Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“Am I examining you?”
“Do the jingle.” I demand, then point at him. “As long as your dad doesn’t see. I give full consent for all the jingle magic to take place in the shower.”
He leans in and snaps his hand next to my ear, the smell of sugar fills the air. I lick my lips and taste sugar cookies. “Neat trick.”
“I have more.”
Finally, I look down. I’ve already seen, had, felt, lived, enjoyed and screamed in pleasure because of that exceptional body of his—but this feels even more intimate.
And knowing it’s just us—and his magic. I like it.
“Alright, then,” I whisper before my eyes lazily sweep over the length of him—the same way he’s done with me.
“Let’s make some magic.”
“Thought you’d never stop talking.” He crushes his mouth against mine and I’m lost in the bliss of it all over again. The way his smooth hands run down my back stripping me of my clothes all in one swift movement.
Steam curls around us, thick and sweet like sugar in the air. Stetson’s fingers lace through mine as he pulls me under the spray, and the heat hits my skin like a shock before melting into something heady and soft. The water cascades down rock walls that glisten like crystal, the sound echoing into a hidden cave beyond—an entire world tucked behind the shower.
“Wow,” I breathe, eyes wide. “You really do have surprises in every room, don’t you? Even the bathroom?”
He grins, droplets running down his temple. “The place is old,” he says, as if that explains the small underground paradise carved into stone.
Before I can answer, he scoops me up with an infuriating mix of ease and mischief, water splashing as he carries me deeper and sets me into one of the steaming pools.
“More magic,” I murmur, bracing against the rock, dizzy from heat and from him.
“So much more than I can show you in a lifetime,” he says quietly.
The words hang there, suspended between the hiss of steam and the soft chime that always seems to follow his touch—the faint jingle of something ancient and enchanted. I want to bottle that sound, that promise, and never let it go.
I reach for him, fingers trailing over his arm, feeling power hum beneath his skin. Everything about him feels impossible—this Santa’s heir with a crooked grin and hands that could charm the stars themselves. My laugh slips out before I can stop it. “Please tell me the magic sound isn’t coming from actual bells.”
He leans in, lips curving against my ear. “Trade secret.”
The air crackles between us, warmth and laughter tangling into something that feels a little dangerous, a little divine.
He presses his forehead to mine.
“Do we have time for this?” I whisper.
His smile softens. “For you? I’ll make time. Stop time, if I have to.”
I grab onto him, slippery warm skin, steam billows around us. I'm in a Santa filled fever dream with the most unlikely hero, the most unlikely person and yet I can't deny what makes sense what drives me insane with each taste of him I wonder if that’s what the real addiction is Stetson, not his magic, but the draw he has on me and the way I feel not only safe in his arms but like I’m his everything Like Santa's heir has been waiting his whole life for a present, please God let me be it. Wrap me up in a bow, untie me with your teeth, look your fill. My eyes close as my body screams with pleasure as his mouth presses small kisses down my neck.
And just like that, the world outside the water disappears—bells, stars, and every other kind of magic caught somewhere between his heartbeat and mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Claus-eum is not at all what I expected.
My body is so sated that I could sleep for a week but I’m too curious not to go. So, I put on the gorgeous outfit Stetson has waiting for me in the bedroom, a pair of loose-fitting black pants and a tighter black sweater with a camel colored jacket and slip on black slippers. Everything feels as expensive as it looks.
I thought we were going to walk right into another place in the sweet, old village where we’d be greeted by some of Santa’s Elves and be given a tour around a fifteenth century looking museum.
This place is not at all what I expect.
Stetson takes me on the sleigh to some obscure area in the valley, right up to a sheet of rock against the mountain. I stare in awe, mesmerized for a minute by the sheer beauty, and then something strange happens—
I hear child’s laughter…the sound is faint against the wind and then it’s like a thousand voices at once.
Dear Santa… can I please get that train set…
Santa, please let my parents stay together…