Nick (The Kringle Boys Book 1) (9 page)

Still, she couldn’t help the flutter she felt as he ran the back of his hand down her cheek and along her jaw, gentle and sweet.

There it was, that…
something.

“I think Round Two deserves a bed, don’t you?” asked Nick.

Phoebe’s rioting nerve endings were still recovering from round one, but she wrapped her legs around his waist and let him pull her up.

“A bed. How ordinary.”

“We’ve got to start somewhere,” said Nick, and grinned.

NICK WOKE TO THE smell of bacon, chocolate, and the warble of Phoebe’s off-key singing in the small apartment kitchen. He was warm, tangled in the blankets, and stretched, taking inventory, noting the sting of scratches on his back and shoulders, and the soreness of muscles and odd twinges. It had been a
long
time since he’d fucked a woman through the night. The thought of getting his body back up to speed with Phoebe had him grinning, and he spent a few minutes basking in memories of some
very
naughty elf behavior.

They’d napped after the second time, and Nick had woken later, hard and aching, to feel Phoebe shifting over him, her knees gripping his thighs as she sat up, moonlight glinting off those incredible curves. Reaching down, she slid a finger along her drenched cleft and painted the crown of his dick in her juices, grinning as he jerked under her.

“You should go work for my father. You could give lessons in torture,” groaned Nick, rolling his hips, trying to line his rock hard shaft up with her entrance, frustrated beyond reason when she evaded him with a sexy little swivel.

“Sexual torture? Kinky,” teased Phoebe, now rubbing the slick head against her clit, shuddering from the pleasure of it, “You know, I could make a fortune talking to the tabloids. Half the city thinks your cock is made out of ice.”

Nick grabbed her hips.

“Ever been spanked, sweet elf?”

“Have you?”

“I’m game if you are,” said Nick, his voice rough, fingers curving around to clench the plump cheeks of her ass, “but first...”

He arched an eyebrow meaningfully.

Cheeks pink, Phoebe stopped teasing and fit him to her core, sinking down slowly, sucking in a breath as her tight sheath worked him in.

So wet,
marveled Nick, rocking his hips until he was buried to the balls.

“I’ve never…done it…like this, Nick,” moaned Phoebe.

He loved how she came unglued from just the press of his cock into her softness. Nick pushed her knees even further apart, seating her more firmly against him, and Phoebe whimpered, her fingers digging into his abs. He lifted her a few inches, and then pressed her back down, and the soft
“oh”
of awareness had him hardening even further inside her. Hesitant, she moved up…and then down.

Nick had to grit his teeth and close his eyes for a few seconds to get himself under control as fiery streaks of pleasure surged from his cock to every nerve ending.

Phoebe soon found her rhythm, and Nick gave up any pretense of control as her round breasts bounced prettily for his pleasure while her eager pussy yielded to his cock over and over again. Phoebe’s head tipped back, baring the creamy line of her throat, and her hands swept up to cup her breasts, pinching the hard rosy nipples, rolling them in her fingers.

That was it.

Nick couldn’t holding back the shout of satisfaction as he came, his hips pressing her tightly to him as she clenched around him and he filled her with hot seed for the third time that night.

God, I hope she came.

Horrified with himself, Nick pried open an eye to see her sliding down to cuddle on his chest. Now that he wasn’t dying, he could feel the flutters of her sheath around his shaft, and breathed a sigh of relief. She looked sleepy and sated, and Nick felt a pang of
something
in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her curls.

“Mmmm…I think I need a bath,” murmured Phoebe.

He pictured suds sliding lovingly over her curves.

“I can arrange that,” assured Nick.

He didn’t let her sleep after that.

It was dawn before they collapsed together, legs tangled, Phoebe’s warm breath against his chest, her body a comfortable weight over his own.

Rubbing a hand over his morning stubble, Nick pulled himself up and stumbled naked into the kitchen. There was a steaming mug of coffee on the table and strips of bacon sizzling in a pan. Phoebe was at the counter mixing pancake batter, wearing nothing but one of his shirts that hung almost to her knees. She looked tousled, well-fucked, and entirely delicious.

Nick stepped up behind her and wrapped his hands around her middle. Phoebe gasped and dropped the whisk.

“Good morning,” he rumbled at her neck, breathing in her sweetness, making short work of the buttons on his shirt.

“Morning,” she managed, arching into his hands as they stroked up to cup her breasts while he ground his erection into her ass, “I was about to make pancakes.”

“You may want to hold off on that,” murmured Nick, tugging the folds of his shirt up and out of his way, nudging her legs apart with his knee, “I’m still working up an appetite.”

Phoebe moaned as he filled her and gripped the counter.

“Me too,” she gasped, and took every hard inch.

YEARS LATER, PHOEBE WOULD credit herself for inventing the elf “walk of shame” as she tried to slip out of the factory unnoticed after convincing Nick that they both had work to do. His coat covered her ripped dress – she’d have to have it tailored if she ever wanted a hope of wearing it again. Harder to cover up were her kiss-swollen lips and the sense that she was still glowing from the night’s adventure.

Nick, half-naked and all tousled, had pressed her up against the door just before she left, tangled his fingers in her hair, and kissed her with a slow thoroughness that had her breathless and clutching at him. He’d been at turns demanding and passionate, gentle and tender, and in bed, Nick actually
smiled
easily, which had her stupid heart melting for him. Phoebe considered dragging him back to bed for a few more hours of the drugging pleasure that was so much more potent than the sweet confections that wreaked havoc on her system, but managed to pull away, forcing her fingers to let him go.

Now, hurrying across the factory floor toward the entrance, Phoebe was acutely aware of all the elf grins and whispers as she passed. Each breath was filled with the scent of sugar that usually filled the factory, but also the scent of Nick, his coat wrapped around her like a warm embrace. Phoebe nodded politely to her employees, fighting the blush as they nodded knowingly to each other.

Nosy elves.

What or whom she did was her own business, but elves were incurably curious.

“Miss Phoebe,” began a bright-eyed elf with blue-sparkled hair.

“Running late, Trixie. I’ll be back in an hour,” said Phoebe, hurrying by.

So embarrassing.

Next time she’d make sure to have a change of clothes handy.

Next. Time.

The thought made Phoebe stumble as she reached the doorway and stepped out onto the busy New York sidewalk, making her way to the curb to find a cab.

Did she want a next time?

Her well-used body replied with a resounding
“Yes, please,”
with a lick of remembered pleasure down her spine.

Did Nick want a next time?

That was a trickier question, but males liked sex, and Nick Kringle was
most definitely
male.

Was it a good idea?

Phoebe chewed over the question all the way home, during her quick shower and change into more appropriate work clothes, and all the way back to the factory. More sex meant more time together. More time together meant less of a chance of this being a meaningless one-or-several-night-stand. If it wasn’t just a quickie fling to let off sexual tension, then that meant it was something
more
. Which would mean they were building a relationship.

Which was
crazy.
Wasn’t it?

Nick would be gone after the holidays, and Phoebe would transfer to a situation that was less…combustible. Their paths would never cross again.

Phoebe rubbed her palm over her heart, which ached at the thought.

Maybe Nick Kringle would never be
nice
, but that
something
about him couldn’t be ignored. A night in his bed had convinced Phoebe of that. No man could touch a woman as possessively and reverently as he had if his heart were as icy as everyone said it was. She had no idea if Jack Frost’s son could even
fall
in love, but she knew she could, and if Nick kept revealing those tiny glimpses of humanity and compassion toward her fellow elf, along with the delightful naughtiness of his passionate side, she’d be well on her way. And then she’d have nothing to show for it but a broken heart and some bittersweet memories come January.

Sleeping with Nick Kringle again was a bad idea, decided Phoebe as she paid the cabbie and smoothed her suit on her way back into the factory. One night was forgivable – who could resist? Anything more than that would surely be a terrible, terrible disaster in the making.

Even if it would feel so,
so
good.

Squelching the urge to seek Nick out immediately, Phoebe went to check in with Spokes. Christmas was just over a week away, and candy production was moving into overdrive. On top of the regular chaos of holiday orders, the factory was gearing up for the last big shipment of magical candy to North Pole Village, to help fuel Santa’s elves through the last hectic week before the big night. If all went well, they’d be ready to ship tonight.

Nerves bounced in Phoebe’s stomach – the factory and customer relations with the humans were important, of course, but
this
was the real test. They were the only candy factory in the world tasked with this mission, and failure wasn’t an option. With that in mind, Phoebe grabbed a clipboard and got to work.

NICK KRINGLE WAS HAVING THE best day of his life. His body hummed with satisfaction as he fixed the faulty thermometer on the fudge boiler, consulted with the floor manager about the output from the gumdrop machine, and sampled three new varieties of truffles, settling on ginger because it reminded him of Phoebe. He found himself humming under his breath, even
smiling
at the elves’ stupid holiday jokes. They turned wide eyes on him, and then erupted in delighted peals of laughter. One of them actually hugged him.

It was idiotic.

It was all Phoebe’s fault. Somewhere between sating the hard-driving lust that had been torturing him for the last few days and bundling her up into his coat this morning, something had changed.

Just endorphin overload
, Nick reassured himself, unsure if he even had such things as a quasi-human.

Whatever it was, he was having distinctly
odd
feelings about the sexy little half-elf. Thinking about her got him heated up, which was to be expected, but he was unprepared for the surge of tenderness that accompanied the lust. He wanted to cuddle her by the fireplace and listen to the sweetness of her voice. He wanted to see admiration and pride shining in her big blue eyes after a hard day’s work in the factory. He wanted to
talk
to her for hours on end, for Pete’s sake.

She’d called him a surprise. If he was a surprise, Phoebe Winters was a fucking revelation. It was still hard to wrap his brain around the idea that in bed with a lover, Phoebe could let go of her controlled, no-nonsense, severe manner, and have a little down and dirty fun. Nick frowned at the idea that other men would have enjoyed his elf goddess, and suppressed the urge to track them down and turn them into icy red spots on the pavement. He’d settle for keeping Phoebe so satisfied that she’d never look at another man, even if he had to fuck his dick raw to do it.

Poor me.

And if it took a month to get her out of his system, so be it. He could survive in New York for another month. Or a few months. At some point, hot sex would become ordinary sex, and then he could walk away like the chilly bastard he was. Maybe. Nick was having trouble envisioning sex with Phoebe as being anything other than off the charts, but that was a worry for later. Today he had to get the magical candy shipment ready to go.

And a saboteur to foil. He hadn’t forgotten that Phoebe still needed proof, or that in this last week before Christmas, any more “accidents” could be truly disastrous.

The factory was buzzing, everyone working at double speed. Nick knew Phoebe was in the building somewhere, tackling her own mile-long To Do list, and tried to stay focused on his own tasks, but he couldn’t help keeping an eye out, looking for the gleam of her golden curls, listening for the merry chime of her laughter. He checked and rechecked his list, confirmed with Spokes that there had been no unusual activity overnight, and sealed off any openings that might leave room for Canning or his minions to get inside. Nick would turn this factory into a fortress if he had to.

By mid-afternoon, Nick was surprised to find that he’d run out of things to do. The shipments were almost ready to go, the candy store was busy with customers and cheerful elves, and all that was left to do was to see the final magical candy shipment off to the Manhattan portal.

Which meant there was always…
paperwork
.

Nick shuddered, but forced himself to climb the steps to his office. Kristoff, the elf who’d been commandeered into being his secretary, ran a tight ship, but there were still piles of forms, requests, and concerns that couldn’t be answered by anyone but him. He’d rather have his nuts frozen off, but so it was – a part of every day eaten up with stupid, fucking, paperwork. He didn’t even bother with the computer side of things, just let Kristoff deal with it.