Page 64 of Don't Shoot Me Santa

“No promises,” he said, voice flat as cold stone. “If it itches, I’m calling HR.”

“It’s top-quality cotton,” Tessa called out from across the room. “Strokes my skin like a fairy!”

Aaron pointed at her. “That’s offensive.”

He ducked behind Blackwell already mid-conversation, already pretending not to track him with those dead-eyed glances and made a beeline for the loos, heart thudding behind his ribs.

Inside, the cubicle was out of order. Locked. With a handwritten sign taped to the door:Not flushing. DO NOT USE.

Figures.

Aaron dropped the novelty jumper over the sink and yanked off his hoodie as a shiver climbed up his spine. He clocked movement in the mirror before the door creaked open behind him.

He didn’t need to turn around.

He already knew.

Aaron lifted his chin, meeting Blackwell’s lecherous gaze in the mirror. He stood in the doorway as if he owned the fucking air, and the way he dragged his eyes over Aaron’s chest, settling on the metal at his nipple, wasn’t subtle. Wasn’t accidental, either. Aaron could feel every inch of it.

Blackwell didn’t even pretend to look away. “If it doesn’t fit, there’s always another one.”

Aaron didn’t bother to analyse that and yanked the jumper on. Not because he was told, but because he hated the cold on his skin more than the feel of fabric. The cotton slipped over him as if made to provoke. Velvety. Flattering.Infuriating. If it hadn’t been for the glittering cartoon dog and the wordsMerryWoofmas, he might have nicked it and worn it home.

“Suits you. Must know your type.” Blackwell lingered far too long, a secretive smile lifting his lips as if he’d let Aaron into something private between them. “See you in the car. Bring the dog.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Aaron stood there, the warmth of the jumper crawling up his neck. His reflection stared back. And for some reason he was unsure of, he fished out his phone and called Kenny.

He picked up on the second ring.“Hey. Everything okay?”

“I love you.”

There was a beat. Brief. Kenny’s usual processing pause. The one Aaron knew meant his whole mind had already shifted gears. Not because Aaron never said it. He did. He tossed it over his shoulder like an afterthought most of the time. Definitely moaned it into kisses. And often used it as a weapon in arguments so he could watch Kenny roll his eyes and call him theatrical. Plus there was that thing he’d said in bed after the bath the other night, of which he still recoiled at how vulnerable he’d been saying it.

But this wasn’t one of those times.

So Kenny said,“You need me to come get you?”

Aaron bit his thumbnail, eyes still locked on the mirror. “No. Just… say something steady.”

“What’s happening?”

“They’re making me wear a Christmas jumper.”

He heard the quiet smile in Kenny’s reply.“I’ll bet you look cute as a button.”

“That isnotsteady.”

Kenny shifted gears like he always did when it mattered, and with that utter conviction Aaroncraved like a drug, he said,“You’re safe. You’re mine. I’ve got you. And I love you. Adore you, actually.”

Aaron swallowed hard. The sting behind his eyes coming too fast to blink away.

“Do you practise these?” He sniffed. “Have a list of perfect things to say and spin the wheel depending on how broken I sound?”

“I say what needs saying.”

“How do you know?”