Holly Garland on Santa's Lap [COMPLETE]

Bonus Gift ~Part 2~ The neverending day 2

"HOOLLYYYY, NIIICK! Wake up, it's time! You've got fifteen minutes..."

And there it is...

It's Christmas.

Again.

I groan into my pillow. We got to the cabin a little before 8 PM the day before yesterday, celebrated my birthday in full swing, then Christmas Eve. It took everything in me to keep anyone from noticing I wasn't drinking. Turning down wine and champagne in front of the five hawk-eyed women at the table would've been a disaster. So, I did what any reasonable pregnant woman would do in that situation.

I faked it.

During appetizers, I accepted the glass of wine handed to me, chatted while holding it, slipped into the kitchen, and "forgot" it on the counter while pretending to help my sisters-in-law. At dinner? Same strategy. Quick trip to the kitchen for salt, and bam—down the sink it went.

Dessert and champagne, though? That was a tougher act.

I held up my glass, let them pour, toasted with everyone, clinked my flute against theirs, and barely touched my lips to the rim. Then, when no one was looking, I swapped my glass with Nick's empty one. Of course, Debbie the Champagne Maniac topped me off again, so I had to pull the same trick with Jamie sitting on my left.

Oh, Lord... It's only been thirty-three hours since we got here, but it feels like a week. Keeping up these little stunts just to avoid being caught by my sisters-in-law or my mom is exhausting. Their eyes are sharp, always hunting for gossip-worthy details to sink their teeth into. They're like scavengers from the African savannah—part vultures, part hyenas.

I just want to stay hidden under the covers all day and skip this whole crazy Christmas marathon.

But a soft light clicks on in the room, and a large, warm hand has other plans.

"Morning, Gingerbread. Time to get up," Nick whispers, gently rubbing my back to wake me up.

I burrow deeper into my pillow, mumbling protests.

"Come on, little elf... Be brave. We've got presents to hand out!" Nick says, putting on his deep, Santa-like voice.

"No..." I groan, still refusing to lift my head from its cozy cocoon.

Nick's hand slips under the hem of the oversized T-shirt I'm wearing—his T-shirt—and ventures south toward my butt, where he starts to softly stroke.

Unintentionally, I let out tiny murmurs of pleasure.

"What are you doing, Nick?" I mumble, my face still smothered in the pillow.

"I was thinking... maybe I could give you a little special Christmas present, like last year. You know, make it our new tradition? Start this crazy holiday marathon on the right note."

"I love that idea..." I sigh, finally lifting my head from its ostrich hole.

Not just because it's hot, but mostly because it means Nick's imagining a future with me. He's talking about coming back here every year together—and that's what I love most.

Nick chuckles softly against my neck, amused by my answer, before letting his hand slide further down. It finds the edge of my lace thong, where his fingers start teasingly tracing the delicate fabric over my sensitive folds. I purr like a cat as the heat in my core begins to rise. he finally pulls the lace aside, enough for his finger to slip in and see the moisture growing between my thighs.

"Mmm... Looks like you're not as innocent as you seem, Miss Garland. Dreaming of Santa, were you?"

I feel like slapping my hand over his mouth to shut him up or scolding him for his dirty words, but I'm too busy secretly loving it. Still lying on my stomach, I bury my face in my folded arms instead.