She doesn’t need me. She’s dreaming about something I have no right to intrude on.

The way she sucked on your thumb, though. . . Maybe the voice in my head is a fucking dirtbag, too.

Neely

I’m dreaming of one of Ford’s hands between my thighs, his other pressed against my mouth. Shh, be a good girl for—

And then I’m awake. It’s a disorienting shift because the last thing I really remember, I was heading up the path to the lighthouse and thought I heard his voice.

Now I’m lying on my back in a dark room, and it’s hot. I’ve pushed off the blankets— Blankets.

I’m in a bed.

There’s a grunt from the shadows, and more comes back to me in flashes. Ford carrying me in here. Ford trying to get me to take medicine. His hand. . . Oh.

I sit up, smooth my dress down over my hips, and whisper his name. “Ford?”

Click here to keep reading Santa’s Baby

About the Author

Chloe Maine has written other books before, but none of them as purely id-driven as her debut, Before He Was Her Headmaster. She delights in the fantasy of bending big men to the wicked desires of supposedly innocent women. When she’s not writing, she’s probably reading. She lives in Canada with her own big man, raising the babies they made together.

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