Page 7 of Slaying for Santa
I forgot how tall he is. Or at least, how tall he is compared to my nearly five ten height. He’d be at least six five. Maybe six six.
“You don’t know shit about me, Bellicent.”
My brows hitch, and for a moment I’m certain I stop breathing.
He said… my real name. The name only my mother used.
I part my lips to speak, but no words form, and he doesn’t miss a beat, a smirk kicking up his lips that shouldn’t look as tempting as they do framed by the dark auburn speckled stubble dusting his jaw, chin, and upper lip.
“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”
“I don’t know, Kitty Kat… do you?” I ask quietly, and his grip loosens on my arm, but he doesn’t step away, his searing hand remaining in place.
For a long moment, he just stares at me, and usually I’m good at reading people, but right now, I can’t tell what’s going through his head.
Then, his gaze flicks to my lips, and I swear time slows, and then completely stops.
Kiss me…
Wait!
Fuck!
No!
I take a step back, wrenching my arm from his grip.
“Why did your ex-wife trash the living room?” I snap, and he sighs, his shoulders dropping in defeat as he steps away, putting what feels like worlds of space between us.
“I agreed to let her come over so Libi could give her the Christmas gift she made her.” Kit sighs, raking his hand through his hair, making some of the strands stick straight up. “Libs had been hounding me for weeks, and fuck, I thought I’d better get it over and done with so she would stop fucking bugging me about it. Then at least we could forget about her bitch of a mother and enjoy Christmas in peace.” He huffs out a breath, turning away from me to brace the bench and drop his head like he’s exhausted.
All I can see is the way his muscles coil.
Fuck me. What is wrong with me tonight?
“Took me long enough to get that cunt of a woman to show her face. I had to bribe her with twenty K just to come and see her kid for Christmas. Should’ve known she’d ask for more as soon as she stepped foot inside again.” He shakes his head before lifting it and turning back to face me. “I should’ve lied to Libs and told her Rhonda was out of the country or something.”
“So why did she go off? Was it just about the money?” I ask, and Kit’s jaw ticks, clearly still frustrated with what happened.
“Rhonda is always money driven. She snorts most of it up her fucking nose. But the other thing that riles that woman up is how different our daughter is.” Anger flares across his expression as he shakes his head. “Libi gave Rhonda the gift she made at school. She painted her a Christmas tree. The tree she really wants more than anything, thinking her mum would like it too.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I ask confused, and Kit growls.
“Rhonda didn’t fucking like it.”
I frown. “Why?”
For a long moment, Kit just stares at me like he’s trying to figure out what to do, then he sighs again, moving to the drawer and pulling out pieces of torn paper.
He starts laying them out on the counter, piecing them together like a puzzle, and my brows shoot up as a painted Christmas tree starts to form.
It’s no ordinary Christmas tree though, and my eyes meet Kit’s as he steps back after putting the last piece into place.
“She told her mother that this is the tree she wants, and that she has these cute little skeletons and skulls to hang on it.” He shrugs. “I guess this was just another thing Rhonda can’t stand about her own daughter.”
“All of that over Libi wanting a black Christmas tree? With skulls?”
Kit nods again.
