Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
That’s me, by the way. I’m the bowling pin.
“Well, you already owe the Strongs for that precious, likely irreplaceable ornament that just took a plunge off the tenth story of the tree,” he shouts down at me, “so I recommend not shakin’ around like a fruit fly caught in Spider Santa’s web.”
I’ve already decided I hate this guy. “Obviously I can’t move anyway. Can you help me out instead of being a sassy ass? My feet are, like … caught on something. I think my scarf is, too. Or is it my sweater?—or all of me.”
A moment passes as I continue to awkwardly maintain my position, unable to free myself or step anywhere without risking even more valuable ornaments falling to their doom.
“Damn,” comes the guy’s voice again, much, much closer this time—and softer. “You really are caught in Spider Santa’s web.”
I try to turn my neck. I can’t. “What do you—?”
“Don’t turn around,” he orders me. “It’s your pretty lil’ scarf that’s caught … I think. Made a bit of a noose around your neck.”
I sigh. “Lovely. If I’d known that this was how I’d die.”
“Just stay still.”
“I am.”
Suddenly, a hand touches the side of my neck. I flinch away from it, startled. “Easy, easy,” says the guy in a singsong tone, like I’m a fidgety, difficult horse he’s soothing. “Didn’t I just tell you to stay still? Or are you tryin’ to rack up your Strong family bill even more than you already have?”
I glare at him—well, the best I can do without actually seeing him or turning around. “Is my scarf caught on something or not?”
“You’re tangled in the tree skirt, for one, so don’t even think about movin’ those two left feet of yours, either.”
“I don’t have two left feet.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
My body tightens up with frustration. “So is there anything I can move? I’m getting kinda stiff here.”
“Stiff, you said?”
Without warning, his hand slips around the front of my waist.
I feel his chest press against my back.
The surprise of all this sudden intimacy and touching makes me jerk away. “W-What’re you—??”
“Hey, hey, I said no movin’!” His voice is very close to my ear now. “I gotta hang on to you in case you go slippin’ and slidin’ around again. Can’t risk both of us tumbling into the Strong family pride, here. Do you even know how much Mrs. Strong loves her tree? More than life itself. Maybe even more than her kids.”
My jaw tightens. “I doubt that.”
“That’s why she entrusted me to decorate it, just like I did last year, and the year before that. Trust don’t come easily from that woman. Now stay still, I said.” His voice crackles slightly as it gets softer, his Southern accent thick and annoyingly sultry. “I think your scarf snagged on one of the branches.”
I sigh, despairing. “Don’t tell me it put a hole in my scarf.”
“Can’t tell. Might’ve put a few.”
“Damn it. This is a very important scarf, too.”
“Why’re you wearing one, anyway?” His voice is so close and soft, it feels like fingertips gently stroking my ear, sending chills of unexpected delight up and down my neck. “You from out of town or somethin’? Friend of the family? Canadian?”
“Canadian??”
“I’m just tryin’ to justify this fancy scarf you’ve got on. You do know you’re in south-as-all-heck Texas, right?”
This guy is so annoying. “Can you please just get me out of this tree?”
“I’m tryin’, but not sure. You might be stuck here forever.”
I hear him breathe as his fingers work on my scarf, barely out of view. Tiny puffs of his breath continue to touch my ear and the back of my neck, triggering all of my most sensitive spots like no tomorrow. Seeing as I can’t even manage to turn my head with my scarf so tightly affixed to it, I can’t hope to escape him.
What is taking so long? Is he enjoying my predicament?
“Hold up, think I got it,” he says, hope in his voice. Then: “Ah, nope, still stuck. Hang on.”
His body presses more against my back—and now I can feel his hips against me. The more he moves, the more I feel him. Things are growing incredibly intimate in a short span of time.
He lets out the slightest groan as his fingers work.
A jagged breath plays across my neck, tickling me.
Is that his crotch I feel pressing against my ass?
“Do you really have to stand so close?” I ask. “Your breath is all over me.”
“Well, do you want me to just leave you here to figure this out yourself? I can do that, you know. You can just hang out here like another fancy ornament decorating this tree.”
I bite my tongue. He’s not going to make this any easier for me. Let’s try a different approach. “Was it, uh … really valuable? The ornament that fell? Is Nadine gonna kill me?”