Page 75 of Santa's Girl
Snowflakes still fell, soft and slow. But there was nothing romantic about them now.
This was something else.
He told me to stay in the car.
Didn’t ask. Didn’t suggest. Told.
And weirdly? I wasn’t offended.
Because the second his boots hit the ground and the other men turned to face him… everythingchanged.
I couldn’t hear their words. The wind, the engine idle, the music from a distant bar muffled it all. But I didn’t need to hear it to understand.
Bear owned the room.
Or the asphalt. The space. The silence.
Whatever you want to call it.
The way he stood, wide-legged, kutte creased across his shoulders, hands loose at his sides butready? It was pure alpha energy. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous.
And they respected him. I saw it in how they moved. Waited. Lowered their eyes. They weren’t just talking to a man — they were reporting in.
And he?
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t defer. Didn’t puff his chest either.
He didn’tneedto.
He was all that, without saying a damn word.
Something primal kicked up inside me — sharp and hot in my belly.
This wasn’t some boardroom boss in a designer suit. This wasn’t Huntley with his pre-approved credit card and champagne flutes and choreographed sex that felt more like performance art.
This was a man.
Real. Rough. Raw.
A man who made people listen.
A man who made me feel.
And suddenly, I knew.
No more slow burns. No more overthinking.
Tonight’s the night.
I don’t care how it happens or where. I don’t care if it’s snow, sweat, or candlelight.
I want him.
All of him.
The man in leather, with a gun on his hip and my name on his lips.
The one who kisses like he owns my mouth and stares at me like he’s starving.
