BOOK TWO: Naughty Little Elf(1)

~Mia’s POV~

I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this. Standing in the middle of Westfield Mall dressed as a sexy elf—short green velvet dress, candy-cane striped stockings, little bell-tipped hat. This was not exactly how I’d pictured my first holiday break from college. But rent was due, my campus job had dried up, and the “Holiday Helper” gig paid stupidly well for smiling and posing with kids on Santa’s lap.

The line was already snaking around the winter wonderland setup when I clocked in at noon. Fake snow drifted from hidden blowers, and the giant gilded throne at the center looked like something out of a naughty Christmas card. I adjusted my hat, tugged the hem of my dress down,it barely covered my ass,and plastered on my brightest smile.

That’s when I saw him.

Santa.

Not the usual college guy in a fake beard they normally hired. This Santa was… different. Tall, broad-shouldered, filling out the red velvet suit in a way that made it strain across his chest. The white trim framed thick arms, and even sitting down he radiated quiet authority. His beard was real—full, silver-streaked, perfectly groomed,and the eyes above the half-moon spectacles were a sharp, piercing blue that locked onto me the second I stepped into view.

I swear my stomach flipped.

I knew those eyes.

Mr. Clausen. My neighbor from back home. The quiet widower who lived in the big colonial across the cul-de-sac, the one who mowed his lawn shirtless in the summer and always waved politely when I jogged past. He had to be at least forty-five, maybe older, but he wore it like aged whiskey—smooth, rich, dangerously potent and he loves children. I guess that's why he's playing as Santa.

And right now, those whiskey-blue eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my thighs clench.

I forced myself to move, taking my place beside the throne as the first family approached. A little girl in pigtails climbed onto his lap, and Mr. Clausen, who was as Santa,slipped effortlessly into character, deep jolly laugh and all. But every time the camera flashed, his gaze slid sideways, finding me. Lingering on the curve of my hips, the way the velvet hugged my breasts, the little jingle bells at my ankles.

By the third family, I was hyper-aware of every breath. My skin felt too tight, nipples peaking against the thin fabric because the mall air-conditioning was arctic and his stare was pure fire. When it was my turn to lean in for the group photo, I perched on the arm of his throne, one hand on his shoulder for “balance”. I felt the heat of him through the velvet. Solid. Real. Nothing fake about this Santa.

“Smile pretty for the camera, little elf,” he murmured, voice low enough only I could hear. The rumble vibrated straight through my palm into my core.

I turned my head, lips parting in what I hoped looked like an innocent grin, but our faces were inches apart. His pine and peppermint scent wrapped around me. I saw the moment recognition hit him. Those blue eyes widened a fraction, then darkened, pupils blowing wide.

“Mia?” he breathed, so softly the word barely existed.

I had changed my hair spray so it was kind of hard to recognize me. I tilted my head, letting my ponytail brush his shoulder. “Hi, neighbor,” I whispered back, sweet as sugar cane. “Hi Mr handsome Santa.”

His jaw flexed under the beard. The little boy on his lap squirmed, oblivious, but Mr. Clausen’s gloved hand tightened almost imperceptibly on the armrest. I shifted my weight, letting my thigh press against his upper arm,just for a second, just enough to feel the muscle tense beneath the padding.

The camera flashed. I smiled wider.

The rest of the afternoon blurred into a torturous game. Every time I leaned over to adjust a child’s position, I made sure he had a perfect view down the low neckline of my dress. When I handed candy canes to the kids, I bent at the waist, knowing the skirt rode up in the back. Each time our eyes met, the air crackled.

During a short break, I slipped behind the velvet curtain to grab water. My heart was pounding, thighs slick with a need I didn’t want to name. I pressed the cold bottle against my neck, trying to cool down, when the curtain rustled.

He stepped into the tiny space, towering over me even without the throne. The Santa hat was gone, silver-streaked dark hair slightly mussed, beard still perfectly in place. Up close, he was even more overwhelming. His broad chest rising and falling and that spicy pine scent was stronger now.

“You shouldn’t be wearing that,” he said quietly, voice rough.

I lifted my chin, pulse racing. “It’s the uniform.”

His gaze dragged down my body slow enough to feel like a touch. “It’s a weapon.”

Heat flooded my cheeks and lower. I took a step closer, close enough that the bells on my shoes jingled softly. “Do you like it, Mr. Clausen?”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. His gloved hand lifted, hesitated, then brushed a stray strand of hair from my cheek. The leather was cool, but his knuckles grazed my skin like fire.

“You’ve grown up, Mia,” he murmured. “Far too beautifully,and this new hair color makes you look utterly irresistible."

My breath caught. I could feel the years between us like a live wire. Him old enough to be my father, me barely legal, playing elf to him as Santa in front of hundreds of people, and to think, I wanted him. It was wrong. It was insane.

And God, I wanted it.

The curtain rustled again,another elf calling us back. He dropped his hand, but not before his thumb traced the edge of my lower lip, just once.

“Break’s over,” he said, voice gravel and velvet. “But we’re not done, little elf.”

I watched him walk back to the throne, adjusting the suit as he sat, that commanding presence settling over him again. When the next family approached and I took my place beside him, his hand rested on the armrest but fingers were slightly curled.

I let my fingers brush his as I passed a child forward. Just a graze. Just enough.

The sparks flew straight between my legs.

By closing time, I was shaking with anticipation. The mall lights dimmed, families gone, fake snow machines powering down. I lingered, pretending to straighten props, heart hammering as the grotto emptied.

I knew he was watching.

I knew tonight, one of the things on my naughty would be fulfilled.