Santa, Sam’s Been Bad

That night as Sam tossed and turned in bed, she wondered why Rayden was always in her mind. She walked over to the window and looked out. She didn’t know what made her do it because she had never done that before. She saw Rayden in the light of his porch. He had set up an old punching bag out there and was going at it like there was no tomorrow. She glanced at the clock ,wondering what he was trying to escape, but better yet, she wondered what was his deal about being shirtless all the time. Wrapping a robe around her lingerie clad body, she walked down the stairs and across the yard, “couldn’t sleep?” she called to him and he stopped to face her for just a second before attacking the bag again. “Something like that,” Rayden told her. “Mind if I joined you?” “Only room on the bag for one, but you’re welcome to hang around.” Sam sat down on the step and rested her back against the rail as she watched him. There was something about his body, the way the sweat
shone off it in the dim day break light. His muscles toned and conditioned, moved with each jab or each punch. She smiled and looked away from him. What was she expecting? Rayden watched her from the corner of his eyes. She was staring at him like he was her next meal and that made him hot. “Hey Sam,” he called and for the first time she noticed that the sounds of his fists slamming into the bag had stopped. “Yah?” “What are you wearing underneath that robe?”