Chapter 22 Holly
HOLLY
Sometimes I think I have everything figured out. Then my car windshield fogs up, and I have to push every button to figure out how to get it to defog.
‘Tis the season.
—Holly’s Secret Thoughts
The house is silent.
Too silent.
Sophie’s finally down for the night, her soft little snores crackling through the baby monitor on the table.
The Christmas tree glows in the corner of the room, lights twinkling in rhythm with the falling snow outside.
And the scent of cinnamon still lingers inside from the cocoa I made two hours ago that sits untouched in my hands.
Every time I close my eyes, I see him.
The flash of his smile under the mistletoe. The weight of his hand at my back. The look in his eyes right before he kissed me, like he was about to step off a cliff and daring me to take his hand and jump with him.
It was a photo op.
A crowd pleaser.
It wasn’t supposed to be real . . . So why do my lips still tingle like I’ve been branded? Claimed?
I look down at the now-cold cocoa and wonder if adding a shot of whiskey to it might help me sleep or maybe just help me forget, when I hear it. The soft creak of the floorboards. For a professional athlete, Camden’s certainly not light on his feet.
My heart slams against my ribs as I turn and find him standing behind me, so similar to that night after the game . . . the one that started all this. Barefoot in black sleep pants and a white T-shirt that clings to every hard line of his chest. He makes my mouth water.
“I was looking for you,” he murmurs.
My throat tightens as I put the cold cocoa down and stand, wanting to feel like I’m on equal footing. Like that’s going to help or something. “You found me.”
“Sophie’s asleep.” He crosses the room slowly, each step measured and deliberate.
The air between us hums with electricity, and my pulse sparks as he stops barely a step away. His body crowding mine until the family room feels smaller and hotter because now he’s here.
His eyes search mine, but I’m not sure what they’re looking for . . .
Permission?
Forgiveness?
“The tree lighting was nice,” I manage to force passed my lips breathlessly as my heart races in my chest. “Rosie seemed to love it. Sophie too.”
“Yeah . . .” He reaches up and gently moves a lock of my hair behind my shoulder, sending a shiver skirting down my spine. “The kids. The fans . . . You.”
“Me?” I smile, a denial right there on the tip of my tongue, but it would be a lie.
Camden steps impossibly closer, his gaze dropping to my mouth and heating like molten hot lava. “You looked happy, Holly. Like there was nowhere else you’d rather be.”
“I like Christmas.” I laugh softly as my nerves get tangled up with want and need. “It’s kind of my thing.”
“I know.” He smiles, his words reaching out like a soft caress as he takes one more step closer.
“As if all the decorating and your own personal style weren’t enough, Luke told me you’re a Christmas Eve baby.
Mistletoe is in your veins.” He looks up at the sprig I have hanging in the doorway and swallows.
“You make that sound like a flaw,” I tease, testing the waters.
“No.” His voice drops to a beautifully low tenor. “It’s one of the things I—” He stops, his jaw clenching as indecision wars behind his eyes. “Never mind.”
“Camden . . .” I whisper, unsure what to say.
He brushes the backs of his knuckles along my cheek, and my breath catches in my throat. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Trying to,” I admit softly, barely above a whisper. “But you’re hard to avoid.”
One dimple pops in his cheek.
“I’m your nanny, Camden. That makes you—”
“Completely out of my fucking mind?” He leans in close enough for his warm breath to fan my face. “In case you weren’t sure.”
My heart hammers a staccato beat. “This is dangerous.”
He nods slowly, dark-green eyes blown wide with want. “Then why can’t I walk away?”
Before I can answer, his fingers slide under my chin, tilting my face up to his.
The world around me narrows to a single pinpoint until all I can see is him.
His eyes on my face. His mouth inches from mine.
“Tell me to stop, vixen,” Camden growls.
“Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll never ask again. ”
I should tell him no. That he needs to stop. That I need space.
But I don’t.
Because that’s a lie.
I don’t want him to stop, even if I wish I did.
I drop my forehead to his chest and fist my fingers in his soft cotton tee. “We’re a really bad idea, Camden.”
Camden wraps my hair around his fist and tugs my head back. “Pretty sure we’re the best decision I’ve ever made, Holly.”
He lifts me from my feet, and I wrap my arms around him as Camden spins, pressing me against the cool floor-to-ceiling window looking out over the backyard and creek. His hands frame my face, and I melt under their touch. “Fuck, Holly. Last chance. Tell me to stop or tell me you’re with me.”
I lean into him, as the last of my willpower spontaneously evaporates. “Don’t you dare stop.”
Camden’s mouth is right there. His lips hovering over mine. Indecision is locked behind his eyes, soft and strong and so damn tempting. “I’m with you.”
His eyes close for a hot second, and when they open, white-hot heat is dancing in the depths of those green eyes. Hunger courses through my veins as a sharp, sweet bolt of lust hits me hard and deep before his mouth finally claims mine.
This time it’s just us.
This time there’s no one else.
His tongue licks into my mouth, and I moan as electricity sizzles like a live wire dancing between us. Our tongues dance a delicious dance, tasting and teasing and turning my world upside down until it’s only him and me and nothing else matters.
I dig my nails into his hot skin and shift my hips, desperate for relief.
For friction.
For him.
“Patience, little vixen,” he growls as he nips my bottom lip and spins me so my back is to him and my palms press against the glass. His hot voice washes over my cool skin, and a rush of goosebumps break out everywhere.
His arm wraps around my waist, slipping under my shirt, anchoring me to him as his chest presses against my back, his big body dwarfing mine. And maybe I should feel small or scared, but I don’t. I feel safe. Protected. Wanted.
“You’re fucking beautiful in the moonlight, Holly,” he whispers against my ear, and another shiver shakes me. “So pretty against the snowy night.”
One big, calloused hand slides possessively over my hip and down my gray and white flannel boxer shorts until he’s teasing the soft skin along my thigh.
Anticipation tingles through every inch of my overheated body as my breath catches in my throat, and I stare at our reflection in the window.
I drop my head back against his shoulder as his fingers make their first pass under my shorts.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me in these damn shorts and socks, Holly? ”
“No,” is a strangled gasp falling from my lips as that same finger moves higher, teasing me, but still not touching me where I wish he would.
“Fuck, baby. I’ve been going insane since the first damn night you spent in this house. Dreaming about your body. Your smile. The sounds you’re going to make when you come . . .”
“Camden,” I whimper as my body trembles under his touch. So desperate for him that I’m shaking as the tips of his fingers slide along the silk of my panties. His tongue drags down my neck, and I close my eyes and lean all my weight against him with my knees threatening to buckle.
“Open your eyes and watch us, Holly. Watch what I’m going to do to you.”
Oh hell . . .
Those words.
This man.
My eyes fly open and catch his in our reflection as Camden pushes his fingers under my panties and drags them up the length of my sex. “Fucking drenched for me, vixen.”
His big body engulfs mine, and I want to see more.
To touch more.
I turn back around slowly and smile up at him.
My hands slide under his shirt as he pushes me back against the window and drops to his knees.
“Still my turn,” he growls as he drags his hands over my hips and down my thighs, taking my shorts with them.
Camden throws one leg over his shoulder and grins a wicked grin.
“Eyes on me or this stops, vixen. The fucking fantasies I’ve had with you and these socks—”
Camden buries his face in the silk of my panties, licking a line along the delicate fabric as he grips it in each hand and rips it from my hips.
Oh God.
An ache like I’ve never known builds deep inside as he licks and bites and sucks .
. . He builds me up over and over until I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing.
I just know him and this moment, somehow frozen in snowy time.
Until I’m desperate and needier than I’ve ever been before.
Until I’m on the verge— My orgasm builds behind my eyes, threatening to blind me until Camden pulls me against his face, sucking my clit as he curls two fingers deep inside.
I tremble with each stroke.
Teetering as he sucks my clit harder.
“Been dreaming about the taste of your cunt,” he growls against me, and oh God, I cry out, and Camden looks up at me, his lips soaked from me. “Gotta be quiet, vixen.”
I bury my fingers in his hair and bite down on my lip, and what does this man do?
He fucking growls against my pussy and drags his teeth over my clit, sending shockwaves through my core until I shake and shatter into a million pieces, clinging to Camden.
And that’s when Sophie cries.