DAY ONE of a very van der Waals Christmas
I still feel butterflies when I'm in close proximity to Wolfram van der Waals but this time, they're the sustainable kinds of butterflies. They don't flap their flimsy wings as much and they may not soar as high, but they're going to live for more than a day.
Some loves crash and burn, like Brett and Dash's attempt at dating - he couldn't live with her jealousy, she couldn't deal with the fact his acting career meant he had to kiss beautiful women. Some loves stay on a low simmer, flames licking and quivering at just the right moments, but not hot enough to incinerate the lovers to a crisp. My feelings for Wolf, I decide right then and there, will not consume and burn us up until there is nothing left.
The taxi that is taking me to Oudewater skids on a patch of ice. The car swerves and I clutch the window's armrest until the driver regains control of the vehicle. He turns in his seat. All I can see are thick, bushy eyebrows and a long nose poking out from under a cap pulled down so low over his forehead that I'm surprised he can even see a thing.
Satisfied I'm not about to go into hysterics he turns back around and jabs his finger at the radio. Choral music starts to play, taking me back to a time six years ago when I first came to the village. The town looks the same, which is comforting and surreal at the same time. I remember the toddler I'd waved at once, to Wolf's amazement, and wonder where that child is now - one of the kids in the park, bundled up in a puffy winter jacket? I gaze at the group of children we pass, but at this distance, one is pretty much indistinguishable from the other.
The driver brings me to the long driveway of the ancestral van der Waals family home and his surprise is emitted in the form of a low whistle. I have to blink away my surprise when I see the frost-tipped lawn ornaments. Lining both sides of the driveway are green gift boxes, wire and plastic sheer enough to reveal the twinkling lights within. They're big enough for someone to sit on and wrapped with an enormous red velvet bow.
The entrance to the house is surrounded by a patch of striped candy canes about two feet tall. Blocking one of the garages is a sleigh made of rose gold metal, white and gold glitter, and a garland of greenery draped loosely over it. It's not decorative and a pleasant shiver goes through me as I wonder whether Wolf set it up for us to cuddle in until our noses turned red as Rudolph's.
The moment the taxi pulls to a stop and I open the door, a familiar face emerges from the stately house, a warm smile of welcome on his face. "Humphries," I call out, grinning from ear to ear. "It's so nice to see you again!"
"Same to you, Miss Wright," he says, looking a little older and whiter than I remember him, but nonetheless in good spirits and health. His mustache is curled up at the ends in a Frenchified way, whiter than paint and thin like a rat's tail.
"Am I the first one here?" I ask as I pay the taxi driver. With a mumble of thanks, he scurries back into the warmth of the taxi, leaving me standing on the driveway with my Longchamp's tote on my arm and my Samsonite suitcase at my feet.
"Just you and Mr. Wolf." The butler smiles like he knows a secret.
Graeme, who threw herself from the role of stay-at-home girlfriend to socialite wife, had been hoping to play hostess this Christmas in New York, but with Levi reluctant to bring his girlfriend around, saying it was "too soon", and with my plans with Wolf to go back to the Netherlands, her hopes were dashed when, for one reason or another, all of us begged a rain check.
Unwilling to be left out, she declared she and Xander would join us on Christmas Eve - and so, of course, Wolf and I planned our rendezvous for the week before, guaranteeing us some alone time before our family descended on us.
Without waiting for Humphries to make an embarrassing offer of help, I haul myself and my belongings up the steps, past the door he holds open for me, and into the foyer.
"It still looks the same," I say, half in surprise, half in awe at the decadent surroundings. I've been in some pretty grand places in the last year, courtesy of my job as a travel writer, but there's something just a tad bit more magical about this home.
"Mrs. van der Waals—" Humphries chuckles, stopping himself just in time, remembering that Rhona has remarried. "Mrs. Winthrop hasn't changed the decorations. The last time the whole family gathered here was the Christmas before Mr. van der Waals passed on."
I nod, remembering that I'd been living with Levi when that happened, and that he hadn't attended in a show of solidarity. Instead, we'd made a pillow fort in the living room, gotten sick on hot chocolate and Christmas Lindt truffles, and watched sappy movies.
"It's nice to have young people in the house again," he says, shutting the heavy door behind me, keeping the blustery wind out. "With just me and the staff, it can get—" He shakes his head, but I get the picture.
Lonely, was what he was going to say. Loneliness is a feeling I know well - it's almost like a friend of mine. I used to think that I was confusing being alone with being lonely, but after a few continents too many, I realized that I was deluding myself if I thought I was happy jet setting around the world and having no one place to call home. There were freaking boarding gates that I saw more than my own friends.
I had Levi's swaggy loft, Graeme and Xander's town house, Brett's cramped apartment, and, of course, my chic room at Wolf's. But home? I nibble my thumb, spotting the familiar pink marble ballerina on the center table. So much is the same. So much is different.
"Do I still have the Yellow Room?" I ask hesitantly, relieved when he nods. Thank goodness. At least I know the way there.
"Will you need—" he begins to ask, but it's too late, I'm already jogging up the stairs with an energy I didn't have six years ago.
"No, thank you!" I call down to him. "I've got it!"
My old bedroom, like the rest of the house, looks the exact same. It's kind of eerie, because it makes me feel like I'm Old Charlotte again. The girl who was in awe of someone else's wealth and who wrote home about the quality of the bathroom. I wince, remembering how gauche I'd been.
I unpack, smoothing travel-wrinkled tops and bottoms into the dresser, and arrange my makeup and perfume on top, along with my iPad, which is loaded with all four hundred ebooks of my TBR. My to-be-read pile grows every month and while I optimistically brought it with me in hopes of making a dent in my pleasure reading, part of me is hopeful that I won't have the time.
"Hey."
My heart clenches and I turn around, heartbeat crescendoing like an orchestra when I see Wolf standing in the doorway, lopsided smile on his face.
"Hi," I say quietly, and then, before I know it, he's striding toward me and I'm meeting him halfway and our lips are melding together in a lip-lock that sends white-hot heat puddling into my stomach.
I love that he's not standing on ceremony, not boring me with small talk or pleasantries. Tingles race down my back where he touches me, explode in electric shocks as his hands cup my butt, one palm on each cheek, and pull me closer until I can feel how happy he is to see me.
Between kisses, when I stop to catch my breath, I ask, "Wolf"—gasp—"Why didn't you"—gasp—"meet me downstairs?"
"I was waiting for you to find me," he whispers against my lips before using his teeth to tug my plump lower lip out in a particularly wolfish gesture that has my senses reeling. "But then," he adds, a hint of a laugh in his voice, "I got bored. Imagine my surprise when I came here to find you unpacking instead of doing this?"
I laugh, throwing my head back in such a way that it gives him better access to my throat. The feeling of his hot lips across mine, the clean-shaven brush of his jaw and cheeks, and his husky drawl in my ear all culminate in one coherent thought: I want to have sex with Wolf. Now. On the floor or on the bed. Anywhere he'll take me.
"You're right," I murmur, kissing the hollow at the base of his throat, unbuttoning his shirt as I go down. I kiss the soft indent between his pectoral muscles. "We should have been doing this instead."
Now it's his turn to chuckle. His fingertips ride under my sweater, skimming across my abdomen like flames. "Take it off," he whispers, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out he means my top.
"You can do it," I say, but he shakes his head.
He wants to watch, I realize, and without hesitation, I pull the soft cashmere sweater over my head and toss it on the bed. His eyes are hungry as I reach behind me to unclasp my nude-colored bra and within seconds, my chest is free and my bra joins the sweater. It isn't cold in the room but under his scrutiny, goosebumps crawl over my flesh, stiffening my nipples into beady points.
"Are we doing this?" he asks, looking deep into my eyes. I love that he's asking permission, still offering me an out if I want to take it, but I mutely nod. Our simmering tension has finally come to a breaking point, and if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that if a pot wants to boil over, you just have to let it.
"We are."
And then he's kissing me again, his mouth fighting between a grin and a kiss, and I can feel the strange shapes his mouth is making against my own.
"You taste like whiskey on ice," I whisper. Much like his personality, his kisses are hot and cold, scorching in the best possible of ways.
His hand palms a breast and I moan into his mouth, bucking against his body. He receives me, flicking the pad of his thumb against sensitive flesh until it's begging for more than just a finger.
"Wolf," I gasp. "Wolf." My voice is half plea, half whimper. It's on the tip of my tongue to blurt it out, to just say I love you and to hell with the rest of it, and if he keeps teasing me, I won't be able to hold it back much longer.
"Yes, Charlotte?" His eyes glitter down at me in delight.
Damn him. He knows exactly what he's doing to me.
"Wolf," I repeat from between gritted teeth.
There's still layers of fabric separating our bodies from each other, but he solves that problem in less than a minute.
Hi guys! So I'm doing a little Christmas bonus for you because you're the best fans a girl could ever ask for <3 And also, with the weather getting a little chillier, I got in a very holly jolly mood and wanted to do something wintry and wonderful, so I hope I succeeded in that department :p There will def be more epilogous (autocorrect, pls roll with me here) Christmas goodies in store for Wolf + Char so please enjoy! & if you have scene-specific requests for cute holiday Wolflotte stuff, please mention it here :) I may use them! :)