We Wish You A Naughty Christmas: A Christmas Collection

by Skye Warren

  This holiday event that’s brought Kayne and me back to New York has been a year in the making. My mother and sister planning tirelessly to bring Tara’s dream winter wedding to life. It's only the rehearsal dinner, and it's already pretty spectacular. Christmas cheer is practically spilling out of every peppermint martini, and an abundance of love is twinkling in every tiny light.

  Sometimes, I barely recognize the woman Tara has become. A beautiful, confident starlet on Broadway going after every single one of her dreams. And after everything she’s been through — almost losing her life — no one deserves to be happy more than she does. CJ definitely delivers on that front. I don't think either of them have stopped smiling since they got engaged. Of course, when two people are made for each other, it shouldn't be any other way.

  The tall, dark, and handsome jester who stole my sister’s heart is also one of my husband’s best friends. A man he counted on for years to help keep him alive.

  I excuse myself from the pleasant conversation with CJ’s parents, who have sold me in less than ten minutes that they are two of the loveliest people on the planet. It is abundantly clear where CJ gets his underlying refinement and charisma.

  Kayne’s face lights up when he catches me ambling in his direction, snaking my way around the happy couple as they converse with CJ’s two younger sisters. I swear, Tara gets along with them better than she does with me. And that doesn't bother me at all. Not one bit.

  I mirror Kayne’s expression as we make eye contact. Damn that man and his galvanizing effect. I will always be the moth, and he will always be the flame.

  “Two ex-secretive operatives plotting in the corner can never be good,” I whisper as I snuggle up against Kayne.

  “That all depends,” Jett offers.

  “On what?” I question flirtatiously.

  “What exactly we’re planning.” His aqua eyes flash with mischief.

  “I can only imagine.”

  “I'm sure you could.” Kayne wraps a strong arm around my waist and squeezes suggestively. “Since Jett and London have a twenty-four-hour babysitter, we were thinking some adult time is in order.” Kayne lets me in on their super-secret plan.

  “Did you now?” I tease salaciously. “I don't have any objections.”

  “We didn't think you would,” Kayne rasps seductively in my ear, and a shiver of desire runs down my spine and tickles my tailbone.

  “Adult time” is a serious code word and a total turn-on. It means four times the pleasure and four times the fun.

  I order one more peppermint martini before the night winds down, watching as Tara and CJ work the room, enchanting everyone with their joy. Tara donned in a white, form-fitting, one shoulder mini dress, the loose curls of her long platinum hair bouncing as laughs. Seeing her so happy brings me joy. Seeing the devotion on CJ’s face every time he looks at her brings me peace. I know no one will love her like he does. No one will protect her or fight for her or stand up for her like he will. I know this because he and my husband share a bond. He, Jett, and Kayne are three parts of the same entity, linked by loyalty.

  They may wear suits, but they can be savage. It's reassuring to know she’s safe. Reassuring to know that all three of us—Tara, London and me—are safe from the demons of our past.

  A clinking sound draws our attention to the center of the room, where Cara and Camille, CJ’s two younger sisters, are standing. They both have long brown hair the color of Samantha's, their mother, and big chocolate eyes like CJ. They’re adorable, honestly, bubbly and cute in their sparkly dresses and way-too-high heels.

  “Excuse us,” Camille announces as she taps her champagne glass, “Cara and I just wanted to say a few words.” I zero in on CJ, latched on to Tara, trying to mask his worried smile. This should be good.

  “For those of you who don't know us, we’re Camille and Cara, CJ’s sisters.” Camille grins as Cara unfolds a piece of paper. They huddle together, beaming away as Camille begins to read.

  “CJ,

  You didn't always make it easy being your baby sisters. Sometimes it seemed like you lived to terrorize us, from hiding under our beds and grabbing our ankles in the dark, to beheading our Barbies, to putting plastic spiders in our cereal.” Camille pauses as the small crowd laughs. “But there were also those moments when you were the best big brother around. Like when you taught Cara how to ride a two-wheeler when she was five and helped me fix my LeapPad when I thought I broke it. If mom found out, she would have killed me ‘cause she constantly told me to stop swinging it around. Then, one day, you left.” Her voice softens. “Enlisted in the army, you were no longer the entertainment in the house. You were the one always smiling and joking and laughing, turning bad days into the best.” Camille smiles wistfully. “For a long time, things were quiet in the house. Normal. We missed your larger than life presence and your easy-going personality. We missed our big brother.” Camille looks directly at CJ, and we all feel her sentiment. “Then two Christmases ago, you came home unexpectedly, with a girl.” Camille hands the paper to Cara who resumes reading. “She was beautiful and sweet and sassy, and we adored her right away. She was definitely too good for you.” Cara glances up at CJ and snickers. “But it was evident to all of us that night, Tara was someone special. Mom and Dad can attest. You and Tara were the topic of conversation long after you left. We didn't know when we would see you again. Or if we would ever see Tara again. But we all hoped. For the first time in a long time, Christmas felt like it used to. It felt magical.” Cara’s eyes water as she continues to read. I think everyone else's in the room do too. “We had our big brother back plus a woman who complemented him perfectly. Then we received a phone call that answered our family's prayers. You were staying. For good.” Cara emits a joyous little sob. Camille puts her arm around her sister as she continues reading. “We are beyond grateful and happy we have you back in our lives. But we’re even more excited to be gaining an amazing sister!” Camille and Cara bounce giddily in their six-inch heels before they rush Tara, hugging her excitedly. It's crystal clear who the VIP in that relationship is. Tara really has made quite the impression. Maybe it's because she's closer in age to Camille and Cara than she is to CJ. The ten-year age difference doesn't seem to be much of a hurdle for them anymore, but it does bug the hell out of our dad.

  “How young are CJ’s sisters?” London asks as she slides up against Jett, the four of us watching Camille and Cara fangirl over Tara.

  “I’m not sure exactly, but I know barely old enough to drink. Richard, their father, is Samantha’s second husband.”

  “Ah.” London nods in understanding.

  “Yeah, CJ was like twelve when Camille was born,” Kayne adds.

  “That's quite the age gap.” London’s sparkly blue eyes widen.

  “CJ doesn't seem to have any issues with age gaps,” Kayne mocks.

  I smack him in the stomach. “Will you give it a rest already? You’re as bad as my father.”

  Kayne laughs as he rubs his abdomen. “I can't help it. Cradle robbing jokes are just too easy. And it's Juice!”

  Like that response is supposed to mean something to me.

  “That’s your future brother-in-law you’re poking fun at,” I give him shit.

  “Yes, I know,” he relents, tilting my chin up and pressing a soft, apologetic kiss on my lips.

  “Are you trying to butter me up for something, Mr. Stevens?” I toy with him. “You’re being way too agreeable.”

  “Maybe.” Kayne smiles enticingly.

  “I’ve learned never to trust you when you look at me like that,” I murmur as he pulls me closer.

  “You’re too intuitive for your own good.” Kayne nibbles the skin right below my white satin choker, causing me to giggle.

  “There are hotel rooms for that, you know.” The sarcasm in Tara’s tone is palpable. Kayne and I break apart, both grinning like idiots. There is definitely some kind of hypnotic, Christmas magic buzzing in the air.

  “Done signing
autographs already?” Kayne’s snark has apparently rubbed off on me.

  Tara rolls her eyes. “Jealous of all the attention I'm getting?”

  “Not at all,” I scoff. “CJ, maybe.” He’s staring her down from across the room like a lion ready to pounce while trapped talking to my parents and his sisters. What a combo that is!

  “He’s fine.” Tara waves him off trivially. “Dad hasn't given him shit in a while. I think he’s looking for one last opening to threaten his life. It’s sort of endearing now.” Tara glances back at CJ with a remorseless grin. Despite his discomfort, CJ looks dapper in his dark blue suit and wavy, finger-combed hair.

  “I can give Juice some added bullshit if you like it so much,” Kayne adds a little too eagerly. I elbow him. Why can't everyone just leave poor CJ alone?

  “Whatever floats your boat,” Tara encourages Kayne. Worst possible thing ever.

  “You will leave CJ alone. Tomorrow is his wedding. He’s under enough stress.”

  Kayne broods like only he can. My tall, broad, complicated husband can be a pillar of menace, but he’s nothing but a playful pussycat at the moment. “Fine.”

  I smile triumphantly.

  “Ellie, you’re good with the itinerary tomorrow? I just want to check one last time,” Tara asks a tad anxiously. If anyone is stressed, it's her. She’s asked me about this stupid itinerary three times.

  “Yes. Mani/pedis first thing in the morning, brunch with your future mother- and sisters-in-law, then hair and makeup. Pictures right before a ride in a limo and a trip down the aisle,” I repeat dryly.

  Tara shoots me that blank sisterly stare. She doesn't find my sarcasm the least bit amusing. Was I this rigid on my wedding day?

  “That sounds like a packed schedule,” Kayne comments. “I'll make sure to keep Ellie up way too late.”

  “Don't you dare.” Tara pokes him in the chest. “She can't have bags under her eyes in my wedding pictures. You have to make her go straight to bed.”

  Kayne, Jett, London, and I all snicker at Tara’s order. I'm going straight to bed all right. I just won't be sleeping, and I definitely won't be by myself.

  “What’s so funny?” CJ joins the conversation, slipping his arm around his fluttery fiancé. Together, they make one striking couple.

  “Your future wife was trying to tell me what to do. With my wife.” Kayne speeds CJ up.

  “And what exactly did she tell you to do with her?”

  “Take her to bed.” Kayne smiles obnoxiously.

  CJ eyes Tara.

  “What? I don't want her to have dark circles in our wedding pictures,” Tara tries to defend herself.

  “Of course.” CJ kisses her blonde head, placating her. Poor Tara has no idea she’s the butt of one sexually explicit joke. CJ knows all about Kayne and Jett’s sordid past and about our close, private relations.

  “I promise I'll go straight to bed.” That promise may have loopholes, but it's still a promise.

  “Thank you.” She hugs me. Tightly. My sister is seriously starting to feel the pressure.

  “Go take a long, hot bath and relax,” I advise her. “You don't want dark circles, either.”

  “No, I definitely don’t.” She laughs tensely.

  “I think I can help ease some of her anxiety.” CJ rubs Tara's shoulders suggestively.

  “No!” Tara spins on her heel. “You are going to your hotel room, and I am going to mine,” she stipulates. “No seeing the bride before the wedding.”

  CJ pulls out his pocket watch and checks the time. “It’s only ten thirty. That’s plenty of time to relax you before midnight.” He pops his eyebrows at her.

  Men and their one-track minds.

  “You have till eleven fifty-nine, then you’re out, Carmichael.” Tara nearly pokes his eye out with her fingernail.

  “Oh, I love it when you’re feisty, shortcake.” CJ grabs her index finger and bites the tip.

  “Who needs a room now?” Kayne tosses out drolly.

  “All of us, apparently,” Jett chimes in as he runs his hand along London’s side. Her clingy black dress accentuates every sexy curve of her body. It's almost unfathomable she’s given birth to two children.

  “So what are we waiting for?” Kayne sets the wheels in motion.

  “Not a damn thing,” CJ rolls right along.

  After a few more hugs from Tara, some kisses from my father and mother, and more pleasantries from CJ’s family, Kayne, Jett, London, and I finally escape into an awaiting limo parked in front of the rehearsal dinner restaurant.

  “Did they go down okay?” London asks, checking on Layla and Beckett, who are with the nanny back at the hotel. The emotion on her face is priceless. She loves those children more than air or water or her own life. Her past is the darkest of all. More so than mine and Tara’s combined. She’s only shared a few stories with me on occasion, and they were enough to give me nightmares for a month. I don't know how she survived it, the years of trauma, but she always says something kept her going. Kept her pressing on, and she swears that even though she didn't know what it was at the time, she knows now it was Jett and those two beautiful babies. She was meant to be their mother, and she’s a fantastic one. Glad I have a role model to look up to if Kayne and I ever get the chance to have children. We’ve been trying, but no such luck...yet.

  I listen with a small ounce of jealously as London reminds Malia to put extra diaper rash cream on Beckett’s butt and make sure Layla has her stuffed unicorn in bed. If she wakes up and it's not there, she’ll get scared. I sneak a look at my husband sitting across the limo next to Jett. He, too, is listening to London intently. We both want what they have. Badly.

  “We’re on our way back but may not get back to the room till morning,” she tells the nanny as she slides her hand across the leather and links her pinky finger with mine. We share the same heated look. It's few and far between Jett and London get any adult time, so we all know we must take advantage of the night.

  She ends the call and then tosses the phone back into her purse.

  The snap barely clicks before Jett says, “Are pinky promises all we’re going to get?”

  Someone is eager, although I should expect nothing less from either man. Especially when London and I are wearing short skirts and high heels.

  “I don't know. Do you deserve anything more?” London toys with him.

  “It has nothing to do with what we deserve. It's all about what we want. And what we want, we get. Regardless of good or bad behavior.” Kayne sets the record straight, his dominance flaring. My skin prickles from just his smoldering blue stare and authoritative tone. God that man. My man.

  “Well, what exactly do you want?” I ask, fueling the fire.

  Both Kayne and Jett shift in their seat readily.

  “What everyone wants for Christmas—to unwrap beautiful presents and feast with friends.” The sexual suggestiveness in Jett’s statement isn't lost on any of us.

  “Are you on the naughty or nice list?” London inquires as she runs her plum fingernail up the inside of my thigh. I play along, spreading my legs.

  “Definitely the naughty list,” Jett states proudly.

  “Naughty boys don't get to play.” London’s hand disappears under the hem of my skirt, and I bite my lip as her fingers skim over the scrap of satin that is my thong.

  “Oh, yes, they do. Fuck what Santa says. Bad boys are way more fun.” Kayne’s attention is trained solely between my knees. The lust in his majestic blue eyes is as haunting as the ghost of Christmas past.

  “What’s on your wish list?” I part my legs wider, my mini skirt hiking up higher, giving Kayne and Jett a bird’s eye view of London stroking my pussy.

  “You. Both of you, naked and moaning,” Kayne doesn't hesitate with his answer. “Begging us to let you come. Pleading, trading, bartering desperately to let you feel that sweet rush of pleasure only we can allow you.”

  I close my eyes and drop my head as London rubs me harder, my blood pumpi
ng faster and my breathing shallow.

  “I could come right now without anyone’s permission.”

  “Do it, kitten, and you’ll be in a world of hurt,” Kayne threatens me in a delicious way.

  “Bad boys can't have all the fun,” I argue.

  “Maybe not, but naughty girls definitely get spanked,” he warns.

  “And then fucked.” I meet his challenging eyes.

  The limo stops short, and we’re all thrust back into the sobering present. Jett cracks the window and peeks outside. He then circles his finger in the air, as if to say wrap it up. We’ve arrived at our destination. The Four Seasons. This is where we’ve been staying since we arrived back in New York several days ago and where the reception for Tara and CJ’s wedding will take place. It's been nothing but champagne and caviar since we stepped off the plane. CJ’s family went all out and even upgraded mine and Kayne’s and Jett and London’s rooms to suites for our weeklong stay. We told them it wasn't necessary, but Richard, CJ’s stepfather, insisted. The mild-mannered stockbroker is a very hard man to say no to.

  I fix my skirt swiftly as London straightens up on the leather seat. No more than three seconds after we’re proper, the door swings open to a smiling valet.

  “Welcome to the Four Seasons.” The young man assists London out of the limo first. The smirk on her face is priceless. Next, I slide out, followed by Kayne and Jett, who crowd us on the sidewalk. I know the endearing smile the cute valet extended to London didn't sit well with either of them. We’ve been claimed by two of the most domineering men on Earth, and they will make it known however and whenever they damn well please. We find their overprotectiveness adorable. The valet not so much. He looks as if he's about to pee himself from Kayne’s threatening glare alone. Poor guy. He was just being polite.

  We enter the ritzy hotel as two separate, unassuming couples. Hand in hand, and all secret smiles.

  The electricity of Christmas buzzes in the air as we make our way past the massive Christmas tree sparkling in the lobby, adorned with shiny red and gold balls, white twinkling lights, and glittery pinecones. The potent aroma of balsam assaults our senses all the way to the elevator. I love Hawaii, but there’s something magical about Christmas in New York. Maybe because it's what I know. What I grew up around. Bustling shoppers, extravagant storefront windows, Rockefeller Center, and Jack Frost definitely nipping at your nose. A shiver runs through me as the warmth of the building chases away the cold.