A minute later, I step out wearing nothing but a Santa hat, some cheap red velvet trousers with suspenders, and a fake white beard that barely clings to my face.
Caleb’s halfway to sitting up when he sees me, and promptly chokes on his water.
“Jesus Christ,” he sputters, wiping his mouth. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
“Language,” I rumble in my best low Santa voice, hands on my hips. “You’ll end up on the naughty list.”
His laugh is instant and bright. “I think it’s too late for that.”
“Maybe.” I grin, stalking closer, voice dropping to a growl. “But the good news is…”
He swallows hard, eyes flicking down my bare tattooed chest to the trousers that leave little to the imagination.
“…looks like Santa gets to come early this year.”
SEVEN
CALEB
I’m still laughingwhen he starts toward me, all six foot two of muscle and trouble in nothing but a Santa hat and those awful trousers, full of stubbornness and Christmas spirit.
“Holy shit, Miguel.” My voice breaks halfway through the laugh. “You’re out of your damn mind.”
“You already knew that.” His grin is wolfish. “You’re the one who unleashed me.”
He prowls closer, slow and steady, until the only thing I can hear is the rustle of the fake beard and the thud of my pulse. The dying firelight paints him in gold and red, muscles flexing as he moves, eyes dark with something that isn’t exactly festive, but it sure as hell is merry.
“You’re gonna regret this,” I tell him, trying so hard to keep my voice even.
He cocks a brow. “Why’s that?”
“Because now every time I hear ‘Here Comes Santa Claus,’ I’m gonna think about you naked in a Santa hat.”
Miguel snorts, laughter rumbling low in his chest. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Depends on who’s around,” I shoot back, biting my lip to keep from smiling too wide.
“Okay, that’s a fair statement.” He closes the last bit of distance and hooks a finger through my belt loop, tugging me closer until we’re chest to chest. “You got a problem, pretty boy?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “You’re wearing fewer clothes than I am.”
“Am I?” he teases, eyes dropping down, unzipping my coat. “Think I can fix that.”
I can’t stop laughing, not really, not with how ridiculous and stupidly hot he looks in that hat. I grab it, pluck it right off his head, and jam it onto mine. “There. Now who’s Santa?”
Miguel stares at me for a second, then drags his teeth over his bottom lip like he’s trying not to grin. “You sure you want that responsibility?”
“Why not?” I shoot him a playful glare. “I’m a generous guy.”
“Mm.” He tilts his head, pretending to think. “Generous, huh? You sure about that?”
“Absolutely. Ask anyone.”
He leans in, voice low enough that it’s almost a growl. “I’m not asking anyone but you.”
My breath catches. “And what if I’ve been a bad boy this year?”
His smile turns sharp. “Then you’re lucky Santa’s feeling merciful.”
