The Santa Suit Bet: CHAPTER 3 – The Kiss That Ends Me

One mistletoe challenge. One kiss that goes way too far. And suddenly Eli isn’t pretending anymore — not when Miles kisses like he’s been waiting for it. Not when the snow is falling, the alley is quiet, and neither of them wants to stop.

Chapter Three 

Eli 

The Kiss That Ends Me

Frosty’s is even more crowded than the Roadhouse. Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder. Lights strung across the ceiling like a drunk elf decorated after three shots of peppermint schnapps. The air is hot and loud and thick with the smell of spiked cocoa.

And mistletoe.

A whole garland of it, hung directly over the entryway like a booby trap.

Miles looks up at the cluster, then over at me, and then back at the mistletoe. Slowly. Intentionally. The smile that forms on his face is nothing like the teasing ones from earlier.

No. This one is trouble.

The group behind us pushes forward, forcing us under it before I can react. The bells on my suit jingle like they’re announcing my death.

Someone whistles.

Then another.

Then the whole bar joins in.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

My stomach drops straight through the floor.

Miles steps in front of me, blocking the crowd a little. His hand lands on my waist like it belongs there.

“You good?” he asks.

Absolutely not.

Not even close.

“Fine,” I lie.

He studies me like he can see straight through that. His fingers flex at my waist. My breath stutters.

“Eli,” he says softly.

One word.

Just my name.

But it hits like something I’ve been waiting to hear in exactly that voice.

He lifts his hand, sliding it up my chest, slow and warm, until it rests lightly at the base of my throat. Not squeezing or pushing. Just holding. Feeling. His thumb brushes the edge of the stupid fake beard, and I swear my knees almost give out.

I should tell him no.

I should step back.

I should pretend this isn’t everything I’ve wanted for months.

But he leans in before I can think another useless thought.

And then Miles kisses me.

It’s not soft or polite.

It’s not the kind of kiss you give because a crowd is chanting for it.

It’s full and hungry and confident. His mouth seals over mine with a pressure that steals every bit of air from my lungs. His other hand comes up to cup the side of my face, thumb dragging along my cheekbone as if he’s memorizing the shape of me.

Heat rushes through my whole body so fast I almost sway into him.

The crowd roars. Someone yells “Get it, Santa!” but the noise barely registers over the pounding in my chest.

Miles pulls back just enough to breathe against my mouth. His nose brushes mine. His breaths are warm, uneven, close enough that I can feel the shape of them.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

I nod because words are impossible.

He looks at me like I’m something he just discovered and doesn’t know what to do with yet. Like he’s trying not to show how much he liked that.

Then he kisses me again.

Slower this time. Deeper. His fingers slip under the edge of my beard to get closer, and I swear my brain short circuits.

If the first kiss stunned me, the second one ruins me.

Everything narrows to him. His mouth. His hand on my waist. The way he presses forward just enough that my back hits the wall near the entryway. A soft sound escapes me before I can catch it, and the second I hear it, Miles makes a low noise in response, something quiet and hungry that goes straight to my cock.

I don’t know how long he kisses me.

Long enough that the crowd eventually loses interest.

Long enough that my heart forgets its normal rhythm.

Long enough that I know this isn’t a joke to him.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine, our breaths mixing.

“We should get some air,” he says, voice a little rough.

I nod again. Or maybe I just sway. Hard to tell.

Miles takes my hand. He doesn’t grab or pull; he just takes my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His fingers sliding into mine like he’s done it a thousand times.

He leads me around the side of the building, out the back exit, through a narrow hallway that smells like citrus cleaner and spilled beer, until we push out into the cold night.

The sudden chill slams into my overheated skin, making me gasp. Miles steps in front of me, blocking the wind. Snowflakes catch in his curls, melting instantly.

“Better?” he asks.

I nod again, but it’s shaky.

He watches me quietly, expression shifting from playful confidence to something deeper. His gaze flicks down to my lips again.

He noticed that I’m still shaking.

“It wasn’t just the mistletoe,” he says softly.

My breath catches. “What?”

“I wanted to kiss you.” His voice is steady. Certain. “Long before the crowd started chanting.”

My chest pulls tight. “You’re messing with me.”

He shakes his head. “No. Not even a little.”

I look away, because if I hold his gaze any longer, I might actually melt into the snow.

Miles steps closer. The cold air disappears between us.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to look at me the way you did in there,” he says. “Like you wanted me back.”

I freeze.

The world narrows again.

Snowflakes.

Breath clouds.

Miles, inches away.

“It was just— the mistletoe,” I say weakly.

“No it wasn’t.” His voice softens, but the intensity in his eyes doesn’t. “You kissed me back.”

My heart stops.

He lifts a hand and brushes his thumb along my lower lip, featherlight. I feel it everywhere.

“I liked that,” he murmurs.

I swallow hard. The beard shifts against my throat.

“Miles…” I say, but it comes out small.

He steps even closer, backing me gently toward the brick wall behind the bar. Not pushing. Just moving into my space like he’s checking if I’ll move away.

I don’t.

I can’t.

He stops when my back meets the wall. His hand stays at my jaw, thumb stroking just enough to make my breath hitch. His eyes drag down my face with that same hungry focus from the bar.

“This is the part,” he says quietly, “where you tell me to stop.”

But I don’t want to.

Not even a little.

My voice is barely a whisper. “I can’t.”

His expression shifts. Not with victory or triumph.

But something deeper. Something heated and relieved all at once.

He leans in, breath brushing my mouth.

“Good,” he murmurs.

And just like that, everything in me tips forward, the space between us no longer safe. My whole body pulls toward him before I can stop it, and I know exactly what’s coming next.

Come back tomorrow for Chapter Four

Copyright © by LS Phoenix

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Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

https://linktr.ee/authorlsphoenix

First Edition: December 2025

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