Simone. Your heart races. Your pupils dilate. Your skin warms." One clawed finger traced a line from my collarbone to the hollow of my throat, where my pulse hammered visibly. "You want me."
The accusation hung in the air between us, daring me to deny it. I opened my mouth, ready to offer some weak protest about employee-employer relations. But what emerged instead was a simple, devastating truth.
"Yes."
The confession seemed to surprise us both.
His eyes widened fractionally, and for a heartbeat, he was perfectly still.
Then something shifted in his expression, hunger overtaking surprise.
With startling clarity, I realized I wanted him to kiss me.
Needed it like air. The thought had barely formed before he closed the remaining distance between us, one massive hand cupping the back of my neck while the other settled possessively at my waist. His lips were warmer than human, firm yet surprisingly soft as they pressed against mine.
The contact sent electricity crackling through me, a jolt of pure sensation that had me gasping against his mouth.
He took immediate advantage, his tongue, longer than a human's sliding between my parted lips to tangle with mine.
I melted against him, my hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his suit.
His growl of approval vibrated through my entire body.
The kiss was nothing like I'd imagined, and I had imagined it, in shameful detail during the sleepless night after our first meeting.
It was better. Hotter. More consuming. His hand slid from my waist to palm my ass, strong fingers kneading the flesh as he dragged me closer against him.
The evidence of his desire pressed hard and insistent against my stomach, larger than I'd expected, sending another flood of heat between my thighs.
My nipples tightened to aching points, sensitive even through the layers of my bra and dress.
A soft moan escaped me when his tongue traced the seam of my lips before delving deeper, claiming my mouth with thorough possession.
His claws pressed gently into the nape of my neck, a reminder of the danger I was playing with, only heightening the thrill coursing through me.
Heat pooled in my stomach and lower, wetness gathering between my legs in embarrassing abundance.
I'd never responded so quickly to anyone before, never felt desire like a living thing clawing at my insides, demanding satisfaction.
The door to the pastry kitchen suddenly banged open, the sound as jarring as a gunshot. We broke apart, though Krampus kept one possessive hand at my waist, unwilling to fully release me despite the interruption.
Silas stood in the doorway, a tray of chocolate éclairs tilting precariously in his hands.
Drips of dark ganache slid toward the edges as he froze, ruby eyes widening at the scene before him.
His gaze darted between us, taking in my swollen lips, disheveled appearance, and the guilty look I knew was all over my face.
"Unless you're frosting cakes, keep it outta my kitchen," he declared, recovering his composure with admirable speed. "And if I find any questionable substances on my counters, I'm quitting."
I wanted to die. Right there. Just spontaneously combust and be done with the humiliation. If the floor opened up and swallowed me, I wouldn't even fight it. I'd just say thank you to whatever merciful deity had decided to end my suffering.
Krampus, by contrast, seemed entirely unruffled. His thumb traced small circles on my hip, maintaining contact even as he straightened to his full, imposing height. The smirk playing at the corners of his mouth made it clear he was thoroughly enjoying my flustered state.
"Your kitchen has been... enlightening," he said to Silas.
Silas rolled his eyes dramatically. "I bet. Next time, try the storage closet like everyone else."
I buried my face in my hands. "Silas, please."
"What?" He shrugged, setting down his tray and rearranging the éclairs that had shifted during his entrance. "I'm just saying, some of us have to work on these surfaces. With food. That people eat."
Krampus released me slowly, his claw dragging along my hip in a possessive gesture that promised this interruption was temporary at best. He stepped back, creating distance between us that felt both necessary and unbearable.
"We'll continue our... discussion... later," he said, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made fresh heat spiral through me despite my mortification.
I could only nod, not trusting my voice to form coherent words. He turned to leave, at the door, he paused, casting one final, lingering look over his shoulder, a look that contained such blatant promise my heart stuttered.
Then he was gone, leaving behind only the certainty that everything had changed.
Silas waited approximately three seconds before rounding on me, his expression a mixture of horror and delight. "Sweet infernal hellfire, Simone! When I said you should climb him like a Christmas tree, I didn't mean in my kitchen!"
But I barely heard him. My fingers traced my lips, still tingling from Krampus's kiss, while my mind raced ahead to whatever "later" might bring.
One thing was certain, this was no longer just about keeping my job.
It was about figuring out how to navigate the dangerous, thrilling waters between professional ambition and personal desire.
And based on the heat still pulsing between my thighs, desire was currently winning by a landslide.