Page 17 of Decking the Halls
“Enough,” their father says.
The tension is so thick it could be carved like the Christmas turkey.
Wren finally withdraws her hand, only to brush her thumb across her lips, a gesture small enough that only Nick—and me—notice. His eyes flash with a warning toward his bratty sister.
“Excuse me,” I say quickly, standing. “I just need to use the restroom.”
“Down the hall, same as always,” Heather says brightly, as if nothing had happened.
I nod, trying to steady my breathing as I walk away, every nerve in my body still alive with Wren’s touch and the knowledge of what just happened.
Once I’m safely in the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, but it doesn’t help. My reflection looks nothing like the woman who walked into this house half an hour ago. My pupils are blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted. My whole outfit is deliriously debauched despite not having a single wrinkle. I look wrecked… byher.
The door clicks open.
Wren slips inside and locks it behind her.
“Someone’s going to notice,” I say.
“They already have.” She closes the space between us until my back hits the counter. “The question is whether you care.”
“I should.”
“But you don’t.” Her hands come down on either side of me, caging me in. “You like it. The danger, huh? You like being wanted so much that I can’t keep my hands off you, even with a house full of people outside that door.”
She’s right, and she knows it. The “bad girl” tendencies of the situation only make it worse… as in better. So much better.
“Tell me to leave,” she says. “Say you don’t want this.”
I can’t. I can only look at her, waiting for her to make the next move.
“Didn’t think so.” One hand tilts up my face. “You’ve been thinking about this, right?”
“Yes,” I confess.
Wren’s smile makes my knees weak. “Good.”
Her fingers trail up my arm until they reach my throat. Nothing more than that. Just enough to remind me who’s in control. Here we are now, with nothing else going on around us.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” she says, mouth hovering over mine. “Watching you tonight, pretending you’re not trembling every time I look at you.”
“Wren…” It comes out as a plea.
“Say what you want.”
“I—” My voice breaks when she leans in, brushing her nose along my skin. “I want you.”
She smirks, and I know I’ve played right into her crazy plan. Her hand slides to my waist, anchoring me. “Then stop pretending this isn’t happening.”
Her lips find mine again, not gentle this time. It’s hungry, deliberate… claiming me. Her mouth opens over mine, and the sound I make isn’t polite for a Christmas party.
I clutch at her shirt, needing something to hold onto as she pushes against me. Everything happens so quickly, you know? She inhales me; I exhale her. Our breaths are becoming one with every passing second, and it’s all I can do to hold myself to her, savoring the moment. There will come a day when I need something to draw me away from the crazy anxieties of life. I’ll think of this moment. Here, in the Halls’ downstairs bathroom, which I’ve used almost every weekend since I was a little kid. Every inch of me feels so alive that it’s like the child in me has never really left. This is a fantasy from that time.
Only I didn’t know it back then. I didn’t realize that the torch I held was for Wren, not her brother.
This whole time…
“Look at you,” she whispers, pulling back just enough to gaze into my half-closed eyes. “Shaking like you’ve never been touched.”
