“You have five minutes,” Rosie whispers before she slams the door shut.
13
LENA
“What the fuck is happening?” I whip around, my fingers still clutching the bag.
Gavin reaches behind me to flick on the light, bathing us in its dim glow. He has a knowing glint in his eye like he finds this whole situation hilarious, and it's disorienting.
“We’re playing dress-up.” He shrugs like that statement is a completely normal thing to say.
I feel like an error code is whirling in front of my face while I try to understand. Which is exceptionally frustrating because I like to think I have a firm grip on reality most of the time.
But instead, I’m stuck in a poorly lit closet with a man who makes the space feel like a tiny suitcase, and I’m supposed to be playingdress-up?
He bends to lift a bag from the ground. “I’m Santa, and I’m pretty sure you are signed on as my Mrs. Claus.”
The wordsmy Mrs. Clausburrow under my skin. The idea of Mrs. Claus is not inherently sexy. Hell, neither is Santa, but something about being calledhiswarms my cheeks.
“What happened to the original Santa and Mrs. Claus?”
“Stomach flu,” Gavin says with a wince, kicking off his shoes.
“Oh shit.”
“Literally,” he deadpans, and a giggle bursts out of me.
Gavin’s sock-covered toes draw my attention, only a few inches from my purple boots. “Probably have about four minutes left at this point.” The zipper buzzes on his bag as he opens it and rifles through its contents. “I’ll turn around,” he says as he faces away from me.
My brain feels like it’s crawling through sludge, but it’s finally making sense of things.
Closet. Dress-up. Gavin.
I’m going to change in this closet with Gavin.
My pulse beats like a drum in my skull, and I can’t decide if it’s from excitement or nerves.
He stands there a moment, perfectly still, before his hands move to the bottom of his sweater. With a deep breath, he pulls the fabric up his body, over his shoulders, and off his head in one quick swoop.
The room immediately transforms into a sauna, the air so thick with heat that I almost can’t breathe. Maybe we should’ve turned off the lights for this, because with his back and shoulders on display, every muscle showcased a foot away from me, I can’t think clearly anymore.
Dark lines of ink cover his back, and I let myself take in as much of the details as possible. I swallow hard as I track the raven covering one shoulder blade, wishing I could feel the feathers beneath my fingers.
But then a clink of metal ricochets through the tiny room as he flicks open his belt. I’m frozen in place as the soft sounds of his hands against the leather send a flush of arousal through my body.
A quiet gasp leaves my lips, and I force myself to whip around and face the door. Leather rasps through belt loops, and I squeeze my eyes shut as hot, heady, forbidden images flash through my mind.
When I hear the zipper, my heart stops. The metallic buzz echoes through the room, and my core aches with need.
Fuck. This is Gavin.
I’m not supposed to be thinking about him like this. There are children outside, waiting to meet Santa and Mrs. Claus. I shouldn’t be in here listening to every goddamn detail of his undressing like he’s putting on a show for me.
The thought hits me like a snowball to the face.
Is he doing this on purpose?Is he trying to make me lose my mind with the sensual sounds of stripping out of his clothes?
Maybe it’s payback for that audiobook.
