Page 26 of Naughty-ish

My thighs are a little thicker, but perfect for Santa to slip between. With that thought, I meet my eyes in the mirror, realizing the dullness that had become a too familiar reflection has been polished. My eyes sparkle, shine even. My expression softens.

I’m still alive, still desirable. I’m a gift.

Although Nick might have given me this outfit, wearing it illuminates the light inside me desperate to gleam again.

With a gentler smile at myself, I turn back for the robe, loving the contrast as it is weighty and soft, like a warm hug.

Leaving the front open, I sit on the edge of my bed, then lift the notecard once again while holding the vibrator.

Could I do this? Should I?

At the very least, I should thank Nick for his generosity. That would be the polite thing to do. Just a brief little thank you for your thoughtfulness.

With that as my excuse, I dial his number.

He answers on the second ring. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“It’s not too late?”

“Never.” His breathy response has me closing my eyes, shoring up courage to say what I’m about to say.

“Thank you. Your gifts were . . . generous.”

“I didn’t offend you, did I?”

“No.” My lids spring open, and I stare down at the magic wand I hold in my hand. My core pulses. My legs clench.

“Does everything fit?” The question is innocent enough. A hope that the correct size was purchased. Still, I have no idea how my new toy will feel.

“I’ve only tried two of the three items, but those both fit perfectly.”

Nick hums through the phone. “Should we see how the last item works out for you?”

I don’t answer at first as I fall to my back on the bed and cross my legs, attempting to squelch the throbbing between them until I can get off my phone.

“I’m not sure—”

“I’m glad you called. I forgot to include the instruction manual.”

I giggle, anxious and giddy. “I think I can figure it out.”

“But maybe you need me to interpret the directions. They’re in six different languages.” I hear the smile in his voice. “You can take your pick.”

“Do you know six different languages?”

“No. Only four.”

My brows lift at the playfulness in his voice.

“What am I doing?” I whisper, with my legs crossed tightly, but desperate to be spread and use my new toy.

“You’re letting me instruct you.” His tone turns firmer. The edge sharper, almost commanding, and God, I want him to command me.

“You said you wanted to be a little naughty. I thought I could help you make the list.”

“This is crazy,” I mutter, hardly louder than the squeak of a mouse.

“Holliday.” The determination in his voice has me holding my breath. “Lie back on your bed.”