Sugar Plum

by Jenika Snow

  Sugar Plum

  Jenika Snow

  Isabella Starling

  Contents

  Blurb

  1. Bastian

  2. Holly

  3. Holly

  4. Bastian

  5. Holly

  6. Holly

  7. Bastian

  8. Holly

  9. Holly

  10. Holly

  11. Holly

  12. Bastian

  Epilogue

  About Jenika Snow

  About Isabella Starling

  SUGAR PLUM

  By Isabella Starling & Jenika Snow

  Copyright © December 2019 by Isabella Starling & Jenika Snow

  First ebook publication © December 2019 Isabella Starling & Jenika Snow

  Cover design by: Mayhem Cover Creations

  Editor: Kayla Robichaux

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

  Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.

  Blurb

  My sugar plum was all grown up and more forbidden than ever.

  Holly Halliday was twenty years old and deliciously curvy.

  My best friend’s daughter.

  Too young.

  Off-limits.

  I’d kept my desires buried for the last two years, but now, with her realizing the effect she had on me, I was struggling to stay away.

  But this holiday season, Holly was especially irresistible, and there was no way I could say no to my desires any longer. I find myself breaking the vow I made with myself not to be with her. Holly's learned to use her womanly charm, and the moment those lace panties found their way under my pillow, I was a goner.

  There was no way I was keeping my distance, and I’d know how sweet Holly really is.

  Sugar Plum is a father's best friend romance. Sugary sweet and self-indulgent, this novella is the perfect bite-sized treat to enjoy on a cold winter evening!

  One

  Bastian

  I should have looked away, shouldn’t have thought about how she’d look pressed against the mantle with her plaid skirt pulled up and over her hips, her legs spread, and her gaze trained on mine as she looked over her shoulder and begged me with her expression to fuck her.

  To claim her.

  I shouldn’t have thought about any of that given the fact that she was barely twenty, I was twice her age, and her father was my best friend since we were kids.

  And it wasn’t until her eighteenth birthday, when I joined the family for celebrating, that I realized how she turned into a beautiful, intelligent woman. It was then I saw her as a woman, a luscious, curvy female who I want to be with. I’d do anything to make her mine, to make that a reality.

  I could hear Aston talking, but my focus was on Holly, on the way she was laughing with one of her friends as they decorated the Christmas tree. If it weren’t for Holly, Aston’s house would never have any holiday cheer. Ever since Barbara, his wife, passed away three years prior, Holly made it her life’s mission to make things as festive as they used to be.

  I think I fell in love with her a little bit more each time I thought about that.

  Love.

  That’s what I felt for her, this once innocent and genuine, pure emotion that had turned into something more. I felt possessive of her, territorial. The very idea that another man would know what she felt like, how her hair smelled fanned out across a pillow, how she sounded in the throes of passion, made me enraged, jealous as if I wasn’t a grown man but some high school boy longing after his crush.

  But this wasn’t a crush. This was real, and the only reason I hadn’t gone after her, told her I wanted her as mine, that I couldn’t walk away, was because of the man sitting right in front of me.

  I brought myself back to the present and focused on Aston. He sat in his recliner, his feet bare despite the frigid temperatures outside. He wore a pair of jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt, the mug he held old and faded, the corner chipped. It said #1 Dad on it, and I felt this twinge of guilt, this knowledge that if he only knew what I was thinking about concerning his daughter, he’d probably kick my ass to next Sunday.

  But it wasn’t as if I wanted to corrupt Holly. I wanted to protect her, cherish her. I wanted to make her feel nothing but happiness, pleasure. I wanted her as my wife, the mother of my children. And it had been that desire that grew instantly, so fast, that it took my breath away.

  I knew there was no going back. There was no other woman for me. And I hadn’t been with anybody since I realized what she meant to me, when I looked at her on her eighteenth birthday, listened to her laugh, listened to her go on with passion about astrophysics.

  It was during all of that I realized I wanted her.

  Only her.

  “You’re somewhere else tonight, Bastian.”

  I cleared my throat and shifted on the couch, hoping like hell I didn’t have a guilty expression on my face. I sure as hell felt like I did. I could still hear Holly in the other room, see her movements in my peripheral vision. And trying to keep my arousal down, trying to hide the fact that I was semi-hard, made me feel like a fucking bastard.

  “I have a lot of things on my mind. Work, life stuff.” It wasn’t a lie; I was just evading the truth.

  He didn’t say anything for a moment and just stared at me, and I swore he had this knowing expression on his face. But he kept his thoughts to himself, instead bringing his coffee mug to his mouth and taking a long sip, watching me over the rim. When he set the mug down on the coffee table, he cleared his throat once, staring at me again.

  “It’s crazy how much she enjoys doing that holiday stuff, isn’t it?” He turned his head and looked into the living room where Holly was still decorating. I made a deep sound of acknowledgment and forced myself not to look in her direction, even though I sure as fuck wanted to.

  “She makes the house look really nice,” I found myself saying and snapped my mouth shut, clenching my jaw. It wasn’t as if I’d never said anything nice about Holly. In fact, I was proud of her. She was so damn smart, excelling in all her classes, so much so that she actually could graduate college early if she wanted to. I knew she was going for her master’s, would probably go for her doctorate as well. She was a fucking genius.

  “Yeah, she does give the house holiday cheer. Ever since Barbara passed away, I just haven’t really cared enough to do anything. That was always Barbara’s domain—decorating, sprucing everything up.” He exhaled roughly. “But I’m glad Holly decided to take over. She reminds me of Barbara so much—her personality, her drive for life. She’s a light in my darkness, that’s for sure.”

  And it was statements like that which had me regretting so much, not just who I was in love with, but knowing that once he found out my feelings for his daughter, that I’d never be able to give her up, to walk away, would be a betrayal in his eyes.

  And I couldn’t blame him.

  I hoped he didn’t, hoped he saw my love for her was something pure and real, that I would never do anything to hurt her, that I would always protect her.

  “I have a stack of papers at the office that need looked at.” Although the accounting for my advertising business ran on my time, and I had plenty of people to do that kind of grunt work for me,
I needed something to occupy myself, to take my mind off Holly and all the things I wanted.

  I’d waited two years, kept my emotions in check, not gone after her to give her time to grow, to let her live her life. But I couldn’t wait anymore. Every day was getting harder, and every time I saw her, I wanted to reach out, cup her face, and kiss her until she was breathless and clung to me.

  Two

  Holly

  Sunday lunches with Bastian were becoming the highlight of my week.

  The rest of the week passed painfully slow, and the anticipation of seeing the man who’d been like an uncle to me my whole life grew with each passing day.

  My days were spent at lectures. In the afternoons, I prepared dinner and put the house in order. Daddy had been working twice as hard since Mom passed away. I knew it was because he wanted to distract himself, but it made me feel lonely. And when I was lonely, the thoughts that went through my head were anything but innocent.

  Daddy could never find out how I really felt about Uncle Bastian. That he’d been the reason for my flushed cheeks, for all the time I spent getting the house ready. I’d stopped calling him Uncle years ago, but he was still Daddy’s best friend—and off-limits when it came to potential crushes as they came.

  But I couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t help the warm, tingly sensation that sent shivers down my spine every time Bastian so much as looked at me. He didn’t suspect a thing, and how could he? To him, I was nothing but the innocent daughter of his best friend.

  I kept glancing toward my father’s study where he and Bastian had sat down for a glass of whiskey after our lunch. I was in the living room with my friend Rosie. She was the only one who knew about my unrequited crush.

  “I wonder what they’re talking about,” I muttered under my breath as Rosie passed me a Christmas ornament to put on the tree.

  “Oh, not this again.” She gave me a meaningful look. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on Uncle Lancaster?”

  “Don’t call him that.” I put the ornament on the tree, shooting her a look of warning. “And be quiet. We can’t risk him overhearing.”

  “Of course not,” she mumbled. “He might actually do something about it if he does. Can you imagine? Finally having his lips on yours… his hands all over you….”

  I only noticed my hands were trembling when the next bauble slipped between my fingers, shattering on our hardwood floor. I cried out, bending down to pick up the pieces, when one of the shards dug into my palm. Hissing with pain, I whirled around to face Rosie when a figure appeared in front of me, tall, dark, and handsome.

  "You cut yourself, Holly." His deep voice was soothing, and without a care in the world, he lifted me into his arms and carried me over to the sofa in the living room, gently setting me down on the plush pillows. "It's not too bad. It won't need stitches. But I need to clean it. Rosie, get the first aid kit."

  My friend wordlessly made her way to the bathroom, leaving me alone with Bastian for a few precious moments. Goose bumps erupted on my skin, the touch of his fingertips against mine making my heart race. All too soon, Rosie was back with the first aid kit, and Daddy came out too, concerned when he saw the cut on my hand.

  "Not to worry," Bastian reassured him, calm as ever. "We'll get it cleaned up in no time."

  He pulled some gauze and an antiseptic cream out of the kit, closely inspecting the cut as he patched it up. It barely even hurt. I was just grateful Bastian had come to my rescue. I never wanted him to stop touching me.

  "Does that hurt, sugar plum?" he asked me, and the butterflies in my stomach fluttered. God, that nickname... it still made my knees go weak.

  "No, not at all," I managed, biting my lower lip as he finished up with my cut and put away the first aid kit. "Thank you for helping me, Bastian."

  "Don't mention it." He grinned, pressing the tip of his finger against my nose. "Littlest sugar plum."

  It was what he'd called me when I was a little girl. The littlest sugar plum. The words felt so good coming from his lips. I wanted him to say them a thousand times over. I wanted to beg him to repeat them. But I held back, forcing myself to stay quiet.

  "Well, I'm afraid duty calls," Bastian spoke up again while Daddy fussed with my hand. "I have to get something done before the workweek starts."

  "Work never stops for you, my friend," Daddy said and shook his head with a good-natured smile. "Another weekend spent in the city?"

  "Actually, I'm being forced to attend a party on New Year's Eve." Bastian grimaced. "I have a private fitting with my tailor for a suit."

  "Sounds like fun!" Rosie said, clapping her hands together. "Where is this party happening, Mr. Lancaster?"

  Bastian gave her a suspicious look, a sly smile playing on his lips. He didn't answer her question though, and Daddy cut into the conversation with a firm handshake for his old friend. "I'll see you on Wednesday for squash?"

  "Of course." Bastian's eyes lingered on mine. "And I'll see you on Sunday, sugar plum."

  "See you then." I managed a weak smile while Bastian said his goodbyes to Rosie and left us there by ourselves.

  "Well, girls," Daddy spoke up. "I'll clean up the broken bauble. Do you two need to catch up on schoolwork?"

  "Yes." Rosie nodded gravely. "You know they never stop giving us work to do, Mr. Halliday. Even over the holidays."

  "Tragic." My dad's eyes glittered as he winked at Rosie then made his way to clean up the mess I'd left out. I followed in Rosie's footsteps as she ran up to my bedroom, giggling the whole way.

  Once back in my room, we collapsed on my bed together, staring up at the ceiling.

  "Do you think he'll ever see me as anything but his best friend's daughter?" I sighed.

  "I think he already does." Rosie rolled over on her stomach, picking up my old teddy bear Rags.

  "I wish he'd make a move."

  "Maybe you need to make one." Rosie's eyes were teasing me. "You know, I don't think he'll turn you down. I think he'll be more than eager for a taste."

  "I wish." I groaned, pulling Rags into my lap and toying with his fraying paws. "He probably just thinks I'm a little kid."

  "Come on." Rosie rolled her eyes. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? You're gorgeous! Curvy in all the right places, with a butt I'd kill for. Long, pretty brown hair... bright blue eyes. He'd be lucky to have you, Holly."

  I smiled, though I still wasn't quite buying it. What would Bastian want with someone like me? I was inexperienced. In fact, I was so inexperienced I hadn’t even been with a man. I’d been saving myself for Bastian since I was sixteen and knew how much I wanted him… how much I loved him.

  "Maybe I really should make a move," I muttered. "But I'm afraid he'll turn me down if he knows it's me."

  "Well then, you need to take advantage of the perfect opportunity." Rosie's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Like that masquerade party your uncle dearest mentioned."

  I tapped my finger against my chin. "You think I should go to that holiday party?"

  "Think about it," Rosie purred. "It's perfect. Masks, anonymity, and none other than Mr. Bastian Lancaster looking for someone to kiss at midnight...."

  I hated the thought of him kissing someone else.

  I pulled myself up on my elbows. "You think I'm brave enough to do that?"

  "I'll find out the location of the party." Rosie giggled. "All you need to do is show up. I know he won't be able to keep his hands off you."

  I got off the bed and made my way over to the vanity table. It still looked like something a child would own, but I didn’t care. I might have picked this out when I was a little girl, but a look in the mirror revealed I was anything but anymore.

  "Okay," I exhaled. "Let's do it."

  The next time I saw Rosie was in the middle of the following week. She wore a triumphant smile as she sat down next to me in our economics lecture, shooting me knowing looks. We got our notebooks ready, and just as the door opened and our professor strolled in, she pulled my notebook toward h
er and started furiously scribbling on the lined paper. Then, she pushed it toward me.

  I glanced at the notebook, swallowing the lump that formed in my throat.

  Masquerade party—New Year's Eve, in that skyscraper on Baker Street at 7 p.m. A ticket is a grand! It all goes to charity. Do you have any savings?

  I looked over at her, silently shaking my head. She started scribbling again.

  We'll find a way to sneak you in!

  I nodded at her, and she leaned in to whisper, "Don't worry. We'll find a way to make this work."

  "And what might be so important to disturb my lesson?" a booming voice spoke up above us, and I swallowed thickly before looking up into the eyes of our professor.

  "It's nothing, Mr. Sullivan," I muttered.

  "It doesn't look like nothing." He raised an eyebrow at me before grabbing the notebook off my desk. "Masquerade party on the thirty-first? You are aware we have a class on the day, aren't you, Miss Halliday?"

  "Yes, professor," I managed. I was painfully aware, along with the rest of the class, that Professor Sullivan was the only one who'd scheduled a lesson on the last day of the year in the evening. Not to mention, he acted like we were high schoolers instead of college students. I paid for this class, so whether I attended or not was on me.

  But then again, I was too timid to actually say that to him. He was far too intimidating.

  "I will hold you accountable if you do not show up for that lesson, Miss Halliday," he spoke in a strict tone. "And I mean it. I want you here December thirty-first. Is that clear?"