Scoring with Santa
He caught her wrist as she moved out of his personal space. He had fast reflexes for a guy who had just been struggling to keep his hands interlaced behind his back. “Don’t stop,” he murmured, flashing that megawatt smile again.
She forced a chuckle. “Hey, I charge a lot for private lessons. That’s all you get for a freebie.”
He threw his head back and laughed, a deep rumbling sound that warmed her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “Well, how can I go about scheduling one of those privates?”
She looked away, stepping toward the door and forcing him to drop her wrist. “Ah, you know, check with the front desk,” she said vaguely with a laugh.
“Actually, I was hoping for your number.”
“I’m sure you were,” she said over her shoulder.
“Really? You’re just blowing me off, huh?”
She stopped and pivoted. He sounded dead sincere now, which surprised her. “Wow, yeah. About that…I’m, uh, not exactly dating right now.”
Even if I were, I’d stay way the hell away from a player like you.
Her smile wobbled. This shouldn’t be so hard.
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his gym shorts, which few men could pull off and still look manly. He nailed it. She realized with a stab of guilt he was trying to hide the bulge of his erection. “Sure, I get it. No problem.”
Had she actually hurt his feelings? Impossible. He was a player.
She hadn’t meant to be a tease. She ought to be spanked.
By him. Just before he took her hard from behind…