Page 32 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

The rest of me writhes wildly. I roll onto my back and grind my hips upward against my toy, biting my lower lip to mute my moans. I slide my free hand over my abdomen and up to my breasts, groping and squeezing my nipples through my pajamas.

I come with a cry, turning my head into the pillow and whimpering as pleasure rocks me to my core. My limbs tremble, and heat washes over me in waves. All the while, James in my mind continues to eat me out to the point of exhaustion.

The toy buzzes uselessly beside me, cast aside after the final twitches of my orgasm pass. I wait for my post-orgasm clarity to kick in and give me a glaring answer about what to do about James.

I get nothing, only a continued yearning for him to be with me right now so I can fall asleep in his arms.

Damn it.

I sleep soundly after that, tossed into dreams of James and Emma and the thrilling sensation of blowing past the monetary goal at the auction. I could have slept for another few hours but unfortunately, a little after seven a.m., I’m woken by rapid knocking and a bell ringing at the front door.

Alarm pulses through me like a bullet as I jolt awake with my heart hammering. I burst out in a nervous sweat, utterlydisoriented, and it takes me a few seconds to realize the noise is coming from the front door.

“The hell…?” Yawning widely, I dart from my bed and pull on my house coat as I head out into the hall.

“Lily?” Mom stands in the doorway of the guest room, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on? Are you expecting something?”

“No,” I say. “Can you check on Emma?” Then I hurry down the stairs and reach the door just as another rapid flurry of knocking hits the wood.

“I’m here!” I call. “Give me a second!”

“Where did I leave my keys?” My sleep-addled mind struggles to recall anything from the night before, but after checking the dish by the door, the pockets of my coat, and my bag, I find my keys next to the unopened wine bottle left last night.

Back at the door, I unlock it and jerk it open. Now that I’m more awake, I’m irritated at being woken so rudely.

“Alright! What the hell is your prob?—”

The words die in my throat as I come face to face with two grim-looking police officers.

“Miss Thompson? Lily Thompson?” one asks.

I nod jerkily, gripping the door tightly. “Y–Yes. Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m sorry, but we have some bad news,” says the other officer. “There’s been an incident.”

12

JAMES

Ineed to talk to Lily.

About the kiss. About why I left. About how things stand between us.

Mostly, I just want to see her, and bringing these things up to her risks losing her forever, but it’s a risk I have to take.

I leave the clinic around lunchtime with a promise to bring back a pastry for Margret and head through the town with the bakery as my destination.

The auction last night was an insane success, and all night long I was unable to stop thinking about Lily. How gorgeous she looked on the stage, how beautiful she looked in that dress, and then how amazing she felt in my arms.

I craved more the second that kiss was over, but she was whisked away, and I know I shouldn’t ask for more. I have no right to even want more since I was the one who walked away all those years ago.

But it was the biggest mistake of my life and I can’t let her slip through my fingers. Not for a second time. Maybe there’s nothing between us and we’re destined to be friends. That’s what my heart tells me as I trudge through the light snow dusting the ground.

A biting chill wraps its cold fingers around any glimpse of bare skin, so I tuck my head down into the collar of my coat and shove my hands as deep into my pockets as I can. Back in the city, cold like this was unheard of. Warmth flowed from every building, and all my family’s cars were heated. Even in the depths of winter, cold was an afterthought, more like an aesthetic chased by the millionaires around me who would talk endlessly about a mountain hike in some obscure winter country like it was some kind of achievement.

I’m quickly learning that those people were more pretentious than I could have imagined because regular people dealt with the cold without complaint every day.

I certainly felt like a poor little rich boy the moment the days started to turn cold here, and I still haven’t learned despite the snow covering the ground and the heavy grey clouds above.

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