Contents

  A Very Wicked Christmas

  Wicked as Sin

  Seducing the Innocent

  About Shayla Black

  Other Books by Shayla Black

  A Very Wicked Christmas

  Wicked Lovers short , Book 11.75

  Written by Shayla Black

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  This book is an original publication by Shayla Black.

  Copyright 2017 Shelley Bradley LLC

  Cover Design by: Rachel Connolly

  Edited by: Amy Knupp of Blue Otter

  Excerpt from Wicked as Sin © 2020 by Shelley Bradley LLC

  Excerpt from Wicked Ties © 2007 by Shelley Bradley LLC

  ISBN: 978-1-936596-42-3

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by an electronic or mechanical means—except for brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews—without express written permission.

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away, as it is illegal and an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  Morgan Cole pinned her hair on top of her head in a messy bun as she headed for the kitchen. One fiery curl slid free and waved in her face like a cape in front of an agitated bull. She shoved it back. After the day she’d had, she would trample anyone who tried to stand between her and a quiet evening with her husband. But first she had Christmas Eve dinner to clean up and toys to assemble for their two children. Then…she hoped they could have some time to themselves. To reconnect.

  “The kids down?” Jack asked, clearing the table.

  He eyed her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. That sexy Cajun could still be the sexiest enigma she’d ever met. But mischief danced in his dark stare. Morgan swore she saw a hint of impatience, too.

  Jack Cole was up to something.

  She smiled fondly. “Lacey is fussy, so we’ll see. But Brice exhausted himself trying to keep up with the Murphy boys. I don’t know what he did with Delaney and Tyler’s sons this afternoon, but he was asleep the second his head hit the pillow.”

  “Those two rug rats are hell on wheels. I almost feel sorry for the shit Tyler will go through when they’re teenagers.”

  Morgan scoffed as she began rinsing the dishes in the sink and slotting them in the dishwasher. “No, you don’t. You’re watching because you know the wait will be worth the entertainment value.”

  He laughed. “True enough, cher. The teenage pranks they’ll pull will be epic.”

  She couldn’t disagree. “But have you considered the larger implications? What will Seth and Chase teach Brice as he grows up?”

  Jack’s smile faltered as if that hadn’t occurred to him. “Nothing good. Merde.”

  Morgan laughed. “The person I really feel sorry for is Delaney. Since she gave birth to a third boy this fall, she’s drowning in testosterone. Even that chocolate lab they got a few months back is male.”

  “She’s definitely outnumbered.” Jack grinned.

  Morgan and her husband finished tidying in companionable silence until the kitchen was nearly spotless again. Everything felt so…normal. But eagerness tugged against the anxiety simmering under her surface while she watched Jack clean the table with a disinfecting wipe, his muscles bunching under a gray Henley with every swipe. Damn, he looked good.

  He trashed the disposable cloth before sidling behind her and locking his arms around her waist. This time, like every time Jack Cole touched her, Morgan’s body lit up.

  How did the man still do that to her after more than five years of marriage, two beautiful kids, and endless memories of breathtaking sex?

  “What are you wearing under my sweatshirt?” He fitted a hand under the overlarge garment and felt his way up her not-quite-flat belly.

  What did he think when he touched her?

  Trying to get her body back in shape after Lacey’s birth five months ago had been more difficult than after Brice’s the year before. At first, Jack didn’t notice or care. The doctor had given them clearance to resume sex at roughly ten a.m. six weeks after Lacey’s birth. At two minutes after ten, he’d been buried deep inside her in the parking lot outside the hospital, kissing her frantically and murmuring how fucking much he’d missed her. She’d welcomed him urgently, desperately because she’d missed him just as much.

  Since then, it seemed as if their life had careened out of control. Jack’s job was stressful on a good day—and there hadn’t been too many of those recently. Business was beyond brisk, and one of their operatives had walked off the job a few weeks back. Jack had been forced to take his place on a mission. She’d bitten her nails and lost sleep for six days straight, waiting to hear that he’d survived the op on Iraqi soil.

  Her life hadn’t been less hectic. Switching from in front of the camera to behind it for the upcoming season of her cable show Turn Me On had been both challenging and rewarding. Between work and life in general, she felt as if all the cells had been sucked from her brain. She and Jack hadn’t found much time to lose themselves in each other the way they used to. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss their spontaneity and their long afternoons of punishment, sensual torture, and toe-curling passion.

  Did Jack feel the same or was he content with the new status quo?

  In all fairness, he was still adjusting to parenting. They both were. It had certainly had an interesting impact on their Dom/sub marriage. Instead of putting each other first, she and Jack had quickly and mutually put their kids’ needs ahead of everything. But after Lacey’s birth, it seemed as if their relationship had fallen way down the list.

  Morgan had hoped she could find some time alone with him this week since the show’s production was on hiatus. But last-minute gift-buying, wrapping, and holiday meal prep had ruined her plans. Jack’s extended family had dropped in with presents for the kids just yesterday and stayed for a long visit. She and Jack had simply been busy everywhere except the bedroom.

  Deep down, Morgan knew her husband loved and desired her…but was it possible Jack didn’t mind their crazy lives because he secretly lamented the new pooch in her tummy and the extra curve of her hips she’d been unable to banish after two children? She hated scrutinizing herself critically like an insecure twit. Maybe it was post-pregnancy hormones but the pressure to be the perfect mom serving the perfect Christmas dinner in her perfectly clean house before she morphed into the perfectly sexy wife for her amazing husband nagged at her.

  “I’m not wearing anything slinky.” And she felt vaguely guilty for that, too. “Just a maternity bra.”

  She’d been trying to finish a sexy surprise to entice him with on Christmas morning, after the kids went down for their naps. At this rate, she’d be up all night putting the last touches on it. But if he made love to her again like he used to, it would be so worth it.

  “I love your maternity bras. Nothing like easy-open cups so I can kiss your nipples whenever I want. Like now.” He sounded excited by that prospect, rocking his stiff cock into her backside.

  Morgan moaned as his fingers drifted over her breasts. She closed her eyes and melted into him.

  Then suddenly, he dropped his chin on the top of her head with a sigh. “Except we still have toys to assemble for Brice and Lacey, don’t we?”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes.

  “Where are they?”

  Sex aborted. Again.

  She sighed. “Hall closet, top shelf.”

  Jack turned her to face him with a frown, his dark eyes full of concern. He cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb across her skin. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m worried about the show, about making Christmas perfect for the kids, about you and us—”

  “Shh.” He layered a soft kiss over her lips. “The transition to the new show hostess is going great. The kids will love Christmas—not that either of them will be old enough to remember it. As long as I have you, I’m the happiest man alive. You and I are going to be just fine, Mrs. Cole.”

  Morgan saw his logic, but she didn’t want to be fine. She wanted the magic they’d shared in the past. Apart from the weeks she’d been recovering from childbirth, when had she and Jack ever gone more than a day or two without sex?

  Never, and she missed him like hell.

  Mustering up a smile, she nodded his way. “Yeah. Fine.”

  His eyes narrowed as he gave her a dissecting stare. “Cher, talk to me.”

  She did her best to shuttle her worries. They didn’t have time for her moping now. “I’m all right. Let’s play Santa’s elves so we can get some sleep. Hopefully the kids won’t wake us up at oh-dark-thirty.”

  Morgan turned away before Jack could comment and paired her phone to the Bluetooth speaker in the family room. She turned on some classic Christmas music. The latest holiday tunes were all well and good, but nothing beat Bing Crosby or Burl Ives in her book. She tolerated one or two of Jack’s Zydeco holiday songs, despite the fact they burned her ears.

  Johnny Mathis resounded through the cozy house, proclaiming that it was the most wonderful time of the year. If that was true, why wasn’t she in the spirit?

  When she turned around again, Jack had started the gas fireplace and doffed his Henley. He wore a ribbed white tank and an expression of single-minded concentration as
he sandwiched a massive rectangular box between his big hands.

  Her tongue nearly rolled out of her mouth. Her husband still made her hot, made her blush, made her ache.

  “Some assembly required.” He snorted. “Why do I have a feeling that’s an understatement?”

  Despite everything on her mind, Morgan laughed. Her sexy Cajun could be infamously impatient. His military mentality was both take-charge and get-it-done. That didn’t always allow for silly things like reading directions.

  “Let’s think positive.” She approached with a box cutter and sliced through the tape holding the cardboard closed.

  Jack turned the box upside down and poured out all the pieces of Brice’s new tricycle. It looked like a mountain of washers, stickers, plastic parts, and other shiny objects she couldn’t name.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he groaned.

  “We’ll do it together.”

  “I love my son. You know how much I do.”

  Yes, Jack would dive into an inferno or throw himself into a pack of hungry wolves to save their little dark-eyed imp. “I hear a but.”

  “I’ll stay up all night if I have to. But why don’t these toy companies understand that parents are damn tired by Christmas Eve and want some sleep?”

  “Because they know we’re going to buy the toys anyway to see our kids smile the next morning when they think Santa has come.”

  “True.” He scrubbed a hand through his dark hair. “Bastards.”

  Morgan remembered all the times she’d gripped those thick, inky strands in the heat of their shared passion. The feel of his slick skin sliding against hers as he sank deep inside her body.

  She shoved down a needy shudder.

  “I know the assembly will be worth seeing the joy on our boy’s face, but right now I want to punch someone in”—he flipped through the instruction booklet and read where the product had been made—“China.” Jack retrieved the tools he’d stashed earlier on the top shelf of their bookcase. “Somewhere up there, my grandfather is laughing at me.”

  That made Morgan smile. “And urging you to give me lingerie for Christmas.”

  “Yeah. He was shameless in his quest for great-grandchildren.”

  Sadness passed over Jack’s face, and she gathered her husband against her, offering her love and comfort. “I’m glad he got to meet baby Brice before he passed away.”

  Just barely, but they both took comfort in their one picture of the old man cradling his newborn namesake.

  Jack eased back, brows slashed down, mouth flat and taut. More often than not, when he talked about his beloved grandfather, he got choked up. “I can’t believe this will be our second Christmas without him.”

  Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “He’s here with you in spirit, babe. He always will be.”

  With a nod, Jack brushed a kiss over her lips. “I just loved that old bastard.”

  “I did, too,” she managed to squeak out.

  “You’re right. No crying, cher. It’s Christmas, and he’d be mad as hell if we wasted the holiday on grief.” He averted his face and studied the scattered tricycle parts. “Take the instructions and tell me where we’re starting.

  Countless holiday tunes and a sledgehammer later, Jack peered at the mostly assembled tricycle, steadying the front wheel between his feet as she held the handlebars in the slot. “Seriously? Just…pound it.”

  “That’s what it says,” she swore. “I’ll hold the axel so it doesn’t move. Give that cap a good whack. Then we’re supposedly done.”

  “I would have liked to take a hammer to all of this two hours ago.”

  “You’re sounding like a grumbly old man,” she teased.

  “I’m feeling like one. And you should watch your mouth, cher. I’m not too tired to spank you.”

  Her whole body flushed hot. “I’d like that, Sir.”

  He raised a brow at her. “Then don’t expect to sit comfortably through the kids opening their presents tomorrow.”

  Before she could reply, he raised the rubberized mallet and gave it a mighty swing down. His shoulders bunched. His biceps flexed. Light and shadow defined of every muscle of his torso. The head connected with the cap, and the little piece snapped into place.

  The trike was finally finished. He looked at the three-wheeler with satisfaction as Morgan rolled it under the Christmas tree.

  “It’s perfect, Jack,” she told him as she crossed the room to him again. “You’re such a good father.”

  He grunted. “You only think that because yours didn’t stick around and you don’t know the difference.”

  The man had never taken compliments well, and Morgan wanted to smack him. “No, I say that because you’re devoted and caring every moment and you think about them before yourself.”

  He cupped her cheek. “You’ve been my guide, mon amour. You’ve loved our children from the moment they were conceived and done everything to show them they are truly cherished. I often ask myself ‘What would Morgan do?’ That’s how I make my choices.”

  Her heart melted. “You’re going to make me cry. Let’s put together this exersaucer for Lacey.”

  Jack grabbed the box and frowned. “How many pieces does this toy come in?”

  After a lot of grumbling, some eye strain, and the Christmas playlist repeating for the third time, they finally finished the mobile over the top of the standing-bouncy toy.

  Morgan looked at the clock on the mantle. One-fifteen a.m.

  She sighed. Exhaustion weighed down every bone and muscle in her body, mirroring the fatigue on Jack’s face. He’d been working so many hours lately, including a full twelve hours today. Since Oracle, his security business with his buddy Deke, was a man short, he would probably have to head back to work immediately after Christmas dinner. They had an op launching the day after.

  “Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll clean this stuff up and set out a note for Santa.”

  He nodded, then gave her a sly smile. “I’ll be waiting for you in our bedroom with restraints and an itchy palm.”

  Her heart revved. Her belly clenched. She couldn’t stay awake for much right now, but she would never turn down an opportunity to feel Jack’s touch and give him her love in return.

  Morgan sidled close and petted her way from his chest down to his steely cock. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Don’t keep me waiting.” He winked.

  Then he disappeared into their bedroom. A moment later, she heard water pelting the tiled wall of the shower. She imagined him dropping his clothes and stepping in…

  Morgan gathered his tools and began shoving them onto the top shelf again before scooping up the trash and tossing it in the empty boxes. She shut off the fireplace, tidied up. Her breathing wouldn’t slow. Her mind wouldn’t stop fantasizing about all the ways she and Jack could please each other.

  Her phone dinged a moment later. With a frown, she scanned the screen—then smiled. Her half brother and his wife Emberlin had just had a little girl a few days ago. He sent the cutest pictures of baby Ava daily. The precious little girl in her frilly crib, curled up with their sleeping cat, made Morgan grin. Brandon was so proud of his new daughter he all but swelled with it.

  After a few replies, she flipped off all the lights and dimmed the twinkling bulbs on the glittering tree. Drawing in an eager breath, Morgan felt her stomach jump with anticipation and thrill as she pushed the bedroom door open.

  Where she found Jack sprawled out stark naked on his side of their bed, dead asleep, her favorite soft flogger in hand.

  Disappointment washed over her. Concern followed. Jack never gave less than his best and for him to have fallen asleep must be a testament to his exhaustion.

  Or was it a silent proclamation that his passion had cooled for good.

  Morgan slipped into the bathroom and shut the door, climbed into the shower, then indulged in a hard cry. It wasn’t terribly productive, but she needed those ten minutes before the hot water heater gave out.

  As the spray cooled, she brought her pity party to an end and wondered again if she should simply talk to Jack once Christmas was over. If he didn’t miss the sizzle between them the way she did, she would suggest counseling or get a personal trainer—something. Hell, she’d even reduce her role on the set of Turn Me On to lighten Jack’s load around the house and make sure that when he could be here, their time wasn’t consumed with laundry, groceries, and all the unromantic household chores. It would hurt so damn much to turn over the show—her first baby—to someone else.