Page 42 of Santa's Baby

No. I already feel like my heart’s been cracked open, thanks for asking.

I’m terrified of losing something I never even had in the first place. It’s only been ten fucking hours and I’m a pathetic mess.

“I’ll be fine,” I say, because that’s no lie. I will be fine, once I’m out of here and back onto familiar turf.

I throw on my hoodie and it’s a relief to be hidden. Covered and safe.

“Why are you racing?” he asks. “Don’t you want to shower before you go? You’re quite a mess.”

More than you’ll ever know.

I laugh. “Nah, I’ll shower at home, thanks,” is all I can say.

He’s staring at me as I get my boots. His eyes are burning me as I tighten the laces.

“Anyway, why areyouracing?” I ask him. “You’re the one who called time out.”

“I’m not calling time out. I adhered to the end of the proposal.”

FUCK THE FUCKING PROPOSAL!

I want to scream it in his face, even though it’s ridiculous. I’ve been doing proposals for four years, and I’ve had fantasies and infatuations, and morning after syndrome to the max, but I’ve never felt like this before. It’s so fucking stupid, it’s embarrassing.

“You’re really ok with this?” he pushes, and I could groan at his round after round of bastard questions, but I take a breath and flash another smile.

“Yeah, of course I am. It’s only a proposal,” I laugh. “We’re cool.”

He nods, smiling back at me.

“Excellent.”

“Excellent?”

I’m so busted up that I can’t make sense of things – both inside and out. I’ll need a long, hot bath and a bottle of vodka when I get home, never mind a bastard shower.

“Yes, excellent,” he says. “That’s the reassurance we both need.”

I pull a face. “I don’t get it. What reassurance?”

His hands are tender as he takes mine.

“The reassurance that we can both handle a proposal without falling into the abyss of insanity.”

Ah, ok. The penny drops. I get it now.

He wanted to know if I could stop. If he could stop. Ifwecould stop, with no crazy repercussions.

Thank fuck I didn’t blurt out a load of emotional crap that would have busted my fat ass.

That knowledge makes it a lot easier for Creamgirl to take back the reins. I shrug as though it’s nothing and give his strong hands a squeeze before letting go.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that, Santa. We had a good gig, and now it’s over.”

He looks me up and down. “Unfortunately so. Until next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time, then?”

A zap of horny delight shoots up my spine at the thought. And now I’m grinning like a love-struck twat.