Mr. Santa

by Shana Vanterpool

  “Should I get my things?”

  He looked down at his bare toes, and then up at me. In his gaze, there was nothing but pain. So deep, so vast. “I have to be alone right now, honey. I appreciate your concern, I do. But I’m fine. You can stay the night, but that’s it. Winter will get over it.”

  So no on my things. I wouldn’t be staying long enough to need them. It went against everything inside of me to give him that. To leave him with his pain. But that’s what he wanted, and I’d never had a chance to give him anything at all.

  I stepped back. “How about I don’t call her for a couple days? The reception’s bad anyway. I’ll tell her that you and I had an awesome time together. We built inappropriate snowmen with disproportionate penises and I tricked you into eating yellow snow. We had a great laugh about it once you stopped crying.” I gave him a forced smile. “I’d better get going.”

  He gawked at me. “I forgot about your sense of humor. It’s, uh, always been unique.” He ran a hand through his hair, releasing it with a groan. “Stay the night. I can’t let you leave in this.” He glanced over my shoulder at the storm. “I can’t believe you made it all the way up here. You still driving that damn Prius?”

  I sniffed. “What’s wrong with my Prius?”

  When he stepped aside this time, I entered his cabin, nervous in seconds when the door closed behind me. The lights were off. Candles burned on the living room table and kitchen counter. The cabin was wide open, with four bedrooms in the back and an all wooden theme. Like Lincoln logs turned Barbie’s forest playhouse. I’d always thought Barbie enjoyed nature, what with having to suffer through my notorious adolescent haircuts.

  “Is the power out?” I guessed.

  “Been out for weeks. Generator ran out of gas.”

  “You’ve been living in the dark?”

  “It’s only dark at night,” he pointed out stiffly. “You want to take one of the spare bedrooms or sleep out here by the fire?” He walked over to it and grabbed a log, shoving it into the embers. “We can share the pullout bed, if you don’t mind. That’s where I’ve been sleeping. The bedrooms are too cold.”

  Share a bed with him in the dark away from everyone? Was he out of his ever-loving mind? My heart sank at the same time it soared. This wasn’t real. I was dreaming. Or I’d passed out in the snow and I was a huge frozen popsicle.

  Here lies Noelle. If only she’d shaved her snatch.

  When he glanced at me, my head bobbed before I could say no.

  But I should have said no.

  Still should.

  Any time now.

  I looked away from him and instead at the pullout bed. It was made with thick quilts and lots of pillows. It looked amazingly warm and comfortable.

  “You want something to drink? I’ve got peppermint tea and coffee.”

  “Tea sounds good.”

  He headed past me for the kitchen. I took my gloves off and beanie, settling down on the rug in front of the fireplace with my hands outstretched to the warmth. I tore my boots off and stretched out my feet, letting the warm amber flames seep into my cold bones.

  I could hear him in the kitchen, running water, and then the click of the gas stove as it came to life. I could feel him too. I could always feel him. Like a life force that couldn’t find his way to mine. I stared into the flames, already feeling the effects of my love for him turning into pain.

  “Here.” A mug of steaming tea appeared in front of me.

  “Thank you.” I took it carefully as he settled down beside me, his own mug in his large grasp.

  The steam of our drinks met in the middle, swirling around each other like lovers. They danced until I brought my mug to my lips, tearing them apart. The burst of warm peppermint went straight to the cold inside of me.

  Now what?

  Winter wanted me here so her father wasn’t alone. If I kept that in mind, my mission seemed clear. Stay around, figure out a way to bring up why he was alone in a cabin with a safe of guns, and then smack him around until he promised me his existence was worth so much more. Less ice, more fire. I shifted closer to the flames, feeling his eyes on me.

  I skirted my eyes to the side, catching his dark gaze. The golden flames danced in his coal-colored eyes, turning them into gleaming tempting orbs. His beard shimmered in the glow of the fire, and his lips were moist from the tea. His mouth probably tasted minty. His large hands would be undoubtedly warmed from his hot mug. The idea of his hands on my body, pressing into my flesh, sent a flood of warmth straight to my pussy, making my inner muscles clench in desire.

  When I realized I was making love to him with my eyes, I tore them free, but not before I caught the slight furrow between his brows. Shit. I had never been good at giving in to my desires. Indulging made me addictive. If I ate ice cream, I ate the entire thing. If I had a beer, the six pack was mine. If I ever got the opportunity to be with Mr. Santa, I’d do him long and hard, until I couldn’t walk, until he couldn’t exist without my touch.

  I bit my bottom lip, rolling it between my teeth to keep my emotions at bay. But it wasn’t my fault. He did this to me. Every. Single. Time. And within that lust, there were other emotions. Love and sympathy. I wanted to comfort him as much as I wanted to ride him. My head spun.

  I couldn’t tame my thoughts. So, I burned my tongue, taking a huge mouthful of the peppermint tea.

  “Ahh,” I hissed, spitting the scalding liquid out of my mouth and onto the rug. I closed my eyes and ran my tongue over the roof of my mouth, trying to staunch the numb achiness. My lust and want were at least settled.

  For now.

  It was never far away. Over the years, my lust had settled, but that was only because I’d been away at college. The constant male buffet made the love I ignored easier to live without. But every man on top of me got the Mr. Santa treatment. I’d close my eyes and pretend it was his weight on top of me, his breath in my ear, his grunts of pleasure. I’d orgasm like crazy, coming all over their dicks like a waterfall. They all thought it was because of them. They’d come back, wanting it again and again, but to me they were all Micha Santa.

  I wasn’t going to last here. Thirty minutes in and I was already on the cusp of heartbreak and a new change of panties.

  “You okay?”

  I tore my eyes open and met his. That furrow was back. I could only imagine what I looked like. Blushing, I nodded, setting my mug down. “I’m going to go stick my head in the snow. I mean my tongue.” I shook my head and bolted from the room, not letting my breath out until I was outside.

  The cold bit at my bare hands and face. I closed my eyes and tried to find a shred of control. But there was none. If I had control, I’d have gotten over my crush a long time ago. That’s what I thought it was at first. A crush. He was handsome, he was off limits—it seemed simple. It wasn’t simple anymore.

  It was pathetic.

  I grabbed a handful of ice from the railing and held it to my tongue. Ice dripped down my chin, between my breasts, cooling my singed flesh.

  I was going to do my best to make Winter pay for this. She’d never know why she was suffering, but she’d suffer nonetheless.

  When I came back in, I was calmer. And colder.

  Micha had moved to the bed, reading on his back. He glanced at me when I passed him. “All better?”

  I ignored him. No, it wasn’t better. Seriously? A beard? Was he trying to kill me?

  “I think I’ll take one of the back rooms.”

  “You sure? It’s freezing back there.”

  I ignored him once more.

  I headed for the back for the room I always picked. It had the best view, but it was smaller, and everyone else wanted the one with the en suite bathroom. I closed the door and took in the wooden theme. The two twin beds were made up with floral quilts. He was right. It was colder back here. I searched the windows for the icy breeze I felt. Freezing was better than sleeping beside him.

  I’d attack him.

  I’d give up my secret.


  And he’d shoot me down, destroy my feelings. Take a part of me that had burned since I was thirteen. In a way, how I felt about him was like a rock. I had no others. Nothing grounding me, keeping my wants in perspective. He gave me a sense that I could keep going, because behind me my feelings for him stood as hard and beautiful as his face. I needed to want something, or the nothing of my past would find me.

  Sleeping was impossible. My teeth chattered so hard I couldn’t overlook the clicking of them. I tried to ball my body, keep it as small as possible, but that only served to create less room for warmth. In the morning, I didn’t wait for the sun to rise. I crept out into the living room and sank down in front of what was left of the fire.

  “Mmm,” I groaned, wanting to stick my hands in the pit.

  “Put another log in,” came a deep sleep-filled voice behind me.

  Oh. My. Panties. His deep morning voice licked down my spine, igniting heat in my blood. It was so deep and sexy. I looked at him, finding his black hair even more mussed and his eyes puffy. Handsome filthy bastard. I could imagine how hot his body was, how good it would feel to crawl on top of him and melt into his hard muscles.

  Mr. Santa had an incredible body. He worked out like a crazy man, more so after his second tour in Iraq. I could remember pool parties, his abs trailing down to tight hairy places.

  I was doing it again.

  He was frowning again.

  I tore my eyes free and grabbed a log blindly, throwing it into the fire. Embers popped and exploded, making me jump.

  “The cabin’s made of wood, honey. Perhaps we set the next log down a little more carefully next time?”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  He grunted. “Cold back there, wasn’t it?”

  Stop talking to me. His voice had me rocking back and forth, begging for strength. You will not assault him. Winter will kill me, her mother would disown me, and my life would explode. Everything I had was because of the Santa family. It just so happened that the one thing I wanted, the only thing I wanted, was the one thing I could never have.

  I heard him get out of bed. A second later he whistled long and slow. “Come here.”

  He was standing at the front window, white exploding beyond the curtain. I got up curiously and joined his stare, finding the snow halfway up the deck. The stairs were hidden. Which meant the road out of here was covered in at least ten inches of snow. I’d never get out of here. I looked up at the sky, finding it white. Only white. And snow fell freely, in no hurry to stop.

  “Looks like you’re stuck here.”

  “For how long?” I asked in dismay. I couldn’t stay here. Twelve hours had me in a whirlwind. Days would destroy me.

  “The forecast said at least eight inches every day. They’re calling it Snowmageddon part two. It could take a week before it stops. Even longer to clear the path. They’re not sending anyone out here anytime soon.”

  “Because no one else is dumb enough to trap themselves in a cabin in the middle of winter.” I glared at the snow falling so tranquilly. There was no tranquility here. “No one except you.”

  “No one told you to come here, Noelle.” He left me to stew.

  “No one told you to come here, Noelle,” I mimicked him, making a face at my reflection. “Well, I’m here. Stuck here, thanks to your manipulative daughter. Whom was worried about you, by the way. I’m not here because I want to be!” I whirled around, screaming at his handsome face as his brows quirked in surprise. “Everyone’s worried about you. And judging by the fact that you’re all alone in the middle of the woods with no electricity, I think they have a right to be.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes full of surprise at my outburst. “I know you don’t want to be here, Noelle. You’ve done your best to avoid me since the day you came to live with us. You came here for my daughter. Thank you,” he said, and I thought I believed him. “You’ve always been a good friend to her.”

  I avoided him out of self-preservation. Not because I wanted to. “Yeah, well, someone has to be. You and your wife are doing a fine job at forcing her to choose sides.”

  He flinched at my jab. “I haven’t asked once for her to choose me. I’d rather her not choose me at all.”

  “I know, I get that. But she loves you. Pushing her away is like begging her to help. She can’t take care of her mother and you. She just wants you both to be happy. It’s hard for her, realizing that her life isn’t as flawless as she thought.” I took a step toward him, the window to my back, as snow fell soundlessly outside. “It would help if you weren’t up here all alone with a safe full of guns.”

  His lips parted, and his eyes filled with something I couldn’t place. Shame maybe, or even regret.

  “I didn’t want to leave them with Autumn. She said something.” He shook his head, his pain leaking through. “Something concerning,” he whispered, his coal eyes gleaming.

  I stepped closer. “What did she say?”

  “You can’t leave someone that doesn’t exist.” He closed his eyes in regret. “I was home grabbing some clothes and I saw my gun safe had been moved. I put two and two together. I panicked. I took the guns. Why?” His eyes shot open. “You think I’d use them on myself?”

  I blinked my tears away and shrugged. “I don’t know. Winter either. Grandma Santa too. We don’t know why you’ve pushed your entire family away. We’re scared.”

  He stepped toward me, mouth opening and closing, as if he wanted to say more than he was willing to. Finally, he sighed, releasing his breath in a painful whoosh. “Noelle,” he whispered, and every heartbreak he ever felt burned in my name. “They’re sending me away again. To Yemen for twelve months. Active duty.” Tears glimmered in his eyes.

  My heart sunk.

  Broke.

  I’d barely survived the first two tours. The torture, the fear, it gutted me. It was so hard to keep my secret from Winter then. I wanted to beg her every second for updates. Instead, my panic burned silently, like an ember long forgotten as it searched for a reason to erupt.

  “No,” I breathed, letting everything I felt out in seconds. “They can’t.”

  “They are.”

  We both stepped toward the other once more. I struggled for a second before I gave in. I wrapped him in my arms, holding him to me as tight as I could. He was a tall man, but I was a tall woman. My face pressed perfectly into the crook of his neck as his long strong arms came around me. I breathed in the smell of his skin. In my arms, he stiffened under the weight of his admission.

  “Do they know?” I asked, plunging my fingers in his hair. I pressed his head to me harder, wanting to protect him from the army, from the violence, from the war he fought that had broken him. He wasn’t the same after his time overseas. How could they send him back?

  “No.” He lifted me in the air, squeezing me so tightly I couldn’t pull in a breath. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt a woman.” His heavy breaths burned my flesh as he held me in the air, squeezing my lungs and every breath I’d ever need right out of me. “I can’t tell them I’m going back to war.”

  My heart was strangled. My brain and emotions were startled, unable to wrap themselves around what was happening. I let my desire have control. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pressing my thighs around his hard hip bones. He seemed to be falling apart. His breathing was too loud, mine too, our hearts pounded, our fear was thick—our emotions were a storm in and of themselves.

  “Do you want to go?”

  His hand pressed firmly into my thigh to keep me up and the other into my lower back, holding me effortlessly in the air. “I don’t have a choice. It’s what I signed up for. But it killed my marriage. Almost killed me. Noelle?”

  “Yes?”

  “Get down.

  I shook my head. My desire had control of me now. I pressed my lips to the hair behind his ear. He groaned, this low wanting sound.

  “What the hell’s happening?” The second he asked, I felt something shift betwee
n us. His cock hardened against me, drowning me in a hazy lovely senseless lust.

  I moved away to grasp his face. His beard tickled my palms. His eyes were glimmering and lost, confused with a layer of lust I knew had to do with the confusion. They were beautiful eyes. Alive. The pain in them gone. His lips were parted to make room for his breathing. I wanted them. Could no longer control myself. This was happening and I wanted it to. I crushed my lips to his.

  Everything I’ve ever wanted opened up before me. I lost myself completely, utterly, madly. I attacked his lips with a kiss that would never be forgotten. His taste exploded on the tip of my tongue, this warm rich beautiful taste that made me moan a moan I could feel all over.

  He tried to pull away, his lips stilling, but I was unstoppable. I grabbed a handful of his hair and plunged my tongue into his open mouth. The second his touched mine, I knew I was screwed. Forever, I’d never be the same, screwed.

  His tongue was silky and hot, caressing mine hesitantly as he attempted to say no. I could feel it in his body, the way his hands tried to urge me away. But I was lost. The wet hotness of his mouth was everything to me in that moment.

  “Noelle,” he growled, trying to free his mouth. “Stop.” He shoved me off, making me freefall to the floor.

  My ass hit the ground. So did my control. My pride. My everything I thought I’d had.

  And most of all, my secret.

  Chapter Three

  Noelle

  What did I do?

  “What the hell, Noelle!” His roar made me flinch. He wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand and glared down at me. “What were you thinking?”

  I stared up at him as my heart hammered. I kissed him. Elation burned as hot as my mortification. He’d tasted divine. “I love you.” I slapped a hand over my mouth, squeaking in shocked pain.

  “What?” He stared down at me in shock and horror.

  I risked moving my hand. “I’ve been in love with you since I was thirteen.” No! I slapped my hand back over my mouth.

  “Are you out of your mind? What the fuck, Noelle?” He started pacing, the fury in his eyes making them look dangerous. “What’s going on in your head right now?” He stopped pacing to glower. “You kiss me? I’m your best friend’s father!”