Chapter 10 #2
Riley sat cross-legged in the armchair across from her, half-swallowed by another blanket, hair a little tousled from the day.
The flickering firelight caught the curve of her cheek, the faint furrow between her brows as she stared into the flames.
She’d been quiet since they returned from the ballroom.
Not withdrawn exactly, but softer, slower in her movements.
Elizabeth knew she should keep the conversation light, compliment her charm with the volunteers, remark on the efficiency of the event, but instead she found herself asking, “Did you enjoy it?”
Riley’s gaze lifted to hers. “The toy drive? Yeah.” She paused, drawing in a breath. “It’s… a good thing. You’re doing a good thing.”
Elizabeth looked down at her cocoa. “I told you earlier. I don’t fund it just for PR.” The words slipped out before she could measure them. “I… need to believe I can do something that matters. Something real.”
Riley didn’t answer right away, but her eyes softened in a way Elizabeth had no defense for.
She shifted in her seat, curling the blanket tighter.
“You did, today. Those kids…” She stopped, as if weighing whether to go on.
Then, with a small shrug, she continued.
“I grew up with nothing. At Christmas, especially, that felt… obvious. Like you could see it in the way other kids got the big gifts, the ones you circled in catalogs. I hated December. I still kind of do.”
Elizabeth kept her expression controlled, but inside, something twisted.
She knew the performance she put on every December—pristine parties, glittering decorations, gifts wrapped like art installations—had nothing to do with love.
“My Christmases were…” She gave a short, humorless laugh.
“Perfect. Or at least that’s how they looked.
The right presents, the right dinner, the right guests.
All of it curated within an inch of its life.
But there wasn’t anything under it.” She glanced back at the fire.
“Hollow. Like if you opened the gift, you’d find nothing inside. ”
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint hiss and pop of the fire.
Elizabeth wasn’t sure when Riley had stood, but suddenly she was beside her, dropping into the empty space on the sofa.
The blanket slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her waist, and Elizabeth felt the shift of heat where their arms brushed.
She didn’t move away.
For a long moment, they sat like that, close enough to feel the shape of each other’s breathing, close enough that the air between them seemed to thicken. Riley turned slightly toward her, the angle of her face open, waiting.
Elizabeth’s eyes dropped to her mouth. A mistake.
She could feel herself leaning in before she’d decided to.
Riley mirrored her movement, tentative, like a question Elizabeth wasn’t ready to answer.
Their knees brushed. The faintest trace of her perfume, warm, almost spiced, drifted toward Elizabeth, tangling with the scent of cocoa.
She was close enough now to see the flecks of gold in Riley’s irises, the way her lips parted, the sharp catch of her breath.
And then,
A knock at the door.
Elizabeth froze.
“Liz?” Her cousin’s voice, pitched with dramatic urgency. “Sorry, I need you. Family thing.”
Elizabeth shut her eyes for half a second before answering, “Give me a moment.”
Riley leaned back first, her expression unreadable in the dim light. Elizabeth stood, setting her cocoa down with deliberate care, smoothing her sweater as though that could erase the last thirty seconds.
When she turned back, Riley had drawn her blanket up again, her gaze fixed on the fire.
Elizabeth hesitated. The right thing, the easy thing, would be to leave without saying anything, to let the moment dissipate like steam.
But something in the way Riley’s shoulders curled in on themselves stopped her.
She crossed the small space between them and bent, pressing her lips to Riley’s forehead. Just a brief touch, but more dangerous than she intended. The kind of touch you don’t give someone unless you mean it. Unless you’re willing to mean it.
Riley’s eyes flicked up at her, startled but not pulling away.
Elizabeth straightened, retreating toward the door before she could think better of it. She told herself the warmth lingering on her mouth was just from the fire. She told herself it was better this way, no mess, no promises she couldn’t keep.
But as she stepped into the hallway, the truth pressed in against her ribs:
She didn’t want to keep her distance anymore.
Not entirely.
The library was hushed, its tall windows fogged faintly from the warmth inside against the December chill. Snow drifted past the glass, each flake catching the glow of the lamplight in the corner. The storm outside muted the world; here, the quiet felt sacred.
The Christmas tree in the corner of this room was smaller, no less beautiful but much less formal. This tree was wrapped in lush garland and adorned with small, almost sentimental, glass ornaments that Riley had admired when she first saw them.
Elizabeth lingered near the doorway, watching Riley curled into the corner of the sofa. Her shoes were off, her legs tucked beneath her, the hem of her dress brushing the cushions. She looked comfortable here, more comfortable than Elizabeth felt in her own family’s estate.
The toy drive still clung to Elizabeth’s mind, a brightness she hadn’t expected.
For once, she hadn’t been performing. Riley had seen her laughing with the children, carrying boxes, even ducking into the kitchen to sneak gingerbread with one of the volunteers.
And Riley had smiled at her the whole time, not like she was the Hale heir who needed to hold herself together, but just… her.
Elizabeth had wanted to keep that smile, so instead of retreating after dinner, she’d brought a bottle of wine into the library. It was an excuse, flimsy and transparent, but she carried it anyway.
Riley looked up when she stepped inside. Her face softened in that way Elizabeth wasn’t used to from anyone, let alone Riley. “Thought you vanished for the night,” she said lightly.
Elizabeth crossed the room and set the wine on the table. “I nearly did.”
Riley tilted her head. “But you didn’t.”
“No,” Elizabeth admitted, sitting beside her. Their shoulders brushed, the contact sparking something in her chest she refused to name. “I didn’t.”
Silence settled, easy and warm, filled only by the faint hiss of the fire. Elizabeth let herself lean back, breathing in the quiet. Riley’s gaze was on her, she could feel it even without looking.
And then she saw it. Above Riley’s head, tied to the lintel of the bay window: a small sprig of mistletoe, half-forgotten amid the decorations.
Her heart stuttered.
Riley followed her glance upward, then laughed softly. “Oh no.”
Elizabeth arched a brow. “Oh no?”
“You’re not seriously about to invoke Christmas tradition on me, are you?” Riley teased, though her cheeks pinkened faintly.
Elizabeth’s mouth curved. “Why not? You’re sitting directly under it. Ignoring it would be… ungracious.”
Riley gave her a look, half challenge, half disbelief. “You don’t strike me as someone who lets tradition dictate your actions.”
Elizabeth leaned in, voice lower, steadier than she felt. “Maybe not. But sometimes tradition provides an excuse.”
Riley’s breath caught. For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside was a blur of snow, the fire a low hum. Elizabeth could hear her own pulse, sharp in her ears, feel the warmth radiating from Riley’s body inches away.
And then she closed the distance.
The kiss was soft at first, careful, like Elizabeth was testing the edges of something fragile. Riley’s lips parted against hers, hesitant only for a heartbeat before she leaned into it, answering with equal softness.
Elizabeth’s hand rose to cup Riley’s cheek, her thumb brushing warm skin. Riley’s fingers gripped the edge of her sweater lightly, as though steadying herself.
When they broke apart, breath mingling in the hush, Elizabeth managed a whisper. “That’s better.”
Riley blinked at her, dazed but smiling, and Elizabeth felt her carefully constructed defenses falter further than they had in years.
Then, the echo of footsteps down the hall. Too close.
Elizabeth stood abruptly, crossing to the door and turning the lock with a quiet click. When she faced Riley again, her composure had returned, but just barely.
“Now no one can interrupt,” she said.
Riley’s eyes widened, the faintest tremor of a smile tugging at her mouth. “That… seems wise.”
Elizabeth crossed back, slower this time, deliberate. She slipped between Riley’s knees where she perched on the sofa, her hands braced lightly on her thighs.
“This doesn’t have to mean anything,” Elizabeth said, though the words tasted wrong, hollow.
Riley tilted her head, gaze steady. “Then why lock the door?”
Elizabeth didn’t answer. She kissed her again instead, harder this time, less caution, more want.
Riley made a small sound in the back of her throat, the kind that seemed to go straight through Elizabeth. Her hands came up instinctively, threading into Elizabeth’s hair, holding her there as though the world might tilt if she let go.
The kiss deepened, hungry and searching, a conversation neither of them had been brave enough to have in words. The taste of wine lingered on their tongues; the faint scent of woodsmoke clung to their skin.
When Elizabeth finally drew back, she was breathing hard, her self-control hanging by a thread. Riley looked up at her, eyes wide, lips parted, the lamplight turning the edges of her hair gold.
Elizabeth brushed her thumb along Riley’s jaw, slow, reverent. “You drive me insane,” she whispered.
Riley smiled faintly, a little unsteady. “You like control too much to admit that.”
“Maybe,” Elizabeth murmured. “But not right now.”
Riley’s palms slid over Elizabeth’s shoulders, down her back, and the simple contact burned through the thin layer of composure Elizabeth still clung to. Every inch of her felt awake, aware, of Riley’s nearness, her warmth, her scent.
They moved together slowly, uncertainly, as if learning a language spoken only between the two of them. Elizabeth’s hands traced the shape of Riley’s spine; Riley’s breath caught as she tilted her face upward again. The next kiss was different, softer, deeper, all the walls lowered.
Time thinned. The world outside the library fell away until there was only the sound of the fire and their mingled breathing. The storm beyond the window pressed white against the glass, but in here, it was all heat and light and the impossible closeness of another heartbeat against her own.
Elizabeth drew back just far enough to look at Riley, really look at her. The flush in her cheeks, the way her lashes trembled, the steadiness in her gaze despite everything. She felt something in her chest shift, terrifying and irrevocable.
“Tell me to stop,” Elizabeth said quietly, even though she wasn’t sure she could.
Riley shook her head. “Don’t you dare.”
Elizabeth exhaled, a sound almost like a laugh but too fragile for joy. She pressed her lips to Riley’s temple, then her cheek, then found her mouth again.
Elizabeth’s fingers wound their way around to Riley’s back, smoothly unzipping her dress.
It slid from Riley’s body, hitting the floor with a whisper.
Goosebumps prickled over Riley’s skin, from chill or anticipation, Elizabeth couldn’t tell.
She grazed her fingernails down Riley’s soft skin, watching as Riley shivered in response.
Once she reached Riley’s breasts, she couldn’t help herself; she took each of them in her hands, gently squeezing and caressing them.
Her rosy nipples were rock hard, waiting for Elizabeth’s touch, she grazed across them with the pads of her fingers, only a whisper of a touch, which drew out a desperate whine from Riley.
Elizabeth looked up to see her head thrown back, spine arched.
Her face was flushed and Elizabeth watched as her chest rose and fell with short needy breaths.
She circled Riley’s nipples, flicking back and forth across the sensitive nubs, each time a moan or a gasp came, it sent a spike of want right through Elizabeth.
She bent down and captured one in her mouth causing Riley to cry out with pleasure.
Sucking it between her lips she flicked over it with her tongue, copying the motions with her other hand.
Pulling back, Elizabeth gently pushed Riley back onto the sofa and crawled up after her, aligning herself above her.
Elizabeth trailed her hand south, stroking the soft skin over Riley’s stomach and thighs, smiling as she watched Riley open her thighs the closer her hand moved to where Riley wanted it most. Riley was soaking wet by the time Elizabeth’s fingers slid between her folds.
She looked back up at Riley to see her eyes were completely glazed over with desire.
Riley’s pussy was slick and Elizabeth’s fingers glided their way between them, stopping to gently stroke over her clit, savoring the low moans it drew. As she stroked over the little bundle of nerves, she could feel as it swelled, as Riley came ever closer to the edge.
Elizabeth could see she was filling with tension.
She sped up slightly again, her thumb flicking back and forth trying to bring Riley over the edge; finally, Riley let out a deep moan and a shudder wracked through her entire body, the aftershocks following as she continued to shake with her release.
Once she had regained her breath, she yanked Elizabeth down beside her.
Elizabeth lay still, Riley’s head against her shoulder, their hands intertwined. For the first time in a very long time, she didn’t feel cold.