Page 47 of Dragged Home for Christmas

“In fact, there areallkinds of things you’d like me to do to you, aren’t there?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Kris waved his cigar. “You don’t have to answer that, by the way. Because you don’t need to.” He cocked his head to one side, and Jim couldn’t look away, staring at Kris’s beard, the mat of hair covering his broad chest, the nipples poking against the fabric of his tee. “The idea of the workshops… that wasn’t why you came to see me a few weeks ago, was it? That was just an excuse. Wasn’t it?”

It felt as though those green eyes were boring their way into Jim’s chest.

He swallowed. “Yes,” he whispered.

“How long have you known you were into kink?”

“A long time.” He squared his shoulders. “Long enough to know this is what I want.”

Kris tilted his head again. “That ex of yours, the one who pissed off to Hollywood… Cal? He was into kink too, wasn’t he?”

“Can we not talk about him, please?”

“I’m just reminding myself that none of this is new to you, is it?” Kris smiled. “And now we’ve gottenthatout of the way, how about we get better acquainted?” He placed the butt of his cigar in the ashtray next to him, and rose. He walked slowly to where Jim sat, stopping in front of him, feet apart, his thumbs tucked into his waistband.

Oh dear Lord.Christmas had come early.I just hope I don’t.

“Before we go any further, let’s be clear on a few things. If you want me to stop, that’s Red. You got that?”

“Yes.” Kris arched his eyebrows, and Jim said quickly, “Yes, Sir.”

Kris smiled. “Good boy. Anything I need to know about?”

“No—Sir.” Jim’s heartbeat quickened.

He beamed. “Then we’re good to go.” His eyes gleamed. “On your knees— boy.”

Jim had never moved so fast, and a zipper sliding down had never sounded so good.

Mike sat at the kitchen table, crunching the numbers.

They didn’t add up.

He let out a sigh and put his head in his hands. “Maybe I should just give up now.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Maybe I should call it a night too.”

Sam pulled out a chair and sat. “That doesn’t sound like you. What’s up?” He peered at the sheets spread out in front of Mike. “The bookings for the brunch next week look healthy. We can write a shopping list for the weekend.”

“Yeah,thatpart’s coming together.” Mike tapped one sheet with his finger. “Unfortunately, this one isn’t. We still don’t have the money for the renovations.”

“That company in Maine… they said they won’t sell the stuff to anyone else. It’s ours as soon as—”

“As soon as we can pay for it all. Yeah, I know. But we’re not even halfway there yet.Andwe have to take into account how much we’ll need to pay out for a plumber to install all of it.” He sighed once more. “I had this great idea of having the hotel ready for business by Thanksgiving, and I see now it was way too ambitious.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, thatwasa tad ambitious. But look at what we’ve achieved. We’ve had three club nights. Three art classes. The first BDSM/leather workshop. Two piano recitals. And you’ve only had the placethree weeks, for God’s sake. That’shuge, Mike. And it all adds up.”

Mike smiled. “That’s what I like about you, Sam. You always look on the bright side.” He laughed. “Thank God Anthony isn’t here. He’d burst into that song from the end ofThe Life of Brian.” He frowned. “Whereiseveryone, by the way?”

“Ant went to the Crown & Anchor. Phil’s playing tonight.” He bit his lip. “That girl is smitten, I tell you. Smitten. Elliott got a dinner invite from Stephan.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I think that’s a modern version ofCome up and see my etchings, but I could be wrong. And Jim is…” He chuckled again. “Let’s just say he’s probably a little tied up right now, and leave it at that. Again, Icouldhave it all wrong, but somehow I don’t think so. Oh, andAshley is out on a date with Officer Murphy.” He gave an eye roll. “Yeah. Didn’t seethatone coming.” His lips twitched. “So I took advantage of having the hot water all to myself and had a long shower. It was bliss.”

Mike sniffed. “NowI know why I can smell citrus. It’s your body wash. It smells really good.”

Nearly as good as Sam did first thing every morning when he came down to breakfast, hair ruffled, the scent of warm sheets still clinging to him.

A scent that never failed to fill Mike’s head with thoughts that weredefinitelydirty.

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