Page 26 of Holly Ever After

A nod from her is all I get, and I exit the house, locking the door behind me.

∞∞∞

I pull up to Holly’s cottage, gravel crunching under my truck tires. I told her I wouldn't be by until later, but the guys have the workshop and other jobs covered, and I find myself with some free time. Her car is in the driveway, so I know she's home.

I knock, listen, but no answer. I turn the doorknob and push the door open. As it swings ajar, the strident sounds ofLast ChristmasbyWham!blare from a Bluetooth speaker somewhere inside.

“Holly?” I call out.

Nothing.

Then she appears, shimmying out of her room, completely engrossed in her own world, belting out the lyrics. She's dressed in just her underwear, her hair up in a towel.

I freeze.

My mind stumbles for a second, unsure of where to look or what to do. She's... energetic, uninhibited, and completely unaware of my presence.

It’s only a split second. It should be too little for me to notice, but I do. I notice when her eyes open, they lock with mine. Her chest rises and falls which is doing very little to distract me from the swell of her breasts inside the lace of her bra. Her skin is like ivory, except for the peek of her nipples through the material.

I should stop staring. I’m practically devouring her from where I stand, but I can’t. I can’t stop my eyes from drinking her in. The curve of her hips. The legs that are fucking criminal to hide under all the winter clothes she’s been wearing since she’s been back.

She's all exposed skin and vulnerability, and something tightens in my chest. Holly was always pretty, beautiful even. That type of beauty you look twice at because you can’t believe you’ve seen it the first time. But seeing her like this—unfiltered, unprepared, radiant in her own space—flips a switch in me.

My gaze darts back to hers, and I watch the hot flush creeping to her cheeks.

It takes three seconds for all color to drain from her body.

Her eyes go wide, her mouth opens in a soundlessO, and she lets out a scream that has birds flying out of the trees surrounding this cottage. In a scramble, she grabs the towel from her head and clutches it to her chest.

“Sean, what are you doing here?”

Instead of apologizing, I can't help but let a smirk cross my face. Maybe it's the ludicrousness of the situation, or maybe it's the unexpected tension filling the room. Either way, I lean against the wall and cross my arms over my chest, eyes unabashedly sweeping over her.

“Look at you, Squirt,” I drawl. “Do you always parade around in lingerie when you have guests?”

“This… this isn’t lingerie, and this is my home.” Her eyes flash with fire. “I don't expect people to just walk in.”

“And yet, you're still standing here half-naked,” I point out.

That seems to hit just the right button. She's more angry now than embarrassed, I can tell. It's reckless, but I admire the hell out of her when she drops the towel entirely and mirrors my stance, leaning against her bedroom door in nothing but her underwear. It's a standoff, laced with a heat that neither of us can completely ignore.

I clench my jaw, feeling my spine go ramrod straight because the only thought entering my mind is how I want to fuck that attitude right out of her.

“What's your excuse, then? You’re still staring.”

“More like checking if you've grown up,” I shoot back. “Clearly, you have, at least physically.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Nervous, Colson?”

“Me? Never.”

I take a step toward her.

She doesn't back away.

If anything, her brow arches higher, a silent dare. Another step, and another, until I'm towering over her, close enough to hear her uneven breaths. Something has shifted. I feel it. We're not playing anymore.

My hand reaches out almost of its own accord, curling fingers under her chin to tip her head back. Her eyes lock onto mine, wide and challenging. I use my other hand to move the wet strands of her black hair away from her shoulders.

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