Page 46 of Holly Ever After

Eighteen

Sean

It’s confirmed. I want to fuck Mrs. Claus’s brains out.

Nineteen

Holly

I'm still sitting on his lap, my arm around his neck, and the tension is thick. I can't help but revel in the discomfort I've caused.

“Seriously, what was that about?” Sean mutters, his voice tinged with an irritation that's almost palpable.

“Just making sure no one else sits on Santa's lap.” I push off him to stand. “You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you? For embarrassing me in front of a stranger?”

“You've never been embarrassed a day in your life,” I shoot back, turning on my heel. “But if you can't handle the heat—”

“Don't even finish that sentence,” he hisses, grabbing my arm as I try to walk away. “You're playing a dangerous game, Holly.”

I yank my arm back. “Then maybe you shouldn't play.”

The tension between us turns electric, a storm waiting to happen. I feel his eyes on me as I sashay back to the dance floor, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of turning around.

Eventually, I've had enough. “I need some air,” I tell Jackie, who nods, too wrapped up in the music to really hear me.

I push through the crowd and stumble out of Molly's, inhaling the icy air deeply. The cold feels good, cutting through the heat and frustration that's been simmering inside me all night.

I'm not alone for long. Footsteps approach, and I don't need to turn around to know who it is.

“What's your problem?” Sean asks, his voice icy as he steps in front of me.

“My problem?” I can't help but laugh. “You've been treating me like a misbehaving child all night. You're my problem!”

“You're acting like one!”

“Oh, fuck you, Sean. Go back inside to Malibu Barbie.”

An incredulous laugh leaves his lips. I don’t even feel the cold air on my skin because I am fuming.

He smirks. “You’re jealous.”

I swear I choke on air.

“Jealous? You think this is about jealousy?” I snap, rolling my eyes dramatically.

“I think it's about a lot of things, but sure, let's go with jealousy for now.”

I cross my arms. “Not everything revolves around you. You've been so damn judgmental and overbearing tonight. Like you're some paragon of maturity. Look at you, dressed as Santa in a bar, and you have the audacity to judge me?”

He leans in closer, his breath fogging up the air between us. “God damn it. You know, for once, can you keep that pretty mouth closed?”

“Make me,” I challenge, rolling my shoulders back.

He scrubs a hand over his face and growls, “You shouldn’t have said that.”

And then, in a beat, he's closing the distance, his hands cupping my face, and his lips are on mine. It's one of those moments when your soul leaves your body just to look back and check if this is really happening. And, oh sweet baby Santa Claus, I'm kissing him back.

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