Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty (Festive Flames)
Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty: Chapter 11

Stepping through the front door, I slowly close it behind me and lean against it with my keys dangling loosely from my fingers.

What. A. Night.

The auction was a roaring success. We raised so much money that I can barely fathom the final amount, and it’s all thanks to an influx of interest online. I expected to reach a few nearby artist groups, but somehow, we caught the attention of people with real money.

People who paid by instant bank transfer.

I still need to verify each of the payments myself, but that can come later.

And then, in all the excitement and shock at the success of the night, I’d leapt off the stage and into James’s arms, complicating everything with a kiss.

The presence of his lips continues to tingle against my mouth, and I run my fingertips across my lower lip.

It was a good kiss.

A great kiss.

An achingly familiar kiss that never should have happened. I gave in to weakness. We didn’t have much chance to discuss the kiss after the fact because the crowd whisked me away, and by the time we said goodnight, I didn’t want to dive into a complicated conversation.

So we parted ways.

Home feels eerily quiet after the chaos of the auction. Walking into the kitchen, I’m greeted by a bottle of wine and a note from my mother telling me she brought Emma home, and they both will likely be asleep by the time I read this.

I immediately head to Emma’s room. True enough, she’s fast asleep with one arm flung wide, and several stuffed animals have been knocked loose, lying on the floor. I tidy them quietly, kiss Emma’s forehead, and then sneak out before my presence can disturb her.

My mother is fast asleep in the guest room, and affection warms my heart to see the two of them safe and comfortable. As I head to the bathroom, I text my father quickly so he knows I got home safe and that Mom is safe and sound.

With the door acting as a barrier between me and the world, my thoughts quickly loop back around to James.

That kiss—such a small thing, yet I can’t get it out of my head. I replay how he helped me with my dress and how electric his touch was against my skin. Convincing myself that it was just nerves simply didn’t work because he made me feel like this all those years ago.

But then he left. I remind myself of that quickly. He abandoned me, refused to take my calls. He sent his mother to deal with me instead, and the horrible words she used still sting to this day.

But that kiss…

Maybe it’s the alcohol warming my veins or the delight of such a fantastic evening, but everything else just feels like useless noise. I stare at myself in the mirror as I remove my jewelry, and I can almost picture him here with me.

He’d remove my dress with the same tender care he applied when helping me into it. He’d move my hair from my shoulder and kiss my neck, leaving heat flushing through me like a bubbling fountain.

“Stop it, Lily,” I murmur, eyeing my reflection. “You’ve been down this path.”

It was such a good path, though.

Discarding my dress, I step under the powerful jet spray of my shower and close my eyes.

For a few minutes, there’s nothing but the patter of the water bouncing off my skin and the surrounding peach tiles, the gurgle from the drain as the water flows, and the welcoming warmth from the water washing over my shoulders and down my body.

I tip my head forward and allow the pressure spray to work its magic against the back of my neck and down my shoulders. Each drop is like a masseuse’s talented fingers working against the tension in all my muscles.

Then, it becomes James. His hands gripping my shoulders and working his thumb deep into my muscles. The steam from the shower becomes his heated presence behind me, urging me to just lean back and feel the solid press of his muscular chest. The rush of the water catching on the edge of my hair turns into his breath as he waits to whisper sweet things in my ear⁠—

No.

I can’t. Forcing those thoughts away, I turn to face the spray of the shower and hold my breath as a thousand droplets of water pelt me. It’s not enough to push James completely away from my thoughts, but it does let me focus long enough to wash myself the best I can.

Unfortunately, whether it’s from my lack of willpower, tiredness, or the fact that the success of tonight just makes everything else feel easy, James returns to the forefront of my thoughts when I leave the shower.

In my bedroom, with the door closed and the lights down low, he sends me a text. It’s just a simple thank you for attending with him and goodnight with a kiss.

Does that mean something? Is he trying to tell me something or am I looking too far into it?

I spend the next forty minutes applying moisturizers and lotions, then drying my hair on the lowest setting so as not to disturb anyone else in the house. All the while, my thoughts dance back and forth between the appropriate way to text James back.

Should I just say goodnight? Should I thank him too? Do I put a kiss? Will it be weird if I don’t put a kiss? Maybe his kiss was an accident, and he’d hit send before he realized, and then my kiss would be the awkward one. Or if I ignore it, maybe that will be more awkward and will prompt him to bring it up in person?

I feel like a teenager again, trying to navigate a complicated dating scene when it really should be anything but complicated. If he were any other man, I wouldn’t be struggling like this. I would follow up on that kiss with purpose, and I would definitely text him back.

My bed is a welcome comfort after spending hours on my feet, but I’m no closer to a decision about James.

If he were here right now, things would be simpler. I could talk to him, and we could work out what that kiss meant together.

Maybe it meant nothing.

Or it meant everything.

I stare at the ceiling, still feeling the phantom sensation of his mouth against mine. The shower didn’t help, especially since all thoughts of him in there with me, helping me wash, got me more hot and bothered.

Even now, with cool sheets pressing against my warm skin and the allure of sleep on the edge of my mind, I’m still bothered.

Shifting around under the covers, my thighs press together, and a pleasant ache curls through my core. Pushing my face into my pillow, I shove the sensation away and close my eyes.

I need to stop thinking about this and go to sleep.

But fate has different ideas.

Each time I try to force myself to sleep, it lasts only two minutes before my thoughts are back on James. His pretty eyes, his cheeky smile, the softness of his lips, and the way he held me close like I was something so precious.

He tasted the same—a little sweeter, thanks to the flow of alcohol—but he tasted exactly as I remembered.

What if I’d caved into that nostalgic feeling and brought him home?

No, Lily. Stop.

Another restless shuffle around the bed and I try to realign my thoughts with sleep. It works for five minutes.

Then I lose track, and suddenly, James is in my house, pushing me up against the wall and kissing me with purpose. His hands cradle my ribcage, keeping me pinned while our mouths dance together and he steals all the breath from my lungs.

I can still feel the strands of his hair between my fingertips, and I can recall the exact throaty moan he makes when his hair is pulled. I bet it sounds even better now.

Fuck! No!

Frustration builds and my next restless shuffle kicks the covers around and rearranges both of my pillows before I settle. Only this time, I’m tired enough that James eases into my thoughts within a few seconds and I don’t have the energy to force him away.

If he were here right now, right this second, I know what would help me sleep. The warmth of his torso against mine, the sound of his whispers in my ear and the stretch of his cock inside me would solve all my problems.

If he fucked me senseless, I would wake with such clarity that I would know exactly what to do next.

Somehow, my hand ends up in my bedside drawer and I locate my latest toy, a Womanizer. It’s powerful, with vibrations and a delicious gentle suction that mimics the suction of a human mouth. It’s not the same as a real mouth, but in a pinch, it’s amazing.

Maybe that’s how James can make up for all the pain he’s caused. He can spend the rest of his life buried between my legs, making me see stars with that talented tongue of his.

I dip my hand between my thighs and slide my fingers through the slick that’s gathered during my wild, sensual thoughts of James. I tease gently over my sensitive clit, and a punch of pleasure darts through me, making my core clench and my body curl.

Turning on the toy, I roll onto my stomach and press the device against my clit with a soft moan. In my mind, it’s James.

He grips my thighs and holds tightly, keeping me pressed down against the bed and unable to move while he gives me all the attention I deserve. He kisses my pussy, then uses two fingers to gently ease apart my outer lips. When his tongue presses against my inner heat, I lurch and whimper loudly into the cotton fabric of my pillow.

He praises me, tells me I taste divine, and then thrusts his tongue deep inside me with a groan. I rock down against the toy, imagining his tongue fucking into me and licking at my most intimate part. Turning the toy’s power up a notch, James is now paying attention to my clit. The vibrations are his tongue darting back and forth, around and around, then dancing shapes and patterns that I can’t follow.

Each touch feels like the first, and my core throbs in time to my racing heart. Sweat prickles across my skin like little needles, and I have to kick the covers off to stop myself from overheating. Not that it helps. The closer I get to orgasm, the hotter I burn. James tightens his grip on my thighs in my fantasy, forcing me to remain still under his talented mouth and fingers.

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, utterly disoriented, 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 replace 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.”