“You’re wet.”
I really was. It probably should have been embarrassing. But I really didn’t care about anything but him moving his fingers about an inch to the left.
“Please, Joe.”
He slipped his finger under the elastic edge and against my clit. Yes. It was like the guy had a GPS for the spot. He found it, and he pressed against it like it was what he had been created to do.
“Please tell me that someplace in this town sells condoms,” I said breathlessly.
He laughed against my ear, a deep, rumbling sound. “Yeah. We’ll be able to find condoms, Paris. Lots of them.”
“Oh, thank—”
Then he slid his finger deep. His big, thick finger. Very deep. My knees went a little weak. I gripped the counter and gave a moan that made him groan in response. He tipped my head back, settling his hand against the base of my throat in a surprisingly hot gesture, and kissed me. He stroked his tongue as his finger pumped in and out. Then he added a second finger. Then his thumb found my clit.
And that was it. I was done. Everything deep clenched hard, and I came fast, clamping on to his fingers, and gasping his name into his mouth.
“God, that’s so fucking hot,” he told me gruffly.
Yeah, it really, really was.
I slumped back against him. He held me with an arm around my ribs until I caught my breath. Then he pulled his hand out of my pants.
I braced my hands on the counter again. I felt his hands on my hips and his lips on the back of my neck. That was a very sweet gesture, especially considering what he’d just done to me. Which, while maybe not sweet, had been very nice.
Joe was definitely a nice guy.
I took a deep breath and pulled my shirt together as I turned in his arms. I smiled up at him. “I—”
Suddenly there was a thumping out in the foyer, followed by a hiss, a screech, a bark, and what sounded like nails on wood. Specifically, doggie toenails on a hardwood floor.
Louis came skidding into the kitchen. Right on his heels was Roscoe. Looking very pissed off.
“Oh my God!” I literally pushed Joe back and scooted around him. I swept Louis up just as Roscoe got to him and took a swipe. Louis whined, and I frowned down at the cat. “What the hell?”
Joe moved to pick the cat up. The thing hissed at him, but Joe looked unimpressed. “I think he misses Lydia. He wasn’t like this before.”
“Aw.” That melted my heart. “The poor thing.”
Louis seemed to sense that my sympathies had switched because he whimpered and licked my chin. “Oh, yes, you’re a poor thing too,” I assured him. “But Roscoe is lonely.” I looked at the cat again. The animal looked like he kind of wanted to scratch my eyes out. I wasn’t really a cat person. But Roscoe had lost his person. He was alone now. He had to be scared. And sad. I could be a cat person. Roscoe gave me a little hiss. “Yeah, yeah, tough guy,” I told him. “I know you don’t need anyone. But we’re here whether you like it or not. At least for a little while.”
Suddenly Joe coughed. He shifted and put the cat down. “So, um...I know this sounds bad, but I need to go.”
“Oh.” Right. He wasn’t going to stay. Hot sex was all we were doing, and we didn’t have any condoms. “Sure. Of course.”
“I’ll...uh…” He started toward the front of the house. “See you.”
I heard the front door shut and looked down at Louis, then at the plate of half-eaten spaghetti, then at the fuzzy orange backside of the cat who was now crouched at his food bowl on the other side of the island, growling even as he ate.
I blew out a breath.
Wow. So this was North Pole, Indiana.
Five
Joe
I stood outside the door to Lydia’s—well, Paris’—house and cursed myself for being an idiot. This was not where I should be, but I’d be damned if I could make myself go anywhere else.
Three days. It had been three days since I stuck my hand down Paris’ pants, fingering her to an orgasm. It had been hot as hell, fucking mind-blowing. And for a hot minute, I’d thought her offer of casual sex sounded better than chicken and waffles on Christmas morning. I’d convinced myself I was all in, and if she could handle it, so could I.
Then she’d been sweet to Lydia’s asshole cat, going all soft and nice, and I’d cut and run, fully aware that there was no way I wasn’t going to fall for her.
Fuck. Given the way I hadn’t been able to think of anything except her for days or the way I’d been acting like a tool, like someone who couldn’t string three words together, every time I ran into her, I’d say it was safe to say I was already halfway in love with her.
Paris wasn’t helping matters. She wasn’t what I’d expected. Every time I had myself convinced she was a snooty, big city girl who could never fit in in North Pole, she’d show this other side that, damn...well, it got to me.
She’d taught Jaden how to play rummy, the two of them dealing out the cards the second the kid got off the bus. Then Jaden had introduced her to his favorite treat of soft butter on saltines, and the last two days, she’d made a trayful of them just before school let out, putting them out like they were some fancy hors d'oeuvres at one of her swanky California parties.
Somehow, she’d coaxed Roscoe into her damn doggie purse yesterday and brought him to the Feed and Seed, insisting the cat was lonely and needed company.
And the more I tried to keep a friendly, if awkward distance from her, the more she came on to me. I tried to play it cool, told her I thought we’d be better off forgetting about the casual sex, but the woman had already had a taste, and not to sound too cocky, but it was obvious she’d liked it. A lot.
I ran my hand over my jaw, feeling my freshly trimmed beard, pretending like I hadn’t shaped it up for Paris. I’d gotten a haircut too. Also, not to impress the California girl.
I rolled my eyes and reached in the truck to retrieve what I’d come to deliver. Mom had caught me as I was leaving for work and handed me a pair of her winter boots, asking me to pass them along to Paris. I’d started to make an excuse, determined this would be the day I managed to stay away from Paris completely, but I couldn’t do it. For one thing, my poor mom looked like she’d gone twelve rounds with a heavyweight, her swollen jaw resembling a chipmunk with a cheek full of nuts. And for another thing...Paris needed help walking on the ice. Any friend would do the same.
Suuuure, they would.
So I told Mom I’d drop the boots off, then went back into my apartment to grab one of my old coats.
If we were outfitting her for an Indiana winter, might as well do it right.
I was looking forward to seeing her expression when she saw my gifts. I doubted the fashionista had ever worn anything that didn’t have some designer’s name attached to it.
Climbing the stairs to Lydia’s porch, I gave myself a pep talk, tried to convince myself that this was just a friendly visit, that I was just being neighborly.
All those good intentions flew out the window when Paris answered the door in the cutest little fleece pajama bottoms with bunnies on them and a red T-shirt with Givenchy emblazoned on it.
Yep. Everything she owned had a name on it...and I was guessing the privilege of wearing that tee probably cost her as much as at least three pairs of my jeans.
“Hey, Joe.” She smiled brightly when she saw me, and I fought back the desire to whisk her back to the kitchen to finish what we’d started the other night.
Her hair was pinned up on top of her head in a ponytail, and a few little wispy curls had broken free to hang loose around her face. My fingers itched to wrap that ponytail around my hand and tug on it, use my grip to pull her to me for a kiss...or maybe I’d pull her head a little lower, unzip my jeans, and...
Yeah. I was fucked.
There were three condoms in my wallet, and I’d made a vow to myself that would always be the case until the day I died. No more getting caught unprepared.
I’d been a Boy Scout, for God’s
sake. I had a reputation to uphold.
She was looking at me funny, and I realized I’d yet to say anything as I played out the kinky fantasies that had been on auto-repeat in my brain for days.
Talk, you jackass.
“Hi, Paris.”
She stepped aside, so I crossed the threshold, holding out what I’d brought. “Mom wanted me to drop off a pair of boots for you. She worries about you walking on the ice, ever since you took that tumble the other morning.”
Walking Paris to and from work had become part of my morning routine ever since Paris slipped and fell on her ass the morning after her arrival in North Pole. No matter how many times she nearly lost her balance, or I had to catch her, she refused to give up her impractical boots.
I had to hand it to her. She did a pretty good job of schooling her features as she took the boots from me. “Oh. Um. Wow. That was nice of her. Is she sure she doesn’t need them?”
I grinned. “Nope. Women around here tend to have a few pairs of winter boots. And,” I lifted my coat up, “this is from me. Figure this is gonna be a lot warmer than that zebra jacket you keep insisting on wearing.”
She was less successful in hiding her disdain for my faded black parka. “I couldn’t take that from you.” Her nose wrinkled when she said that, like the damn coat smelled of skunk.
I pointed to the coat I was wearing. “Don’t worry about it. I have other coats too.”
“Right. Well…”
“Paris,” I said. “Nobody cares what you wear in North Pole. Why don’t you give these a try today? You’ll be able to walk yourself to work, and you won’t freeze your ass off while you do it.”
Paris tilted her head toward me in that girly, flirty way that had my cock twitching. “That doesn’t sound like much incentive to switch boots. I like when you walk with me. I liked it even better when you carried me. And as for coats...” She leaned closer, and I caught a whiff of coconut from her shampoo.
Paris unzipped my coat and slipped her hands inside, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Seeing how warm this coat is compared to mine. Mmmmm. You’re right. It’s nice and toasty in here. Maybe we should just share.”
“You’re not going to wear the boots or coat, are you?”
She laughed, still clinging to me, my coat wrapped around both of us.
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in either of those things. It would be the equivalent of giving up. But I do appreciate the offer.”
Despite my best intentions to keep my hands to myself, I wrapped my arms around her and patted her ass. “How’s your ass feeling?”
For a couple days after her fall, she’d taken to sitting on a donut.
“Still sore. Maybe you could kiss it and make it better.”
Time to get us back on track. “Maybe you should get dressed for work. I have a slave driver of a boss, cracking the whip to get a bunch of repairs done to her store, so she can escape back to sunny California.”
Paris had hired me to make repairs to the Holly Jolly, in hopes of making the Feed and Seed appealing to potential buyers. I’d taken the job because what could be more sadomasochist than working for the woman you were trying to avoid.
Paris let go of me, though I could see she didn’t want to. I liked that fact more than I should.
“I just need to put some clothes on, and then I’m ready. Will you try to catch Roscoe for me? I think he really liked spending time at the store with us yesterday.”
I grimaced as she bounded upstairs to change. God only knew where the cat was hiding. I walked through the downstairs room, searching for him. As I entered the back family room, I spotted Louis, dozing on the couch, the bright morning sun warming the room. I always felt like I’d gone back in time in this room. It felt like I should be wearing a plaid leisure suit.
“Where’s the cat?” I muttered to Louis, surprised when Roscoe slowly crawled out from under the coffee table at the sound of my voice. He gave me his usual “eat shit and die” look before hopping up on the couch, just close enough to Louis’ head to terrorize the small dog.
Glancing down, I caught sight of Paris’ doggie purse.
Jesus. Is this what my life had come to? Putting a cat in a purse and carrying it to the Feed and Seed for a woman who wanted sex, but not love.
Lydia was either rolling over in her grave or—more likely—laughing her ass off at me right now.
Roscoe’s back went up, and he hissed at me as I approached him. I was glad I’d left my coat on. Might protect me from the clawing I was about to take from the ornery cat. Roscoe took two swats at me before I managed to get hold of him.
Paris came in behind me, cooing something to the pissed off cat. Roscoe didn’t look a lot happier to see her, but I noticed he didn’t try to scratch her as she took him from me and dropped him into her purse.
Today, like yesterday, the cat shocked the hell out of me by curling up in the bottom of the bag and going to sleep.
“I can’t believe he actually stays in there,” I mused.
Paris shrugged as she lifted the bag out to me, and I begrudgingly tugged the straps over my arm. We’d determined yesterday that I was better suited to carry the cat since—I glanced down at her feet and sighed—she was determined to risk her life for fashion.
She quickly pulled on that ridiculous short jacket, put Louis on his leash, and we were off to the Feed and Seed. We were a regular traveling zoo.
Paris leaned heavily on my arm, the two of us walking insanely slow on the slick surface. Twice, she slipped and twice, I steadied her. Each time, she smiled at me and tucked herself closer. I was starting to figure out she was only about half afraid of falling. The other half of her was using these daily walks as a way to torture me, her breasts rubbing against my arm, her face close enough to mine it would take very little effort on my part to dip my head lower to kiss her.
She was bound and determined to change my mind on the casual sex, and she was close to getting her way, broken heart be damned.
We’d just reached the entrance of the store when Paris’ phone beeped. She glanced at the screen, her eyes widening.
“Oh my God.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Remember I told you I had a lead on potential buyers for the store?”
I nodded. She’d dropped that information on me yesterday, and it had bugged me ever since.
“They want to come see the place,” she said. Then her face fell. “Damn. In three days.” Paris looked up in a panic. “The place isn’t ready. You still need to finish the roof, and I’d hoped to sort of,” she waved her hand around, “make the place look better.”
I’d walked into the Holly Jolly Feed and Seed pretty much every single day of my life and I’d never—until that moment—seen a damn thing wrong with it. As a kid, I thought the place was almost magical. I used to believe I was the luckiest kid alive because I actually got to live in the North Pole and the Holly Jolly fed that belief with its reindeer and bright lights and festive music and colorful Christmas displays.
Now, I was looking at it through Paris’ eyes, and the magic was fading. The window displays hadn’t been touched in years, so now they were dusty and faded. The whole building could use a paint job, and the sign had definitely seen better days.
I blew out a long sigh, visible in the cold air. “We’ll fix it up,” I said. Because I wanted to show Paris the Holly Jolly the way I’d always seen it. And because—fuck me—I wanted to make her happy. “We’ll divide up the jobs. I’ll finish the repairs to the roof, fix the sign, and repaint as much as I can. You can focus on the Christmas side, and my mom will take care of sprucing up the Feed and Seed side.”
“Did you tell her I was sell—”
I shook my head and cut her off. “No. We’ll just tell her we’re making the place nice for the holiday party. She’ll buy that.”
Paris lit up like a Christmas tree, and my heart sped up a few beats as s
he stretched up on tiptoe and kissed me. It was a sweet kiss, but I didn’t doubt for a minute, I could have turned it to something hot enough to melt the snow around us if I wanted to.
I resisted the urge.
Barely.
Paris broke the kiss but didn’t pull back, her breath warm on my cheek. “I’m still waiting for my big package, Santa,” she whispered before turning and walking into the Feed and Seed.
Fuck it. The nice list was overrated.
This year, Santa was going to be one naughty bastard.
Six
Paris
As soon as we walked into the store, I heard Joe turn the deadbolt on the front door.
“It’s kinda hard for the customers to get in with the door locked,” I said teasingly, hoping that kiss had put Joe over the edge. I was starting to think there would be no repeating the groping from the other day, let alone actual sex.
“That’s the point. Nobody’s getting in. I’m crying uncle.”
“Uncle?” Oh, yeah. Plan Paris Drives Joe Crazy was in full effect. Finally, success.
“Go back to the workroom, Paris.”
I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “Why?”
“Because there are too many windows out here. Unless,” he stepped closer to me.
I’d been flirting nonstop for days, and I’d become a master of sexual innuendos, issuing constant invitations to my bed or whatever flat surface happened to be available at the moment. Joe had rebuffed every single one.
Until now.
Halle-fucking-lujah.
I’d relived that night in Lydia’s kitchen more times than I cared to count, the memory of Joe’s fingers inside me the inspiration for some pretty intense, pretty successful orgasms.
“Unless?” I whispered when he shifted closer, wrapping his arms around my waist, tugging me next to him until I felt that big package I’d been asking for.
“Unless you’re okay with giving the good people of North Pole a holiday peep show they won’t soon forget.”
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