Page 51 of Her Holiday Arrangement
At that, Riley started bucking, her climax ripping through her violently. Elizabeth kept holding her, kept stroking, kept whispering in her ear as tremor after tremor swept over Riley’s body. Finally, the shaking stopped, and Riley gazed up at Elizabeth.
“What the fuck was that?”
“Was that not what you wanted?” Elizabeth smirked.
“No, I-I—not what I meant. I’m not sure how I’ll match that, though.”
“I’m sure you’ll give it your best.” Elizabeth teased, sitting beside her on the bed. “Now, on your knees.”
9
December 20th - Riley
The first thing Riley noticed when she stirred awake was the cold.
Not the weather, though the draft curling in through the edges of the old windowpanes hinted at the snowstorm still raging outside, but thespacebeside her. Cold. Empty.
Elizabeth was gone.
Riley blinked against the early morning light filtering through the frost-laced glass, her throat dry and tight. She reached out instinctively to the other side of the bed, palm brushing against the cooled indentation where Elizabeth had been. The sheets were still faintly rumpled, still carried the ghost of warmth, but she was gone.
No note. No goodbye. Just the quiet absence of her.
The second thing she noticed was the tea.
A half-drunk mug sat on the nightstand, pale traces of Earl Grey clinging to the white porcelain. Steam long vanished. Next to it, one of Elizabeth’s earrings, a delicate diamond stud, glimmered faintly in the soft light. A pair of black stilettos laynear the bedroom door, carelessly abandoned in a way that was entirely unlike her.
Riley stared at them.
It wasn’t carelessness. It was avoidance. Elizabeth had left in a hurry, not wanting to face the aftermath of last night.
Not wanting to faceher.
She lay back down, staring up at the heavy wooden beams above, the red-and-green patchwork quilt tucked around her like a weight. The same quilt they’d shared every night this week. The same bed that had begun to feel dangerously, foolishly liketheirs.
Snow had started falling again. Big, thick flakes blurred the world outside the window, blanketing the gardens and glass roof of the conservatory. Riley watched them fall in silence.
And remembered.
The night before. The ballroom glowing with gold and candlelight, Elizabeth radiant in deep black velvet, her hair pinned up like something out of a classic film. The way she had smiled for the cameras, fingers tight on Riley’s waist. The way she’dlookedat her across the champagne flutes and charity auction tables.
But it had all begun to crack as the evening wore on. The warmth in Elizabeth’s eyes dimming. Her answers growing shorter. Her laughter more forced. Riley had tried to brush it off, told herself it was just stress, just the role they were playing.
Then came the confrontation under the Christmas lights. The bitter cold. Elizabeth’s voice like glass, each word sharp-edged and distant.
“It was a lapse in judgment.”
Her cheeks flushed with the memory of how furious she’d felt, howstupid.Standing there in borrowed heels and a borrowed coat, heart wide open while Elizabeth locked hers behind iron doors.
But then, what of the passion? They had clung to one another back in the room, almost desperate in their lovemaking.
Was any of it real?
Or had she just been convenient, someone to fill the space, play the part, warm the bed?
Riley sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress. Her feet hit the cold wooden floor, and she winced at the bite of it. The chill seemed to echo the way her chest felt, hollowed out, exposed.
She pulled one of Elizabeth’s discarded sweaters off the back of a chair, tugging it over her head. It was soft and oversized, smelling faintly of cedar and Elizabeth’s perfume.
