She wants me.
Bad enough to dream about me.
Bad enough that seeing me afterward turns her into a nervous wreck.
I silently step away before I’m caught listening, heart racing, control hanging by a thread. I dump my lunch in the bin and head back to my office.
At my desk, my eyes drift, unbidden, to the email with the Secret Santa spreadsheet. Sara mentioned she thought Liz was nervous because of the “Secret Santa thing.”
I click open the email and then the attachment, and I scroll down the list of employees until I find her name.
Liz Harper.
Her assigned recipient: Ethan Reynolds.
Of course.
The irony almost makes me laugh.
She’s stressing because she pulled my name. And somehow losing sleep over what to buy me triggered a dream. A hot and sweaty sex dream. The. Best. Kind.
I, on the other hand, have been assigned to… Mark from accounting.
I close my eyes. No, that won’t do.
By the end of the day, I’ve decided.
I will find whoever has Liz Harper’s name.
I will trade. Bribe. Manipulate the holiday spirit if I have to.
Because she’s finally dreaming about me the way I constantly dream about her while my hand works my dick the way I want her sweet pussy and mouth to do.
And this Christmas? Santa’s going to give me what I want. What’s been on the top of my list for months.
I’m not watching from the sidelines anymore.
I’m going after the sexy girl I’ve craved from afar for what feels like forever.
Chapter Four
ETHAN
I’ve never liked Christmas.
That alone wouldn’t make me special. Half the office grumbles about the music and the forced cheer, but my dislike runs quieter than that. Christmas feels like pressure. Expectations wrapped in ribbon. Obligations pretending to be joy. Basically, how it’s like to be around my family any day of the week. But any day of the week, I can avoid them. At Christmas, not so much. At least not without creating even more drama and pressure.
Liz Harper, I learn, feels the same way. Well, I don’t know how she feels about her family, but she’s not a fan of Christmas.
I catch it in the way she sighs when someone mentions the office party. The way she rubs her temples while scrolling through online shopping during lunch. The way she winces when someone turns up the volume on yet another rendition ofJingle Bell Rock.
She’s even more perfect for me than I thought.
The Secret Santa spreadsheet glows on my screen, neat and harmless-looking. If they knew how much power it holds, HR would revoke my admin access immediately.
I don’t hesitate.
Sally in accounting is my first stop. She’s nursing a burnt coffee and looks like she regrets every life choice that led her here.
