Before going into my office that morning, I’d given Holly my credit card and iPad and asked her to place a grocery order for delivery. Had she bought out the store of all its holiday decor too?
“Oh, you’re done earlier than I expected,” I hear from the corner of the living room. I turn toward the large bay window and see Holly off to one side, hanging ornaments on a fluffy artificial Balsam fir. The tree is pre-lit, and white lights peek through the branches.
“What are you doing?” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to. It’s not that I’m angry; I’m surprised. Since my mother died over ten years ago, I haven’t even celebrated the holidays, muchless decorated for them. My mom had loved Christmas, and after losing her, the season only brought up bittersweet memories I thought better left buried.
“Um, I’m decorating,” Holly says hesitantly, wringing her hands in front of her. “I opened the wrong door when I went to use the bathroom in the basement and found the storage room. When I saw all the boxes of decorations, I thought it would be a nice surprise. I’m sorry. I overstepped. I’ll get this all put away. I’m sorry.” She’s babbling, and the sight of her so upset at the thought of me being angry with her twists something in my chest. I cross the room quickly and stop her as she starts to pull ornaments off the tree.
“It’s okay, angel,” I tell her. She looks up at me, and the sight of unshed tears in her eyes is like a knife to the heart. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m not angry, I promise. I’m just surprised. I forgot about all the decorations down there; it’s been years since I looked in that storage room and even longer since I decorated for Christmas.”
Now that I’m looking closer, I realize that I recognize most of the things Holly has pulled out of the boxes. Nostalgia settles heavy in my stomach as I reach out with a finger and trace my mother’s favorite ornament, which Holly as hung with care at the front of the tree. Picking up another, I laugh at the picture of me as a toddler crying my heart out as I sit on Santa’s lap. I never had liked that particular tradition.
“You’re sure you aren’t mad? I should have asked your permission first.”
Turning back to Holly, I cup her cheek. “You have blanket permission to do whatever you like here. I want you to feel comfortable, like you’re at home.”Because you are, I think, but I’m not sure she’s ready to hear those words out loud yet, eventhough I’ve already started thinking of this space and everything in it more as ours than mine.
Holly breathes a sigh of relief and rehangs the ornament she’d pulled of the tree. “Do you want to help me?” she asks. Touching the ornament with a picture of me as a child, she adds, “I’d love to hear the stories behind some of these.”
So for the next couple of hours, I help Holly decorate the house as I tell her about my childhood. I was raised by my mom after my father took off when I was only a few weeks old, claiming he couldn’t handle the responsibility of a family. My mom had never remarried or had other children, and she had no living relatives besides me; it was just the two of us. She did the best she could, working hard to make sure I never wanted for anything.
So when my investment business finally became a success, I'd insisted that she let me take care of her for once. Reluctantly, she’d allowed me to pay off her house and buy her a car. She’d refused to retire, but she’d agreed to switch to part-time hours and only one job.
Then she’d gotten sick, and no amount of money or success I earned could save her. I’ve been on my own since then. Sure, I have business partners, some I’d even call friends like Mick. But until Holly, I’ve never wanted to be close to or open up to anyone.
“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Holly says softly, after I finish telling her the story of the time I’d told my mother I wanted to drop out of college to start my business, and instead of being disappointed or angry, she’d agreed to give me one year to turn a profit, and if I wasn’t a success by then, I had to agree to go back to school. That business had failed miserably, and I’dlearned a difficult lesson. My mother had never held it over me, and simply helped me re-apply to universities.
At the time, she’d told me,“You don’t always know what you don’t know. Sometimes, you have to learn lessons the hard way.”
“She was,” I respond. Silence falls between us as we work together to arrange garland and drapery over the wide sill of the bay window, creating a winter scene that’s complimented by the snow that starts to fall outside.
When we’ve finally finished decorating and are sitting at the island enjoying the sugar cookies Holly made, she pulls something out of her pocket.
“Do you have to go back to work?” she asks before showing me what she has.
I smile when I see the unopened Uno deck in her hand—something else I haven’t thought about in years, though my mom had loved the game.
“No,” I lie, thinking of the many meetings still on my schedule for the afternoon. I’ve already missed two, and I’m sure my assistant is blowing up my phone, but I left it in my office. Work can wait. Time with Holly is more important.
She smiles brightly and lets out a little cheer. “I love card games,” she says. “But I should warn you, I’m good at this one.”
“That makes two of us,” I tell her, reaching for the deck and peeling off the shrink wrap.
Twenty minutes into the game, it’s clear Holly is regretting her choice.
“You’re cheating!” Holly shouts as she jumps to her feet. “There’s no way you’re doing this without cheating.”
I can’t help but laugh at her outrage. Who would have guessed that my shy little angel would be so competitive. Fuck, Holly’s only been living with me for four days now, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed like this or been so happy. I have a reputation for being a grumpy bastard, and even I can admit it’s well deserved. But since the moment Holly came into my life, I’ve felt lighter than I can remember ever feeling before.
“It’s not my fault you’re terrible at Uno,” I tease her.
“You’ve played Draw Four cards on your last three turns. I didn’t even know there were that many in the deck! And before that, you made me lose my turn—twice! There is no way you’ve just happened to get those cards. Admit it, you’re cheating.”
Damn, she’s adorable. And sexy. With her hands on her hips, her skin flushed, and her chest rising and falling with her heavy, incensed breaths, she’s a sight to behold, and my cock stiffens as I take her in.
Despite her admission yesterday that she’s ready to go all the way, I’ve been putting it off. I wasn’t sure if her words had been influenced by the afterglow of our orgasms or if she truly meant them. I’d been saved from finishing our conversation by the persistent ringing of my phone and Holly’s subsequent departure for the shower. From the looks I’ve caught her giving me, I know she’s still thinking about what we said to each other and wondering why I haven’t acted on our mutual confessions yet.
To be honest, that’s not the only reason I’m hesitant. I’ve been craving the feel of Holly’s warm pussy clenching around my shaft since the moment we met, but I’ve been holding back.
I might have met—won—Holly through a virginity auction, but she didn’t know at the time that’s what it was. Inside the privacy of my home, Holly is mine. But that doesn’t mean she’ll want tostay once she’s back on her feet. Neither one of us has broached the topic of leaving the cozy bubble we’ve created here, and Holly hasn’t brought up going back to her stepfather’s since our conversation her first morning here.
