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“Frost… you got run over by… Rayne?” The doctor’s lips twitched with amusement. “You got run over by a Rayne Dear?”
Alfred Buddie, a fucking doctor. As if he needed to be more of a good person.
Alfie in dark blue scrubs with tatted up arms, a dark beard that looked soft and silky, and bedroom eyes definitely achieved the divine.
Not even the strongest of grudges could withstand the power of Saint Nick on a mission, and right now… he had a point to make. Fuck, I was done for.
A girl never forgot her first love, and in my case, I had three. That shit stuck on the mind and soul for eternity.
Nick scoffed. “We were never just friends, Rayne. You were—are—the sun of our solar system.”
“How do you want me, Saint Nick? Are you going to use me like a good little ho, ho, ho?”
Who the fuck needed three wise men when you could have three well-hung ones instead? Merry Christmas to me, indeed.
