Naughty St. Nick Read Online Free PDF Page B

intense gaze lingered on her mouth for several suspended seconds. Then his head dipped. His eyelids lowered. His lips brushed lightly over hers. A whisper of a kiss. Yet, one that instantly set her ablaze.
    She sighed against his lips. His curled with hers in a soft smile.
    “It would be really hot between us, Vix,” he murmured. Then he slowly drew away, returned the mistletoe to his pocket and grinned seductively, his hazel eyes glowing hypnotically.
    “Nick...” Vixen’s mind was suddenly filled with a lust-induced haze so that she couldn’t think straight. She just stared up at him, perplexed. And feeling singed to the core.
    He took a few steps back and said, “If we ever got together.”
    Then he spun around on his boot heels and walked off, leaving her standing there, still gaping, her lashes fluttering as quickly as the butterflies in her stomach.
    Breathe, Vixen. Breathe .
     
    * * *
     
    Nick hummed bars from Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas in between the flashes of a triumphant smile he couldn’t contain. Sure, he’d taken Vixen by surprise when he’d kissed her, but he’d felt a high-voltage jolt from just the simplest of touches—and from the stunned and heated look on her face, he surmised she’d experienced the same zing of electricity.
    Adrenaline pumped through him as he replayed that magical moment in his head, over and over. Had sweet Vix been just as turned on by his kiss?
    Nick couldn’t deny he’d been insanely aroused. So easily, because it was Vix. Considering his body went into sensory overload when she was in the same room with him—or on the same street corner—it was no wonder he’d lit up like a Roman candle when their lips had barely even touched.
    As he strolled down the street to his house, he considered what she’d said at the bakery. About people in town losing hope, faith. He wondered if Vixen had been speaking of herself as well. Had she lost faith in the true spirit of Christmas? Was that why she struggled so hard on this latest book—why she hadn’t written one in years?
    He understood it must have been painful to lose her mom when she was just a teenager. That was right around the time Vixen had turned particularly introverted. She’d spent a lot of lunches in the corner of the cafeteria at school, alone, feverishly scribbling in her notebook, rarely ever taking her gaze off the pages to look up and see what went on around her.
    Nick thought of Mr. White and the obvious trauma he’d suffered at the time, when his only child had died of cancer and he’d suddenly been responsible for Vixen. He’d never let his distress or heartache over losing his daughter show, not really. He’d kept up his cheerful disposition and had been as jolly as ever. Mr. White had had a ton of support from the other parents—Nick’s included. But he’d been a strong, prideful man who didn’t once lose his stride.
    Nick had admired him greatly. And wasn’t surprised that, after his passing, some of the townsfolk had packed up and moved on. Even Nick’s parents had sadly admitted that life in North Pole would never be the same. They’d grown up with Mr. White as their own personal Santa Claus just as Nick and Vixen and the others had. And though no one really talked about whether they believed in the real deal, they’d all undisputedly believed in the magic Mr. White had brought to their lives.
    The smile on his face faded. His gut clenched as Nick considered how everything had changed in town, so dramatically. And how Vixen had been caught in the middle. He also couldn’t help but wonder if, given the amount of time she’d spent in Bangor these past few years, if she didn’t have one foot out the door herself. What kept her in North Pole, anyway? She had friends, sure. But Vixen still kept mostly to herself. And, clearly, she no longer derived inspiration from the community for her books...
    As he contemplated all of this, he realized that maybe it was time he actually did