Step-Santa - A Stepbrother Forbidden Romance - Page 8

“I didn’t realize there would be so many kids at this thing,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge.

“You’re really kind of awesome for agreeing to do this,” Winter says, stepping closer.

“I have to say, you look hot in that outfit.” I wonder what she’d do if I ripped the fucking thing off.

Her cheeks turn redder than Rudolph’s nose. “I feel like a clown out there.”

I move closer, reaching my hand out to touch her face. “You absolutely don’t look like a clown.” My heart slams in my ribcage. She’s so fucking pretty.

Her green eyes connect with mine. “Really?”

I breathe her in, loving the magical peppermint smell. “Really,” I whisper.

A magnetic pull drags me toward her, and I’m not really sure what’s going on. She’s all I can see. She’s all I want.

I lean in, capturing her mouth with mine, tracing my tongue along the seam of her lips so she’ll open up.

She does.

I pull her closer, deepening the kiss and she moans for me. She tastes so good, and I keep kissing her, no longer caring about the ramifications of this kiss. No longer wondering about what this means for our family dynamic. Because having her in my arms feels right. And nothing I’ve done before has ever felt this way.

Five

WINTER

I can’t believe I’m kissing my stepbrother. Is this even allowed? Am I going to hell?

Northy Gumdroppings. Do I care?

He deepens the kiss, his hand tracing dangerously low to the hem of my skirt. I no longer care if this is wrong.

All I care about is having this man’s hands all over me. His touch is electric, zapping parts inside me l didn’t know existed. I’ve felt nothing like this before.

Is this all moving too fast?

Actually, it’s not fast enough.

Because the kiss-drunk part of me wonders how quickly he can get us back to our cabin and remove our clothes.

This isn’t like me.

I don’t make out with men dressed as Santa in hidden rooms. I definitely don’t make out with men who are also my stepbrother.

This is bad.

“This feels so right,” Kane groans out.

“Yes, so bad. I mean, right.”

He trails lingering kisses down my neck, over the column of my throat, and finishes by sucking along my collarbone. My fingers plunge into his dark hair, and I tug his head closer, wanting another soul-searing kiss.

There’s a knock on the door, and we break apart, panting.

“Kane, Winter, are you in here?” my mother’s voice says.

We freeze.

Kane repositions himself in his pants, and I love the fact I gave that massive hard on to him.

I straighten my hair as I walk over to the door. With my hand on the cool knob, I take a deep breath before I open it and peek my head out. “What’s up?”

“Your lipstick is smeared,” Mother says at first glance.

I wipe my mouth. “I was drinking a soda,” I say, knowing full well a soda would never do this to my lipstick.

She brushes past me, into our clandestine Christmas corner.

“Hi,” Kane says. “Well, I guess I’ll head back out and entertain the children.” He’s gone in a flash.

Mom fingers the pearls around her neck, giving me side-eye. “Nothing just happened between the two of you, did it?”

It pains me to lie, but… “What? No. Mom, how could you even ask that?” I act shocked, and I’m possibly overacting a bit, but my heart is racing faster than when Kane kissed me.

“Winter, he’s our family now. You can’t very well be making out with your new stepbrother. Things are fragile between Randall and I.”

I perch on the arm of a wingback chair. “Fragile how?”

“Well, everything is so brand new. I don’t know how news of our children hooking up would go over with him.”

“Mom, we are not hooking up.”

“I hope not.” My mother studies me for what seems like an eternity and finally drops it. “I came to tell you Aspen is here. The ball is tonight so why don’t you two go shopping for a new dress in the resort’s boutique?” She hands me a credit card. “On me.”

I’m horrid about lying and wrap her in a hug. “Thank you, Mom. You don’t need to buy me a dress.”

“Don’t argue, Winter.”

I let it go, because I want to get out of here before she can ask more questions about Kane and me.

Because honestly, I don’t know how much more lying I can handle.

“What about this dress?” Aspen asks, stepping out of the dressing room wearing a sapphire blue gown.

“I love it,” I say. “It really makes your eyes pop.”

Aspen runs her hands down the shimmery material. “Really? It doesn’t make me look like a blueberry?”

“No. You’re beautiful, sis. This dress only enhances it.”

She laughs away my compliment. “What about you?” she says, changing the subject. “Have you found anything?”

I stare at the ebony satin in my hands, wondering what Kane would think of me in it. “This is pretty, but it’s skimpy.”

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