Prancer Claws by Sable Sylvan

Author:Sable Sylvan [Sylvan, Sable]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: www.sablesylvan.com
Published: 2018-12-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Christmas Eve Eve, 2009

Carol went inside and took off her boots and jacket, leaving the boots outside and putting her jacket over the couch.

Carol still couldn’t believe that some anonymous benefactor had gifted her a brand-new wardrobe. She hadn’t gotten cold, playing in the snow with Ethan. When they’d walked to her house, there hadn’t been snow slushing around inside her boots. Her feet were dry, and she didn’t feel as if she’d lose a toe to frostbite.

All that seemed believable compared to the fact she’d kissed Ethan underneath the mistletoe. That moment replayed in her head like a Christmas movie stuck in a VCR.

She went into the kitchen to make hot chocolate. She put two mugs down on the kitchen counter and grabbed a bag of marshmallows. As she put marshmallows in the cups, she looked up and saw Ethan, shirtless, standing in her living room, in his human form.

And Ethan wasn’t wearing any pants.

Ethan was wearing boxers, but that was it. His taut, firm body was moist. Was it with sweat or with melted snow from their outdoor romp? His thick muscles gleamed under her living room lights.

“Whoa,” said Carol under her breath, dropping the bag of marshmallows on the counter.

“You look like you want to skip the cocoa and take this straight to the bedroom,” said Ethan.

“You’re right,” said Carol, watching as Ethan walked toward her. “I think the cocoa can wait.”

Ethan walked up to Carol, wearing only his boxers, and picked Carol up in his arms. Carol had never been carried by a man before. She was thick, curvy, and had some heft. Ethan had picked her up like she weighed nothing, as easily as Carol had lifted the bag of marshmallows.

“You’re wet,” muttered Ethan.

Carol blushed. How could Ethan tell she wanted him that badly?

“Your clothes,” continued Ethan. “We need to get you out of these wet things before you catch a death of cold. I can warm you up. Where’s your bedroom?”

“At the end of the hall,” said Carol.

Ethan carried Carol to the bedroom. He held her up with one arm while opening the door to her room. The room had basic amenities, but it was obviously furniture suited for a rental, not furniture fit for a comfortable home. Ethan put Carol down on the bed and undid her blouse, button by button.

“Let’s get these wet things off of you,” said Ethan.

“The nightgowns are in the bottom dresser drawer,” said Carol.

“Do you really think you’re going to need a nightgown?” growled Ethan. “Lean back. I need to get these pants off you. They’re practically painted onto your body. Don’t know how you can move in them.”

“They’re looser when they’re not wet,” said Carol shyly, crossing her arms over her chest. Carol wondered why she’d turned so shy all of a sudden. She’d been so confident around Ethan, confident enough to put him in his place at the bakery, even though he was a big, lumbering bear shifter who could’ve crushed her in to dust with two fingers.

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