Page 14 of Daddies’ Holiday Toy (Kissmass Daddies #1)

HOLLY

I’m not lying when I tell them I’m making them the “best damn dinner” they’ve ever had.

It’s my penance for being a secret horn-dog.

The wine I found turns out to be a stellar pairing and a welcomed addition to the meal, even though it had a layer of dust thick enough it made me sneeze a few times brushing it off before I poured everyone a glass.

We go through that bottle fast, and the guys break out their own stash they’ve had stuffed in one of their coolers—whiskey, rum, and something clear with a label I can’t read because it’s in another language but looks strong enough to knock a horse over.

At least the burn is pleasant when it goes down.

Somewhere between the third drink and dessert, I realize I’ve stopped thinking about my mom and the man she’s clearly having some sordid affair with.

And about the fact that she’s apparently hiding it from me.

That ache in my chest is still there, don’t get me wrong, but it’s muted, thankfully softened by the alcohol and laughter moving around the table.

By the time Liam suggests we take the party outside, I’m tipsy enough to think it’s a great idea and follow them out into the cold.

The air hits my body the second we step out, making me shudder, but the guys are quick with setting up the bonfire and moving me close to it. The flames roar to life, crackling and sending sparks spiraling into the snowy night.

I hover close, letting the heat sink into my bones until I’m sitting in a chair unfolded by Liam for me.

Jack hands me a stick and a bag of marshmallows.

“You’re in charge of dessert, Miss Baker.”

I laugh, taking it from him and ripping the bag open. “Tell me you’re not one of those psychos who likes them burnt to a crisp.”

His mouth quirks in the faintest smile, and my stomach flips.

God, I have such a problem that alcohol has clearly only made more obvious.

My eyes dart down to those big hands wrapped in thick gloves and how they’re wrapped around the arms of his foldable chair. What would they feel like wrapped around my throat I wonder…

I skewer a marshmallow, trying not to overthink how the cold is doing nothing to chase away the heat between my thighs.

The puffy coat they gave me works against the wind, and the fire is a warm, temporary distraction, but none of that keeps me from noticing the way they all seem to keep their eyes locked anywhere but directly on me.

That tells me enough.

The conversation drifts to work stuff as I hold Jack’s marshmallow right over the flames and twist it to get it nice and golden brown.

It’s a lot of stuff that blows over my head, contracts and deadlines for whatever high-rise businesses they’re involved in.

Things I can barely pay attention to with how stuffed my head is from both the alcohol and the hormones.

I tune most of it out, focusing on the marshmallow slowly turning golden.

When it’s perfectly gooey, I hand it off to Jack and then jab a fresh one onto the end, repeating the same steps until mine is also perfectly brown.

I pull it off the stick with my teeth, savoring the sugar as I chew slowly.

“Okay,” I say, licking my fingers clean. “Boring work talk is officially banned. Somebody tell me a ghost story.”

Liam chuckles next to me. “A ghost story ?”

“Yes.” I get up and wander over to him, and without thinking—okay, maybe with a little thinking—I plop myself right down on his lap. He jumps a little, startled, but his thighs are solid under me. His hands instinctively land on my waist to keep me in place, nearly making me shiver.

“Please?” I tilt my head back to look up at him, giving my best pout.

Reece leans back in his chair with a smirk. “You know what, I’ve got one.”

I turn right around to face him. “Give it to me.”

It starts simple enough: some old local legend about a hunter who went missing in these very woods, as they always do. But as Reece goes on, his voice dips low, almost hypnotically, making the shadows from the fire dance across his face in a strangely mysterious way.

I lean forward, completely hooked. “And then what happened?”

He describes the search party finding claw marks on the trees only a few miles from here and strange footprints in the snow that don’t match any animal.

Liam’s fingers flex on my waist when I jump at one of Reece’s sudden twists, and holy hell , that sends a pulse of heat rocketing between my thighs.

I’m so tempted to roll my hips and ride his leg like a cat in heat.

Needing some kind of friction before I go actually insane, I wiggle in his lap without meaning to, adjusting myself to get comfortable, but the subtle way his grip tightens tells me he feels it too.

Not to mention the subtle bump perking up right under my ass.

By the time Reece gets to the part where the “monster” is stalking the searchers, I’m fully leaning into it, practically clutching Liam’s forearm for dear life while moving every so often to get that jolt of pleasure.

Right as Reece slams his hand down on the armrest for a jump scare, I yelp and then dissolve into giggles.

“You’re evil,” I accuse him, still laughing.

“That’s the point.” He winks.

The more he talks, the more keyed-up I feel. Not just from the story, but from the fact that every time I squirm in excitement, Liam’s hands hold me just a little bit firmer, keeping me locked in place and going nowhere.

I was horny last night over Jack, and now I’ve added Liam to the mix.

Dangerous.

Absolutely dangerous.

When the story wraps up, Liam shifts under me. “Alright, spookfest is over. Bedtime.”

“Aww, no,” I pout. “I’m not tired.”

“Too bad.” He stands, keeping me in his arms despite Jack’s pointed glare.

I laugh, looping my arms around his neck.

“Fine, but I’m not going down without a fight.”

He carries me in his arms all the way up to the cabin, my boots bumping against his legs with every step.

When we get inside, he sets me down long enough to tug off my wet boots and set them by the door, then he scoops me up again.

When he reaches the guest room, he dumps me unceremoniously onto the bed, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Oops.”

“Rude,” I tease, rolling onto my back and trying to prop myself up on my elbows.

He ignores that, kneeling to tug off my socks.

Then he unzips my puffy jacket, peeling it away, and follows with my hoodie until I’m left in just my sweats, t-shirt, and panties.

His gaze lingers on my body, taking in every inch of me.

My skin prickles under the weight of it and the air between us shifts quickly.

Do I dare push this any farther?

Do I toe the line and see if he takes the bait?

The alcohol swimming in my veins is giving me all sorts of liquid courage.

Not enough to make me completely gone from the world but nudging me just enough to give in to my desires and throw caution to the wind like I’ve been wanting to this entire time.

Leaning back, I hook a thumb under the waistband of my sweats, lifting my hips just slightly.

“Want to help me with the rest?”

His eyes flick from my face to my hips and back again.

His throat bobs, slow enough to make my skin burn.

I can see it, the moment my words register, and the way his jaw tightens.

He flexes his fingers at his sides, like he’s debating whether touching me or not is a good idea.

It isn’t, but we don’t need to dwell on that.

For a long, suspended moment, he doesn’t move.

Then his hands slide forward, bracing on either side of my thighs. His knuckles graze my sweats, barely a touch, but enough to make my pulse spike once again.

“Holly…you’re drunk,” he says, but his voice has turned rough, a gravelly sound he has to force from his chest. It isn’t exactly a warning but more of what sounds like a reminder to himself.

“Tipsy,” I correct, tilting my head at him. “Big difference.”

One corner of his mouth lifts, but it’s not his usual cocky smirk. This one’s filled with much more lust than I’m used to seeing. “You have no idea what kind of line you’re playing with, Holly. Trust me.”

I bite back a smile. “Then maybe you should show me.”

His inhale is sharp, and for a second I’m sure he’s about to cave and close the distance between us.

To my surprise, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my sweats and starts to peel them down.

Slowly, giving me every chance to tell him to stop.

I don’t.

The fabric slides over my hips, my thighs, and down past my knees.

He works them off completely, tossing them aside.

My bare legs stretch out against the comforter, and suddenly I’m achingly aware of how little I’m wearing.

I’m sure from this angle, he can see how soaked my panties are.

His gaze rakes over me, slow passes that make me feel both bold and unbearably exposed all in the same breath.

“Better?” I murmur, my voice coming out softer than I intend.

His throat bobs again when he swallows. “You’re trouble.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

He moves closer, one knee pressing into the mattress beside my hip.

His long fingers feel warm as they settle on my bare thigh.

My skin tingles instantly at the touch, heat spreading upward until my stomach clenches from it.

For one reckless second, I think he might actually lean in and kiss me. His eyes drop to my mouth like he’s considering it, right there on the edge of giving in like I so desperately want him to.

But then he pulls back, absolutely killing me.

With a low curse, Liam stands, grabbing the blanket from the foot of the bed and tossing it over me. “Go to sleep, Holly.”

I blink up at him, still caught in the charged air between us. “Seriously? You’re no fun.”

His laugh is short, almost pained. “Yeah. You have no idea.”

Just like that, he’s gone, walking out of my room before I can push him any further, leaving me lying there with my body still thrumming with a frustration I’m way too keyed up to sleep through.