Tangled in Tinsel (Holidates #1)(9)

Me: You’re a twat. You fed my subconscious dirty thoughts, and now I’m stuck here, and everything they say to me sounds like they want to fuck me. Also, I had three glasses of wine.





Elle: Don’t blame the wine. It’s because you’re a secret freak. Just let the flag fly. I don’t know why you’re so bent out of shape over the possibility of fucking one of them.





Me: I don’t know either…and that’s because I’m drunk. No more wine.





Elle: Nuh-uh. Way more wine. Get all the way drunk. And pregnant.





Me: What is wrong with you?





Elle: Fine, don’t get pregnant. Just swallow all your babies.





Me: Ewwwww





I toss my phone to the bed, propping myself onto my elbows and looking toward the bathroom. I’m definitely going to need a cold shower.

“I really hope there’s a detachable showerhead.”





three





“Tell me I’m a good girl.”





Have you ever been in a room in someone’s house that makes you feel poor? Because this bathroom would be that room.

I should’ve paid attention earlier when he brought me in here because this is beyond gorgeous. Like excessively nice. Obviously, the whole house is the same. Still, something about how the sleek egg-shaped tub is displayed in the center of the room seriously elevates the space. I laugh to myself because the decorator in me is showing.

“I will definitely use you later,” I say aloud, walking past the tub to the shower.

The shower’s the kind with no door, just a pane of glass you walk around. So I strip, tossing my clothes on the floor before stepping inside to turn on the water.

Alec wasn’t kidding about this shower being tricky. A hundred buttons must be on the wall, right below the showerhead…the detachable one. I can’t help but smile as I reach for it, bending forward to eye all the options.

Okay, how do I turn you on?

I hit one decorated with three wiggly lines, immediately unleashing multiple streams from above that cascade like a waterfall.

Oh wow. Looks like owning a Forbes-listed holding company gets you tech money and fancy showers. I leave the showerhead where it is, relaxing my head back, letting the warmth drift over my body. My hands glide over my head, slicking my hair back before dragging down over my shoulders to my chest. Sheesh, even the temperature is perfect.

What an end to a wild night. My muscles relax even more as I stand there. I needed this shower.

I’ll just wash those men right out of my hair…so to speak. I close my eyes, lowering my chin, letting the water run over my face. Tomorrow I’m Sober Sally. No harmless “one glass” of wine that turns into a bottle—well, almost bottle—that turns me into a predator.

Nope. I’m going to turn over a new leaf. I won’t even know what a penis is, let alone be a person who thinks about the ones in the other room.

Tomorrow the new and improved Samantha will have never pictured how beautiful those four cocks are when they’re hard. Oh fuck. My breathing slows as the thought suddenly becomes very specific.

All I can see, eyes closed under the water, is Jace standing in the living room. All his tattoos are on display while he’s rubbing his hand over his chest. And his dick bobs, rock-hard, almost touching his belly button. Obviously, in every fantasy, dicks are twelve inches.

“Get on your knees. I’m gonna feed you my cock, and you’re gonna suck it like a—”

My head draws back from the water, eyes blinking rapidly as I lock onto the treasure I’d almost forgotten about.

Hello, lover.

I grab the magical detachable showerhead, flicking the little lever on top, but nothing happens.

“Dammit,” I whisper.

My body shivers because the vision of Jace is still heavy in my thoughts. What’s a girl got to do for some fantasy action?

I bend forward again, trying to suss out what button I should hit. This is why listening is important. But no, I was too busy thinking about Alec’s ass. Now I’ll never get off. I’m a fucking dummy.

My eyes jump from symbol to symbol, my nose scrunching up.

“Which one are you?”

I take a shot by pressing a button, but that only switches from multiple waterfalls to one, so I try another. Nope, that’s steam. The glass begins fogging up, making me squint to see.

“Maybe this one…shit.”

The steam stops, but cold-ass water comes pouring down from above. I shriek, jumping back before immediately tapping another, barely looking at what I hit.

Christmas music begins to blare.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Now I’m stabbing the button, trying to make it stop. But “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” gets louder and louder.

“What the fuck. Turn off!” I yell, trying not to freeze to death while smacking the whole damn display.

I’m mid-panic when a deep bass reverberates over the music.

“Samantha.”

Samantha? That’s me. Oh my god, that’s Cole.

Two things happen next: One, I scream, trying to cover my body just as Cole’s eyes connect with mine. And two, he turns around just as I smack into that single pane of glass.