Page 29 of 'Tis the season of Wicked Deeds

He knows all your darkly erotic fantasies.

Shit. It’s going to be a task pretending he didn’t see my list in all its shameless glory. I swear there should be an off button for these devil-tongued voices in our heads.

Standing in front of the dresser in the compact walk-in closet, I check my reflection in the mirror one final time. I don’t often get a chance to dress up back home since most of my time is spent cooking in the kitchen or delivering orders in a casual outfit.

In my free time, I would scroll Pinterest on my phone and gawk at the chic winter outfits, while wishing for a chance to wear them myself. Therefore, there was no way I was missing out on the perfect opportunity to fulfill yet another wish.

I did some online shopping and packed my suitcase with stylish clothes that would protect me against the cold weather.

Don’t want to catch a cold and ruin the whole trip.

For tonight, I picked a pair of tight black leather pants and a bright pink turtleneck sweater. I’ve left my hair open and let it fall down my back in curls. I’ve completed my outfit with black boots and a trench coat that Tina gifted me last year.

My makeup is light and simple. Just a brush of blush, some mascara, and pink lip gloss. Gazing at myself, I feel cute and low-key eager for Kingston to see me.

I wonder if he’s also changed into another outfit. He could be on the other side of the wall. The urge is so enticing to walk up there and knock on his door. It would be so deliciously easy to say yes like my starving body wants to and dive headfirst into all the filth with him.

He’s the kind of man who you know will deliver.

His confidence alone is enough to make my pussy drenched.

Man, I wish I could call Tina and talk to her right now. Only she can help me sort out these messy feelings. Yet she’s the one person I can’t tell.

I haven’t even thought about how I am going to confess about Kingston to her. We’re not ones to keep secrets from each other.

I guess I’ll cross that bridge when it comes.

Pushing all my turbulent dilemmas aside, I grab my clutch with my phone and cash inside it and a light brown bucket hat just in case it’s too chilly, and quickly rush downstairs. Locking the cabin door, I safely tuck away the keycard and walk to the lobby.

Hilda is behind the front desk and I immediately wonder if she thinks I’m a weirdo for the fiasco earlier. Or worse, knows I made out with her boss.

Since no one else is around, she immediately sees me. I’m relieved when she smiles. “Going out, Miss Twinkle?”

“Yes,” I reply, approaching her. “Will you not be going out to see the final window reveal?”

“I’ve already seen it so many times, I would rather settle in with a hot cup of coffee,” she answers with a laugh. “Plus, I have my own decorations to do at home for tomorrow. You’re going to love it, I’m sure. It’s a one-of-a-kind experience.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Are those boots comfortable? Because you’ll be walking a lot.”

“Oh yes. I chose flats. Don’t want to kill my feet on the first night.” We both chuckle, understanding the experience. I startle when a throat clears behind me. Whirling around, my breath hitches and my stomach knots into a ball of explosive lust.

Kingston steals my breath away, looking so utterly rugged and handsome.

He probably even wakes up sexy, voice throaty with messy bedhead hair.

His black tee was exchanged for a black hoodie and he’s thrown his leather jacket over it. Dark brown strands in perfect disarray and pushed back over his forehead, the sharp angles of his face steal all my focus. His lips framed by stubble are a darker pink, probably from the cold.

My own tingle remembering how soft they felt and the passionate way they kissed mine. My thoughts drift to an even dirtier imagination.

Like the feel of his mouth between my thighs, kissing and devouring another part of me.

I blink when he strokes his knuckles against my cheek, leaving tingles in its wake.

“I think I told you to wait for me at the cabin,” he teases, stepping closer until he’s towering over me.

“Hmm, really?” My tone is raspy. “I don’t remember.”

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