Page 58 of Christmas With The Kings
I yanked the red trousers of the suit from the floor and stepped into them.
Where the fuck was my T-shirt?
She swayed her hips deliberately as she crossed the room toward me, the picture of unrepentant mischief. “Mmh, but you like it when I’m naughty. Looking for this?”
My T-shirt dangled from her hand. Something between a laugh and a growl sounded. Christ, she was impossible. “Maybe. But you’d better remember, brat, Santa always keeps a list. And I’m in charge of checking it twice.”
Her answer was to sing a few bars of “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town,” emphasising the word coming.
“Really?”
“What? If you play your cards right and are a good boy for me…I’ll let you come. After all, it is the season of giving.”
Good boy my ass.
My laugh was low and dangerous, though amusement curled around the edges. “Word of caution, brat, this Santa doesn’t forgive the naughty ones easily.”
Her smirk faltered enough to make my blood heat—challenge and anticipation sparking in her eyes. I sauntered over and hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her face up until her lips parted. Then I released her just as quickly, giving her a sharp swat on the bum.
“Grab your brush and make-up bag. You can fix yourself proper in the car. And don’t think you’re off the hook. Santa’s feeling vengeful.”
She shivered, but her grin came back, wide and taunting. And now nothing would do but to test her resolve, because one thing was for sure…I was going to collect on this little stunt of hers.
KINSLEY
I scrambled to scoop up my hair and makeup bag, stuffing brushes and palettes into the pouch with clumsy fingers. He’d insisted I do the finishing touches in the car, and for once, I didn’t argue—because I knew I’d already tested his patience enough this morning.
By the time I hurried out of the bathroom, the room was empty. He was gone.
I paused, taking in the faint trace of his cologne lingering in the air. The toy sat snug against my clit. I fingered the ties pressing against my hips. They were a constant reminder of what we hadn’t finished.
One last look in the mirror had my lips curling. My cheeks were flushed, eyes bright, hair tumbling wild down my shoulders. I looked nothing like Mrs. Claus, and everything like a woman on the edge of trouble.
Exhilaration buzzed through me as I slipped the bag over my arm and left the room. The very thought of role-playing sent my dirty little mind spinning in a thousand and one directions, each one filthier than the last.
And the best part? He had no idea how much fun I planned on having with it. When I stepped into the living room, Ivan was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, waiting. He was checking his phone and smirking. His thumbs flew fast over the keys.
Who was he texting?
I tiptoed quietly over. I’d been working on my stealth skills, and he was pretty intent on what he was doing, so he didn’t notice. Once more, I dropped to my knees and cleared my throat.
His eyes darkened instantly. “Kinsley,” he warned, voice low and rough. “You’re treading dangerous ground. If you’re trying to sway me again—it won’t work. I’ll record it and show it to my mother as proof.”
I shook my head, a slow smile tugging at my lips. “Relax. I’m not after that…not yet.”
His brow arched, skepticism plain to see, but I was already digging through the clutter in my bag until my fingers closed around cool leather. Triumph sparked through me as I pulled out the new strap I’d picked up last week.
Black, sleek, made to hug high on my thigh—and fitted with two narrow sheaths. Both were already occupied.
I held it up, watching his expression shift, amusement giving way to something sharper. “You said I could,” I said, my voice husky with satisfaction.
He reached down, fingertips brushing over the strap, the blades glinting under the light. The air between us charged, hot and heavy.
“I did, didn’t I?”
For a moment, neither of us moved. Just his hand covering mine, the blades between us like a private language only we understood. I leaned in, cheeks flushed, and held the strap out to him like an offering.
“May I…have your permission—to strap it on your ankle, Sir?” I asked. “It really is the perfect place. If we’re attacked, I can go low while you go high. I’ve got your back. Or well ankles, in this case. This one has two slots, so if Izzy wants to join in, I’ll lend her my extra one.”
