Page 61 of Her Holiday Arrangement
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.
