“No worries,” I manage through my mortification.
The family steps away as Santa resumes his throne.
“I can’t believe you told on him.” I shake my head.
“If boys are not held responsible for their actions when they’re young, they grow up to be self-serving, arrogant, little pricks.”
“That’s what you teach in class, is it? Don’t grow up to be a self-serving, arrogant, little prick?” I smirk over my shoulder at him, spying him slouched in the chair, legs spread wide. Even in the suit, the stuffing, and the fake beard, I’m a little turned on.What is wrong with me?
“Too right,” he grins. “That and don’t be a whiny lil’ bitch,” he stage-whispers to avoid offending tiny ears.
“Yes,sir.” I don’t know why my body dips in a little half-curtsey with my teasing, but Jake’s humour fades and he raises a brow with a fire burning in his eyes, sending heat between my legs. Damn.
Before long, the queue to meet Santa is building again so we dutifully bring the children forward one-by-one. I listen in as Jake puts on an overly deep voice, throwing in the occasional ‘ho ho ho.’ The kids love him—who wouldn’t? Sooner rather than later we have seen all the children and Lisa allows us to step away from the grotto but laughs when we tell her we haven’t brought a change of clothes.
So we mingle as Santa and his elf. Jake is getting antsy, fidgeting and shifting from one foot to the other. I notice him plucking at the fake bulge on his abdomen and every so often, Lisa bats his hand away. Poor thing must be getting uncomfortable with his added insulation. For some reason, I find it highly amusing.
We’re split up as Jake is dragged to play with Lucas and Oscar, while Cami and Hen want to introduce me to a group of ladies they’ve been telling everything about me and my photography. I think they’re trying to drum up business for me and it feels impolite to tell them that I’m fully booked for six months. Making polite conversation, my eyes keep drifting to Jake and every time, I catch him looking at me. That kiss is playing on my mind, and I want that conversation over with. I want to be out of this purgatory of not knowing what is happening between us. I also want to kiss him again. Judging by the look he’s giving me, he’s thinking a similar thing.
Unspoken agreements seem to be made and we make our excuses. To be honest, this little soirée is quite fun, and I would be happy to stay a while, which is quite unlike me. It seems navigating social functions is so much easier with the watchful eye of Jake Partridge on me. Nonetheless, I have a distinct feeling the hotel is where I want to be right now.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Are you ticklish, little elf?”
NEL
"Oh my god. Open the fucking door, Forrest, or I’m going to strip in the hallway.”
“I’m trying!” I giggle as the electronic lock flashes red once more. I think my laughter is hindering my ability right now and I’ll admit that the thought of Jake getting naked in the corridor is not making me go any faster.
“Try harder,” he snarls in my ear. It’s all in jest but that gravelly rasp blowing air over the back of my ear, hitting that sweet spot just below the lobe makes me shiver and my giggles subside. Finally, the door flashes green and I push it open. Jake barrels in and stops at the foot of the bed, he practically rips the belt off. Tearing open the jacket, he frantically pushes the white, synthetic stuffing away from his skin and I watch in fascinated amusement as I click the door closed and lean back on it.
Soon, he’s stood there in his heavy boots, red trousers cuffed in white fur now sitting low enough on his hips that the waistband of his black Calvin Klein’s is showing, an oversized Santa jacket open wide, and a Santa hat. His chest is heaving from his desperation to remove the offending stuffing and the moonlight being the only light in the room shines on his slightly sweaty skin. His torso is slightly pink from where it has been irritated, and fuck me if that doesn’t make him hotter. For the love of Christmas, he looks good.Do I have a Santa kink now?
I swallow hard as my mouth floods and I dart my tongue out to wet my lips, my eyes locking with his.Yep, not a Santa kink, definitely just a Jake kink.Our easy joking from mere seconds ago fizzles and dies, making way for something more. Something darker. Jake’s brow seems heavier as he looks at me, his eyes blatantly roving over me from my face to my toes, and I’m acutely aware of my ridiculous get up. Although it’s not seeming so ridiculous now. I clutch the hem of my little green dress and hitch it ever so slightly up my thigh, just enough to show where my candy cane stockings are attached to the cherry-red suspenders. What am I doing? Why would I set myself up for such a disappointment? It’s because I want to get a reaction from him. To know once and for all if it would be interest or disgust. My question is answered immediately when his eyes flash white hot. Lust.
Time stands still as we stare at each other. Neither of us know what to do. Should he head to the bathroom and change, leaving this tension to ease away? Should I stop staring at his bare chest like I want to lick it?Who knows?As it turns out, we do neither of those things. Instead, I choose to lean into the moment, pressing my shoulders into the door and lifting my hips slightly, continuing to ease my skirt up my legs until my red, lace panties are on show. My heart is thundering in my chest, my nerves almost making me stop and cover myself again, but Jake swallows and his fingers twitch by his thigh like he wants to touch me. I don’t really know where to go from here. If I were more confident, I’d slip my hands into my underwear and rub myself while he watches. But I’m nowhere near that bold. This isn’t a carefully posed photograph that I can re-take over and over until I’m happy with it before it’s shown to an audience. This is happening for real, and I can’t guarantee I’ll look good; I can’t even see myself. Doubt is starting to creep in and I’m just about to lower my dress when Jake interrupts the fog of uncertainty.
“Come here.” Low and commanding, his voice drapes me in a momentary calm. Pushing off from the door, I walk over to him in slow, slightly shaky strides. When I’m stood in front of him, he places one hand on my waist and I can’t help the slight flinch. I don’t like people feeling the soft rolls of my body but when I don’t see any reaction other than that same burning desire in his eyes, I relax into him. He steps forward, closing what little gap there is between us until I have to arch my neck to look up at him. “What are you doing, little elf?”
Oh God, do I have to say it?“What do you mean?”
The growl that leaves his throat is feral and it hits me right between the legs. “Don’t play dumb, Nel. What are you trying to start here?” His face dips, just enough that I can feel his breath wisping across my lips with each word. My breasts are pressed to his ribs, the steady movement of his heavy breaths rubs my nipples through the fabric of my dress.
“I-I’m not sure.”
His other hand slowly comes up to gently cup my jaw and I’m aware of my breath coming out heavy. It must be hitting his lips with how closely he is hovering over me. “Tell me what you want, Nel. If you don’t tell me, I can’t give it to you.”
I want you to fuck me, suck on my nipples and squeeze my arse.Yeah, I can’t say that.Saying that out loud gives him the chance to laugh in my face and call me a silly kid. “I want…”
His eyes widen in anticipation, his tongue slowly tracing his bottom lip and I inch forward until there is barely a hair’s breadth between us.
“I want…” I try again. But I can’t say exactly what I want. Instead, I give him a slow and practiced seductive smile. “I want you to keep the hat on.”
His eyes dart right to where the white fluffy pom-pom is dangling by his cheek, and he tosses his head back and laughs. My smile stretches until my cheeks ache, his laugh is so deep and throaty, the sound reverberates through me from where my chest rubs against his. “Okay, Forrest. I’ll keep the hat on if you tell me what I’ll be doing while wearing it.”
“You’re really going to make me say it?” I grumble.
