I was just about to push away when a hand gripped my waist andyankedme back. I didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.
Lachlan.
The heat of him against my back made me gasp.
“Mind if I cut in?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes fixed on the man that had gone too far with a glare that could melt you into a puddle.
He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned me toward him, hands firm on my waist, and then without hesitation, he cupped my face, moved to the nape of my neck, and he kissed me.
And I forgot the world.
I melted into him.
The kiss wasn’t rushed. This didn’t feel like it was for show. It was slow, controlled, devastatingly intentional. Like he was trying to memorize my mouth, savoring every second.
I whimpered—actuallywhimpered—as he deepened it, his tongue sliding past my lips like he’d dreamed of doing it and didn’t want to waste a single moment. I wrapped my arms around his neck like he was the only thing tethering me to the floor.
My fingers curled into his hair.
God, I wanted this to be real. Ineededit to be. Wait, it was actually happening!
But then he pulled back, resting his forehead against mine, and I knew it was over before he even said it.
“The cops are watching. I saw them come in. I-I had to do something,” he whispered.
And my heart cracked.
“Oh,” I breathed as all that warmth, that electricity,that hopedrained out of me.
Of course it had been for show. And it was my fucked-up head that was making me feel all these things for a man that I’d known I was getting into a fake relationship with when all of this had started. I’d done this to myself.
Lachlan had made it clear this was pretend, and so had I.
“I need some air,” I choked out, not trusting myself to say more, and turned away before he could see my eyes glisten.
I stumbled out the back door, the cold night cutting through the haze of alcohol. My cheeks burned. My lips still tingled. My heart—god, my heart was screaming at me for being so stupid.
Then I was yanked.
Hard.
A chest collided with mine.
“I’m tired of this hard-to-get shit,” a voice growled. The man’s breath was sour with liquor. “You were practically bouncing on my lap earlier.”
The Santa. The guy I’d been dancing with inside had been the Santa from the farm.
My blood ran cold.
“Let go of me!” I shouted, panic flooding every inch of me. I kneed him hard in the groin, heard the uglyoofas he doubled over. I ran, heart pounding, and crashed straight into someone solid.
Lachlan.
He had burst through the back door like a storm.
“Hey—Logan, are you alright? What’s wrong?” His voice was sharper now, protective. His hands steadied me, his arms strong and safe, and I hated how quickly I felt okay in them.
“Nothing,” I answered, even though everything wasnot okay. “I’m ready to go home. Now.”
