Page 39 of The Santas Who Stole Me

His dress pants hug his hips while walking to me, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding a small blue bag. Standing in front of me, my eyes travel up to his shirt, which fits him perfectly, just the right amount of tightness across his chest.

He doesn’t offer me a smile. No movement is made as he stares down at me. I swear the energy in the room is charged around us. How does he manage to lower the temperature standing next to me, and why do I welcome the chill surrounding us? I pull the blanket around me tighter, either from my imagination about the air around us or as a shield between us, I’m not sure. Of all of them Zeke is the most likely to know I’m going to help Agent Fisher, also the most likely to burn me if he finds out the wrong way.

“Hungry?”

I shake my head and cringe when I realize I licked my lips after glancing at his arms again. He’s surveying me with his calculating gaze, and I try to hide that desperation for him. I must do a terrible job because in a blink of an eye my lips part, and his tongue slips inside them. I try to mask my gasp. Zeke is such a walking contradiction, down to the way he kisses like he’s trying to pull out my soul and at the same time give me life. His tongue withdraws and I catch my breath. Sitting back on the coffee table in front of me, he props himself up and extends his hand with the bag to me.

“What is this?” I trace the black lettering of the jewelry store of Marge’s dreams and most any other girl in the world. The white paper is neatly arranged on top of a box I can see peeking under it.

“Early Christmas present. Open it.” He has that same look he did before we made cookies, like he isn’t sure what to do. Nervous. Zeke is nervous, and it’s the cutest thing I have ever seen. This god-like man sitting in front of me, all muscles and swagger, is nervous.

It makes my stomach do a little swoop.

I pull out the paper and set it neatly on the couch. Square black velvet sits at the bottom. When I lift the lid, a round link bracelet in shiny platinum lays on a little silk pillow. Intricate charms line the circle, and I bring it closer to look. A guitar catches my eye first, then a cookie with black diamonds as chocolate chips. Guessing from the weight of the bracelet it’s real; that and the heart tag that sits opposite the Santa hat charm. The snowman, though, is bone white with three dots as a button, a carrot nose, and diamonds around the hat.

“Do you like it? You don’t wear much jewelry and I didn’t know if that is because you don’t prefer it.”

I shoot out from the blanket and throw myself at him.

Zeke chuckles, an actual laugh that starts as a sound of relief but then turns genuine.

I want to keep it in my ear forever. “I love it. No one has ever given me anything so nice. It’s beautiful, but you spent too much.”

He shrugs under me like the cost of it was nothing.

It was the same at the decorator store, and a little guilt slinks in. I don’t have anything to contribute to our living situation. I hope they don’t get sick of me. My eyes sting as I try to keep them from tearing up. I swipe at my face, but he remains still. “I’m happy, I swear, it’s just a really sweet present.”

Zeke runs his cold fingers along the tear mark I can feel drying, then takes the bracelet carefully from my fingers, and I hold out my arm, so he can fasten it.

I pull it into my chest over my heart, which is starting to beat harder being this close to him. “It’s really pretty.”

Ice-blue eyes fix on me, and I start to squirm under his gaze.

“Mmmm.” I feel his hardness, and my hips slowly rock back and forth despite the warning my brain gives me about the last time we were this close. He doesn’t say a word, trying to give me that blank look again, but I know him now. The twitch of his eyelid is so tiny you wouldn’t see it unless you stare without blinking. The ever-so-slightly darkened pupils. I saw it when we were last on the couch all together. I tried to memorize everything about them at that moment. Zeke isn’t the only one with a watchful eye.

“Georgia, I don’t want to take from you. That isn’t the reason I gave you this.” He runs his finger on my wrist, outlining the snowman charm. He picked it because of the cookies we made. He’s my own snowman, and I’m determined to melt away his iciness.

“Then don’t. Let me take what I want from you.” My hands run across his chest, and he remains silent even as his breath hitches slightly at my touch, and I undo his first button.

He wraps a hand around my wrist, and I think he’s going to stop me, so disappointment washes through me like a cold rinse cycle, and I almost stick out my bottom lip. Instead, Zeke takes over unbuttoning his shirt. Never moving his laser focused watch. “Tell me what you want to take from me, Georgia.”

I can’t speak. His slow, methodical movements with those buttons have me hypnotized, and I can’t help but touch him. His shirt is only half unbuttoned before I slide my fingers underneath and trace the tattoo across the middle of his chest. A hollowed-out skull with a snake slinking through one socket. It fades out onto the right side of his chest, which is covered with more tattoos in all shades. The images twist into each other. From far away it may look like some type of pattern, but this close, I can see the detail in each picture.

I am dying to ask him what they mean. Did he pick them on purpose? Does each one have a meaning? His body is so perfect he could have put an image of a taco above his heart, and I’d still be just as wet. On that note, I squeeze my legs together. He sees my squeeze and continues removing his shirt, and when he reaches his pants and starts unzipping, I lean back. I never understood the appeal of male stripping, but watching Zeke, I get it now.

Please take everything off.

“Georgia, you need to tell me exactly what you want. That’s the only way we are going to do this. I won’t be the one pushing or demanding, only giving.”

Zeke needs me to spell it out for him, making sure I’m getting everything I want. He wants reassurance of consent. Damn, that is hot.

“Zeke, I want to come. Sit on the couch, and let me ride you until I do.”

He shoots up lightning fast and pushes his pants down. Dang, he’s as big as I remember in my lust-induced haze from our time together. When he moves his heavy dick slaps against his stomach, and I stare at the vein on the underside with a hunger on my face that should be embarrassing. I am going to have to be careful here. Zeke needs my words, and I can’t get caught up in silence staring at his dick.

He waits for me patiently.

I stand and throw my shirt over my head and slip my pants off, so I stand in nothing but a bra and the bracelet.