Mr. Santa Page 3

  “I know,” I shouted back, glaring through my tears. “Trust me, I know.”

  “Are you sure?” He looked desperate.

  “Trust me. You’re the only man I’ve ever been sure about.”

  He gawked at me, and then he does something so incredibly sexy I almost combust. He skirted his eyes away, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Stop,” he ordered. “Don’t say shit like that.”

  “Shit like what? The truth?” My mouth and lust teamed up to systematically destroy my secret in no time. Thirteen years of harboring one. One kiss later it was over. “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head and continued to glare. “Does Winter know?”

  “No! No one knows. Only me.”

  “Are you sure?” he repeated, brows knitted. “Are you positive? You’re a kid. Your parents abandoned you. It makes sense for you to apply that absence onto Autumn and I.”

  “Really? I never wanted to kiss your wife,” I bit, making him flinch. “Please don’t try to manipulate my feelings. They’ve been mine for years. I know them better than anyone else.” I pushed to my feet, stomping past him for the fire. “Don’t bring my parents up again. They have nothing to do with my present.”

  “I’m having a really hard time wrapping my head around this.” He was suddenly looming over me.

  “Really?” I looked at him, not hiding a single thing. “You want me to show you how much I want you again, Mr. Santa? Make your cock hard one more time?” I turned away when he hissed in surprise, his mouth falling open. “Do not undermine my feelings.”

  “That wasn’t my fault. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone. I… couldn’t control it, or something. I don’t know. I’m sorry,” he begged, sinking down to my level. “I shouldn’t have let myself go there. I’ve just…” He stopped, sighing into the fire.

  “You’ve just what?”

  “Been so damn alone.” He laughed once, painfully. “I have this feeling that I won’t come back this time. The first two tours, I had Winter and Autumn. I had my family. I don’t have anyone to come home to this time.” He met my eyes, doing that weird thing where he didn’t hide what he felt. “You can’t be over there by yourself. It’s not a good feeling.”

  My body stilled. Fierce frightening pain settled in my bones. I was on him in seconds, on my knees, grasping his face desperately. “You’ll come home because you have a family that loves you. And you may not want to hear this, but I love you too. I love you, Micha. You will come home, do you hear me?” I pour my order into his eyes.

  Come home to me.

  He stared into my eyes for a long time, seeing everything I’ve ever hidden from him. “I heard you,” he whispered finally. “Really, Noelle? Are you insane?” His hands gripped my waist suddenly, bringing me closer to him. “You love me? Me?”

  “Why is that so hard for you to believe?” I released him and freed myself from his grasp.

  He snorted. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I’ve known you since you were a teenager. Autumn did most of the girly shit, but I took you to school on your first day. I picked you up that one time you puked all over yourself freshman year. I gave your first boyfriend a talk.” He was glaring again.

  “You did?” I recalled Franko Gillion. “Is that why he broke up with me that night?” I smacked his shoulder. “I actually kind of liked him. He was supposed to prove to me that you were only a crush. Maybe this is your fault.”

  He rolled his eyes, squirming with his mouth turned down. “How can you have feelings for me? I’m as much your father as I am Winter’s.”

  I shook my head. “My father left me alone in a house he hadn’t paid the mortgage on in four months. He left me with nothing. I don’t have a father anymore. You mean far more to me than he ever could.”

  He swallowed hard. “Noelle.”

  “It’s okay,” I assured him, patting his jean clad knee. “I’ve had years to accept how I felt. You don’t have to bother. I’ve already done it. I’ll, um, control myself—” Yeah right “—and you can pretend I didn’t just attack your face.” I closed my eyes in mortification.

  “Not likely,” he grumbled. “I need a shower. Help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen.” He left me by the fire with my want.

  The moment he was gone I had a full-blown panic attack. He knew. I knew. I’d kissed him, and he pushed me away. He was leaving, for another tour of active duty. He was falling apart, in so much pain he’d fled to nowhere just to feel it. I didn’t want to lose him, not to my feelings or to combat. I didn’t want to lose the only man I’d ever loved.

  Peeling myself from the floor, I went to the kitchen. The cupboards were pitifully filled. There was a press on the counter and a kettle on the stove. I brewed a cup, holding my hands near the glass French press to keep them from succumbing to the ice cold. It was everywhere. I couldn’t get warm.

  Micha came out just as I poured powdered creamer into my coffee. He was wearing a chunky cream sweater and black sweats. His hair was damp and his beard glistened, clean and thick. When he walked past me, the smell of his soap had me squeezing my thighs together. I needed a shower too. I’d been excited one too many times. I’d have to peel my panties off with a crowbar at this rate.

  “Is there any chance I can make a run for my things?”

  “No.”

  “But I need them.”

  He shrugged, grabbing a mug down and pouring coffee into it. “We’re trapped in here.” He didn’t sound happy about it.

  And it kind of hurt my feelings. What did I expect? He’d let me hump his leg now that he knew I wanted to hump everything else? “What do I do for clothes?”

  “Wear mine. I think Winter was here for the summer. There’s clothes in the main bedroom in the dresser.”

  I frowned. “Winter and I stayed on campus this summer. She was too distraught over the divorce to come home, let alone party.”

  “Oh.” He stared closely at his coffee, his expression souring. And then his eyes skirted to mine before he looked away, wiping his face clean. “Don’t wear those clothes then. Wear mine.”

  “Who was here this summer if it wasn’t Winter and me?”

  “Thanks for the coffee.” He left me alone in the kitchen.

  What was his deal? I followed after him. He set a new log in the fire, staring at it intensely. I approached him carefully, sensing something dark in him. It made his eyes crack with the fire. I touched his elbow, waiting for him to look at me. “Who was here this summer?”

  “Have you ever been in love with anyone else?”

  His question threw me, but I wasn’t a moron. That’s what he wanted. “No. Only you. Who was it, Micha?”

  “How can you love someone you never…” He shook his head. “Touched? Kissed? Fucked? Love comes from those things.”

  “No, it doesn’t. It comes from right here.” I touched his heart. “Who was it?”

  “Maybe we should try it.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve touched. We kissed. If we try fucking, maybe you’ll realize how ridiculous you are being in love with a man who’d ruin your life the same way he ruined his family’s.” He stomped away, a door down the hall slamming a few moments later.

  I swallowed my hurt. He’d never hurt my feelings before. I usually did my best to avoid him, and if I had to, I concentrated more on not showing my emotions, than him. I didn’t like how overwhelmingly angry and embarrassed he’d made me feel. Heat flashed over me at the same time my eyes burned.

  I set my coffee on the counter and then I marched down the hall. The only door that was closed was the room beside the one I’d chosen, the larger room with the en suite. I busted into the room, a string of insults on the tip of my tongue.

  But he wasn’t there.

  I heard movement in the bathroom. He was hunched over the sink when I came in. His hands were braced on the counter. His breaths were spewing out of him like steam. When he noticed me, he turned, giving me a perfect shot to
his face. I marched forward and slapped him.

  “You will never speak to me that way again, do you hear me?” I pointed threateningly at him. “Do you hear me, Micha?” I shoved at his chest. “Answer me!”

  He rubbed his jaw, eyes so incredibly angry they almost made me shrink away. I loved this man. There was no way I was going to allow him to disrespect me like so many others. He was above them, beyond them, he was the reason my heart beat.

  “If you want respect, maybe you should try not slapping the shit out the man you want it from.” He heaved under his angry breaths. “Get out of my way.” He shoved past me.

  I stared down at my hand in amazement, catching a glimpse of my caramel brown hair whipping in the mirror as I turned to follow. He sat on the end of his bed, glaring at the ground.

  “Apologize.”

  He seethed up at me. “Who do you think I am? Some little pussy you can boss around? I’m not. I don’t submit, Noelle. If you really loved me you’d know that.” He left me in his room with my jaw on the ground.

  Mr. Santa was pissing me off.

  My hand stung, my heart too. If you really loved me? What kind of shit was that?

  Rather than deal with him a moment longer, I marched into the main bedroom and searched through the clothes in the dresser. They weren’t Winter’s, that was for sure. She’d never wear flared jeans. In fact, all the clothes were strangely familiar. I tried to remember who wore tunic blouses and bras with no wire. When it hit me, I gasped. “Mrs. Santa.”

  She’d been here this summer? Before or after they announced their divorce? Or maybe they’d been separated for longer, and waited that long to tell their daughter. Better yet, who had she been here with? There was nothing in the clothes I could wear. They were all for summer. I needed long pants and sweaters.

  Having no choice, I went to the bathroom in the hall. The lights didn’t work when I flipped them on, but the white of the snow poured in through the window in the shower, lighting it enough. I turned the water on and waited until it was scorching to get beneath it.

  I waited exactly five seconds before I gave in. Why fight it? If I didn’t let go of some of this ache, it would only grow.

  I grazed my hands over my breasts, rubbing my nipples until they hardened. I had a thing about my nipples. They were my number one spot. Give them attention, and I’d come every time. When I imagined Micha’s lips wrapped around them, I moaned, pinching my nipple just enough to make a flood of liquid drip down my thighs that had nothing to do with the shower.

  I tossed my head back and lowered my hand until I found my pussy, rubbing my wet slit. My clit pulsed, wanting attention, but if I gave it some, I’d come too soon. This had to last. I had to get rid of some of my lust before I forced Micha to make good on his suggestion.

  I toyed my slick opening before pushing my fingers inside my tightness. “Ahh,” I moaned, working my fingers in and out. “Micha. Oh, Micha.” Saying his name when I fingered myself always sent me over the edge. I pumped my fingers in deeper, faster, pretending he was pounding into my tight pussy as I played my nipple with my free hand.

  “You feel so good, Micha.” My knees weakened. I braced one leg on the shower, giving myself more room to play. I increased the speed of my hand, working my nipples and pussy to the image of my best friend’s father.

  It was the best image of my life.

  Unable to stand another second, I sat on the edge of the shower, looking down at my pussy, watching my fingers delve deeply into my tightness. I loved watching, using my imagination—it was the only way I could come when Micha was in my thoughts.

  I popped my fingers into my mouth to savor my taste before easing them back in.

  Heat pooled in my belly, my muscles clenched, and I moved to massage my clit, working the hard nub into an amazing orgasm. The entire time I moaned his name. “Micha, oh, Micha.”

  When my orgasm settled, I kept going, rubbing my clit slowly as my head clouded with lust. I needed another orgasm. If I didn’t, I’d go find him right now and sink to my knees, taking his hard cock into my mouth.

  I’d always wanted to know what he tasted like. How good his hot sticky load would feel sliding down my throat. My clit pulsed, loving the attention. I wanted his cock in my mouth, in my pussy, claiming what was his.

  My second orgasm left me on my knees on the shower floor. I stayed that way for ages, letting the hot water pound into my loose muscles.

  When I got out, I wrapped my body in one of the towels in the cubby, and washed my panties and bra in the sink. I hung them up and then put my skinny jeans back on sans panties, and my long-sleeved white shirt sans bra. I donned my socks and then dried my hair with the blow dryer I found under the sink, leaving it flowing.

  I couldn’t stand to meet my eyes in the mirror, focusing instead on the snow falling outside. When I emerged from the bathroom with my sweater thrown over my arm, I listened carefully.

  The fire crackled in the living room. Micha was in there. I’d just masturbated to him. He could have heard me. There wasn’t much distance between the living room and the bathroom. What if he heard me coming as I moaned is name?

  I closed my eyes and instead of sobbing in horror, I smiled at the possibility. I didn’t mind if he heard. In fact, I’d probably masturbate tonight too, in my bed, to his image, the name of the man I loved on the tip of my tongue.

  “If you really loved me you’d know that.”

  Well, so would he.

  Chapter Four

  Noelle

  I headed for the back of the cabin.

  There was a sun room on the back porch. I put my sweater back on and then pushed the door open, finding the storm roaring. The ice of the air hit my lungs, and my face chilled painfully.

  I settled on the weathered sofa, hugging my knees as I watched the snow inch as high as the glass encasing that protected the porch from the elements. If it weren’t so cold, I’d sleep out here. Under the stars, with the woods as my backdrop.

  “The next time you masturbate to me, you mind keeping it down? I’ve never heard anyone moan someone else’s name so much. Less is more, honey.”

  I smiled at the snow, at the rush of heat in my body, at the fire in my blood I unleashed the second I kissed him. “I’ll try. But your name is the best part of it.”

  He moved onto the back porch and settled down me, gaze on the winter storm. For a long time, we didn’t speak. We didn’t have to. I’d said what I had to say, shown him how I felt, and now he knew he’d asked for it the moment he threw my love in my face.

  “You’re my daughters best friend,” he finally said, his tone thick with a million different emotions. Confusion, disgust, and maybe even a little bit of longing were the easiest to pick out, or maybe I just wanted the last one.

  “It’s not something I haven’t thought of. A million times.”

  “And you’d still act on it?” I could feel him looking at me.

  From the corner of my gaze, I could see him doing so. I kept my sights on the snow. “Yes,” I whispered, closing my eyes in shame.

  “Do you have any idea what this would do to her? She’s fragile,” he needlessly reminded me. “She’s always been such a sweet girl.” There was a sad smile in his voice. “She’s 21 and is barely surviving her parents divorcing. Imagine how badly she’d take what happened in there, let alone found out what I wanted to do to you while you were fingering that sweet young pussy to my name.”

  It was a good thing I wasn’t wearing any panties. As it was, my jeans were now ruined. My heart was pounding so loudly I could feel it in my lips, and my eyes couldn’t take it anymore. I looked at him. “Micha.”

  His handsome face wasn’t smiling. It was stone, hard tempting stone. His coal-colored eyes glimmered in the light of the snow. His uncombed hair and thick dark beard. I bet it’d feel amazing on my stomach as his lips suckled at my nipple.

  “What? You’re allowed to get off thanks to me and I’m not?”

  Oh, he was messing wit
h me. Torturing me. Driving me completely crazy. Well, I could keep up better than him. After all, I’d known about this nonexistent relationship long before he had. “Get off. Right here. I’ll watch. You like an audience, Mr. Santa?”

  Humor ignited in his dark eyes. “Not my fantasy.”

  “What is?”

  “I’ve never really had one.” Sadness suddenly snuffed out the sexy little fight we’d been sparring. “I haven’t been turned on in years.”

  “Really?” I gawked at him. “Why not?”

  He looked away. “I spend all day trying not to remember the shit I’ve done to survive. Sex doesn’t come into that equation.”

  I gave up the fight too. Instead, I slid closer to him, grabbing hold of his arm. “I’m sorry. I knew you were different after you came home, but I didn’t know the hardest parts. Winter doesn’t know.” I shrugged, because if Winter didn’t know something, neither did I. Except Micha. That was a secret that was all mine. I found his hand and interlocked our fingers, holding him tightly. “I’ve always wanted to comfort you.”

  He exhaled. “You’re the only one.”

  I recalled the clothes in the main bedroom. “How long were you and Autumn separated before you told Winter?”

  His hard swallow broke my heart. “I don’t blame her for cheating. I wasn’t there for her. For years, I wasn’t there. I checked out. I gave up. I didn’t want to talk, or touch, or make love. I just wanted to forget.” He looked at me, his eyes shimmering with his pain. “She told me about the affair a week before she asked for a divorce.”

  I’m flabbergasted. Autumn always made it sound like he ended the relationship. And in many ways, he had. Being emotionally unavailable would drive anyone away. But it wasn’t his fault. He fought for his country, he sacrificed his mental calm. He deserved a wide berth, the support. That Autumn hadn’t given it to him didn’t sit well. Worse, was that he knew she would stray.

  “Winter’s going to flip her shit.” I held on to his hand tighter.