Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Reaching for the roll of green sparkling wrapping paper she set it in the box of the other sparkly paper. With an arched eyebrow she gestured to her curvaceous body. “I don’t jump, Krissy Mae and I’ve never been on a horse before.” Big blue eyes widened and she hastened to add, “Trust me when I say I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”
“Horseback riding is fun.” A dreamy look crossed her face. “Oh, to go riding on Santa.”
“I would love to say you mean with, but I feel you said it exactly how you meant to say that sentence.” She scanned the large area for another two boxes. It was far easier to have wrapping paper collected by themes. Sure, the majority of the wrappers had the large spools of it, however, for the children who wanted to try their hand at wrapping, this was where they could look for the paper they wished to use.
“Oh, I did.” Krissy Mae popped up beside her, three rolls of red paper with gold writing on them in hand.
“I see two boxes over there, let me grab them.”
Along the left wall, she crouched to empty out the small bits in the bottom of the second box when a hush fell over the room. Skin prickling as it had in DC when she was at a function and the air simply changed, alerting everyone to a newcomer in the midst.
Lifting her head, she promptly lost her breath. Holy shit.
A man stood in the entrance, the light behind him giving him an almost godlike appearance. That fact didn’t change, even when he shut the door behind him, keeping out the heat.
Quite possibly because he brought it with him.
Lightheaded. That’s all it was, why she had no breath and her body tingled in a way she’d only read about. Features too harsh to be pretty but damn, what she wouldn’t give to trace them with her burning fingertips. Firm jaw, hard unforgiving lines and angles so sharp she could cut herself on them.
Happily. I would happily cut myself on them.
Fallen angel.
Full lips that begged to be tasted, sucked, nipped. His brows were as dark as the hair on his head, thick and she had another insane urge to dig in and tug.
As he nibbled and licked his way over and down her curves. Not anything she had in short supply. A harsh snort left her. A man like that, didn’t go for women like her. Definitely not with those broad shoulders covered by an impossibly tight gray shirt, showcasing the defined muscles in his torso and hard abdominal ridges.
Damn near panting, she lowered her gaze. The man had enough of the people in there fawning over him, he didn’t need to add her.
“Listen up!” Nicholas Snow, owner of Santa’s Toy Shop and her current boss gave a sharp whistle.
Not bothering to get back up on her feet, she remained crouched, working as her boss gave the introduction of Krissy Mae’s hot-enough-to-fuck Santa.
She definitely has good taste, that’s for sure.
“…name’s Ryker and I look forward to working with all of you as one of the many Santa’s here in Hallelujah Crossing.”
Fuck. That voice. Deep. More than a bit graveled and one she wouldn’t mind having issue commands in her ear as he thrust hard inside her.
Or slow and measured. Either way is fine. Great, now I’m not any better than Krissy Mae because, I too, would like to fuck Santa.
She lifted her gaze from the box she’d been emptying and found rich, intense blue eyes cutting through the crowd to land on her. Rayla stilled.
All self-preservation instincts she had, and there were quite a few having grown up in the DC political circle, flared to life. And not simply a low poof, we’re alive sort. No, this was a full-on raging wildfire.
This man was the epitome of a predator.
Joke’s on you, buddy.
She may not look like it, but she’d survived the deadliest hunting ground of them all. Political DC. If he thought his looking at her and pinning that incredible—what, sue her, she wasn’t blind—gaze on her would frighten her, he had another thing coming. She’d survived worse than facing down one dangerous man.
Even as she provided herself that mental—and much needed—peptalk, she knew it wasn’t the same. This man, who from even across the room, exuded danger was much more deadly than the sharks she was used to being around. There was something about him.
She narrowed her eyes at him. Yeah, part of the reason she left DC, she didn’t appreciate people trying to make her feel less. He lifted his left black eyebrow, which she was pretty certain had a scar through it, but didn’t look away from her.
Not until Krissy Mae, bless her heart Rayla was torn between thanking her for getting that predatory look off her and longing to punch her in the face because she took the man’s attention from her.