Jacob Shaw cracked an eye open, instantly regretting it as a ray of sunlight seared into his retina, jumpstarting all of his senses seemingly at once. His head felt like a broken egg, his eyeballs like sandpaper. He peeled his tongue from the roof of his mouth, shivering as goosebumps broke out along his skin at the very obvious breeze across his backside. It was freezing, wherever he was.
Holding out a hand to hopefully block the sun, he tried to open his swollen eyes once more and frowned as he realized he was looking at a black booted foot and red velvet pants lined with white fur. Dread and confusion pooling in his belly, he allowed his gaze to crawl higher, eyes widening when he saw the waistband of the pants caught around thick thighs covered with dark hair and attached to an equally furry, very muscular butt.
The bear of a man inhaled deeply, letting out a loud snore, before burrowing deeper into the pillow.
“Oh, my…stars,” Jacob whispered, biting his lip, feeling like a pervert for staring at the man without his consent. He leaned up onto his elbow and looked down at himself. “Oh…no.”
What the frick was he wearing? He wore a short lycra green shirt that exposed more than it covered and had gold buttons painted on it. He supposed it could have been an elf-like costume if it was a costume made for a small child? His whole abdomen was exposed right down to the red and green colored…underwear? Except, there was no back to them; his butt was as exposed as Santa’s.
He had red and green socks that stopped just above his thighs, but he had no shoes.
Frick. Frick. Frick. What was he supposed to do with socks, half a shirt and underwear that only covered his front? He rolled off the bed and hit the floor like he was taking cover, but mostly, he was just hoping the rest of his clothing might be on the floor. Unfortunately, the only thing on the floor was Santa’s jacket and his other boot. Crap. He picked up the huge leather boot, running a finger over it. It looked like a work boot, definitely not just for costume purposes. The toes were scuffed and the tread caked with mud. Mud. Outside. He had to get home.
He crawled to the window, unable to hide his disappointed sigh. It was a white-out. Snow covered the windows, and the red pickup truck parked out front was buried past the doors. He slowly looked back at the huge half-naked man slumbering in what Jacob could only assume was the man’s own bed. Was Jacob supposed to wake him? Was this a one night stand situation? Had they had sex?
Did he lose his virginity to…a guy dressed as Santa? Had Jacob worn this for him? He had to admit, he’d expected his first time to be less…kinky. But, at his age, he supposed he should just be grateful somebody had finally just done the deed.
Jacob may have grown up in a cult, but he did know that there was a certain etiquette to one night stands. He’d seen movies. He’d never imagined he’d be living in one, especially not one that felt like it started like a dirty adult movie, but that didn’t change his circumstances. He needed to know how he got there so he could start figuring out how to leave. He collapsed against the wall below the window and watched the man’s back rise and fall with his deep snores.
He was sexy. Definitely older than Jacob…by a lot. But not Santa old. His hair was a dark chestnut, and it stood up all around his head like a baby bird. He had creases at his forehead and at the corners of his eyes, and his broad nose had a bump like it had been repeatedly broken, but that didn’t take away from the man’s looks. He had thick dark brows and full lips that were parted with sleep. Who was he?
Jacob pulled his knees up and balanced his elbows there, holding his broken head. What was the last thing he remembered? A party. Robby’s party. No, Elite’s Christmas party. Where Robby’s husband used to work. They’d been at a hotel…in Vegas. They’d had champagne, and there were so many people. He remembered Robby telling Jacob to slow down. But then nothing. Robby. His brother. He needed his brother. He looked around for anything that might be a phone, but there was nothing.
That’s when he spotted it. It had to be Santa’s phone. It wasn’t Jacob’s, and it was plugged in dangerously close to the man’s head, not even on the table, just on the starched white sheets that made the man’s deep tan look like he glowed. How did anybody have a tan in the middle of December?
Jacob took a deep breath and crept his way back to the king size bed, wincing when it made a creaking sound. Jacob’s hand was around the phone when Santa opened his hazel eyes and raised one thick brow.
“Hello.”
“Um, hi,” Jacob said, heart beating so fast he was almost certain it was trying to escape his chest, like a cartoon character. “I didn’t mean to wake you, but I can’t find my phone or the rest of my shirt or…the back of my underwear for that matter, and I’m not sure what we did or didn’t do last night, and honestly, I don’t want to know. I mean, I thought losing my virginity would be special or I’d at least remember some sign of it, but, hey, it’s just one more thing to check off my list, right? But anyway, I need to get out of here, so can you call an Uber or a taxi or whatever they have out here in the sticks?” Jacob knew he was babbling, but there was no stopping the words just vomiting out of him without slowing, especially when his gaze landed on the man’s left hand. “Oh, frick. You’re married? Oh, my…word.” As the man’s amused look became one of confusion, then anger, Jacob realized he may have made an error. “Listen, I’m not judging. I was there, too. I think? It doesn’t matter, really. We all make mistakes. Right? If you could just point me in the direction of my clothes and my phone, I’ll get out of here before your husband…or wife, I guess, comes home.”
“I don’t have a husband…or a wife,” Santa said, rolling into a sitting position and digging his palm into his right eye.
“You have a ring,” Jacob said, mouth flattening, as he glared at the ring in question.
“So do you,” Santa retorted, staring pointedly at Jacob’s left hand.
Jacob’s brows knitted together as his gaze fell to his left hand and the dainty silver band on his ring finger. “I’m definitely not married.”
“Well, neither am I. Do you have a name?” the man asked, stretching muscular arms over his head and tilting his neck until it popped. Jacob looked away from the man’s soft cock laying against his thigh. He appeared to be the only one bothered by this.
“Jacob… Jacob Shaw,” he managed.
“You’re one of Robby’s brothers, right? Let me guess. The baby one. No, that can’t be right, he’d be barely seventeen. Oh, fuck, kid. You’re legal, aren’t you?”
Jacob scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m his older brother. I’m twenty-six.”
Once more, his brow fishhooked upward, his expression dubious. “You sure about that? I’m pretty sure I could fit you in my pocket.” He looked down at his pants tangled around his thighs before standing and adjusting them back into place. “If I had pockets.”
“Do you have a name?” Jacob asked, still annoyed about the jab at his height. It was true that he wasn’t tall, barely five foot three, but this man was abnormally large, not super tall, but just large.
“Connolly,” the man muttered.
“Is that your first name or your last?”
“Just Connolly.”
“Do you remember what happened last night, just Connolly? Because I don’t remember anything after arriving at the Christmas party.”
