Filthy Scrooge

“What happened to you?” she whispered.

I tucked my thumbs into the belt loops of my jeans. “Not relevant.”

“It’s very relevant. Surely there’s some way for us to come to a compromise.”

“You don’t have anything to offer.”

“Nothing?”

The innocent hope in her expression didn’t help the precarious state of my libido. I wanted to bend her over my brother’s desk. But exceptional pussy wasn’t enough to make me face all that laughter and light. My cock’s reaction to her certainly seemed to state otherwise, but I was not ruled by my dick.

Maybe if I lost myself in her sweet body for a few days I’d even out enough to get through the holiday. But a few hours wouldn’t suffice.

Not if I had to put on that damn Santa suit.

“Not sure you’re prepared to put that sort of chip on the table, Miss Kane.” My voice was husky and low to my own ears. The flush in her cheeks made my cock throb.

I watched the realization hit her.

She stumbled back a step.

I caught her before she tripped on the edge of the rug. Her sweater was soft over her narrow back. She gripped the front of my shirt.

“Just what would you do to get me to play Santa, Miss Kane?”

4

Kay

Was a jaw actually able to become unhinged and fall onto the floor?

I was pretty sure mine had.

He couldn’t be asking me to trade sexual favors for him to wear a Santa suit. He was the head of a multi-million-dollar company. Perhaps billions. I wasn’t really up on my zeros in the merchandise side of the world. Regardless of that sticky fact, I couldn’t have heard him right.

His face went from nearly playful to stone cold. “I rescind the offer.”

“No, wait.” I tugged on the cowl neck of my sweater. I could walk away. My principles and my limping bank account could go home right now.

Or I could make a deal. Assuming I could even go through with it if I did.

I was deathly afraid to ask if he meant what I thought, but I had twenty employees who relied on me. Thankfully, the temporary workers I’d hired were already paid.

“What are the terms?”

A flicker of surprise flared in his eyes before his face blanked again. “You.”

“Well, I’m not for sale.”

His lips slid into a sly smile. “The terms are for time with you. No running off. My cabin for two days.”

I blinked. “Two days?”

He nodded. “Unless you have an ailing parent, or a husband? But I’m assuming neither applies since you were sliding your very fine self all around me last night.”

I swallowed. A cabin.

Alone.