Twelve Dates of Christmas

How to Drive HIM (and her) Wild 101

Depending on the event, "dress appropriately" could mean absolutely anything. Was our first public date a casual coffee shop outing, or was it a high-profile wedding reception? Should I wear a cute, laid-back dress or something more elegant and glamorous? The lack of details was maddening.

"Maybe because you hung up on him before he could explain?" I muttered under my breath, tossing the dress in my hand onto the growing pile on my bed. Frustration gnawed at me as I stared at the chaos, none of it feeling quite right for a date that could go in any direction. The thought of calling Theodore to demand more details crossed my mind, but my pride wouldn’t let me. Instead, I opted for the next best thing: I called Ember.

"Delilah."

"You're mad at me," I blurted, cutting to the chase.

Ember always called me "pet." It used to drive me insane when we were younger, but over time, it became a term of endearment that I couldn’t help but cherish. Of course, if anyone else dared call me that, I’d probably punch them in the face. But Ember? Not hearing it from his mouth made me anxious.

"Why would I be mad?" he finally said, his voice void of any emotion—which, coming from Ember, was somehow worse than outright anger.

"Because I didn’t tell you about Theodore..." My voice faltered.

A moment of tense silence hung between us, stretching longer than I could bear. Then he sighed, the weight of it filling the space between us.

"I’m not mad," he said finally, his tone softer now but no less heavy. "I’m just disappointed."

"I know," I murmured, rushing to defend myself. "I should have told you everything from the beg—"

"That’s not why I’m disappointed," he cut me off sharply. His words hit me like a slap. "I’m disappointed because you decided to give him another chance despite everything he’s done to you."

The finality in his tone left me speechless. My chest tightened as his words sank in, each syllable a pointed reminder of the cracks Theodore had left behind. I wanted to argue, to tell Ember he didn’t understand—but a part of me knew he was right. He always was.

"You think I don’t know that?" I was a bit too snappy for my liking. "But it’s not like I have a choice. It’s just complicated, Ember."

"You always have a choice," he said, his voice tight with barely contained frustration. I could practically hear him gritting his teeth. "And if you felt like you didn’t, you should have come to us sooner. We would have dealt with him for you."

At that moment, I wanted to spill everything—to tell Ember the truth about Theodore, the contract, my plan, and the trap I’d walked into. But I couldn’t. Ember wouldn’t let it go, and if he told Cyrus, Cyrus would burn Theodore alive. I couldn’t risk it. Their already fragile relationship with their brother would shatter entirely, and I couldn’t be the one to make it worse—especially since it was my fault it was this bad in the first place.

"Why did you call?" Ember asked, sounding as if his patience had already worn thin. It stung more than I wanted to admit, but I couldn’t blame him.

I hesitated, gripping the phone tighter. "I..." My voice faltered, unsteady under the weight of everything I wasn’t saying. "I just missed you."

That wasn't why I called, but telling him my reasons now felt very selfish.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, I thought he might hang up. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, barely above a whisper.

"I'll see you at the party later tonight."

I felt like a weight had lifted off my shoulders. I hadn’t asked my question, but Ember had answered it anyway. A "party" suggested a lively, crowded atmosphere without the stiff formality of something like a gala. It wasn’t the high-pressure kind of event where expectations were sky-high. That was a relief. I knew exactly what to wear now. I bid my farewells and got straight to work.

I slid into the black dress with a sigh of relief. It was shorter than what I usually wore, just brushing the tops of my thighs, but its loose cut gave it an effortless, relaxed vibe. The fabric, soft and fluid-like liquid silk, moved with me, skimming my skin and catching the light. It wasn’t tight—its allure lay in its simplicity, in the way it subtly hinted at my curves without clinging to them.

The back, though, was what truly drew the eye. The low dip reached the curve of my spine, leaving my back bare. As I studied my reflection, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of power. The dress felt bold, the backless design making me feel exposed but in control, like I could captivate the room with just a glance. I paired the dress with silver stilettos and matching jewellery before finishing off my makeup and hair. When I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t help but suppress a smile—tonight, I was going to drive Theodore wild, and I couldn't wait.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, my phone buzzed with a message from him: Let me in.

I rolled my eyes. Why not just knock like a normal person?

I opened the door, and there he was—his gaze sweeping over me with an intensity that made the air thicken. His eyes darkened the moment they landed on me, and his stance shifted to one that could only be described as predatory.

"Change," he said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone.

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate. I just stared right back at him, a flicker of challenge in my eyes.

"No."

His jaw tightened, but his gaze remained unwavering. "You think you can defy me?"

I smirked, keeping my voice steady. "I’m not defying you. I’m just not doing what you say."

"I don't like repeating myself, but I will this one time." Theodore took a step closer, but I didn’t budge. His voice was sharp when he spoke again. "Change. Now."

I met his gaze, unwavering. "Make me."

"Are you giving me consent to do anything I want to get you out of that dress?"

I met his gaze, unflinching, a smirk playing on my lips despite the heat that threatened to rise in my chest. "Try your best."

He didn’t move at first. Instead, his eyes darkened, just a shade deeper, as though he were savouring the moment. He stepped forward, the air between us crackling with a tension that was almost suffocating. I didn’t back down—not an inch. He took his time, like a predator observing his prey.

Slowly, he reached for the edge of my dress, his fingers grazing the fabric at my waist. I held my breath, not sure if I was more pissed or intrigued. He didn’t rip it off, didn’t even try to tear it away. Instead, he tugged the fabric ever so slightly, the soft pull making the dress slip just a little lower, revealing more of my skin.

"You wanted me to make you," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. He slowly slid his hands up the sides of my body, his touch like fire against my skin. "But I’m going to make you want it."

I tried to hold on to the anger, the defiance. I had to.

"You don’t control me," I shot back, though the words came out more breathless than I intended. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my body betraying me as he continued to slide his hands over the fabric, teasing it lower.

"Don’t I?" His lips were almost touching my ear as he whispered the words, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

And then, he did it.

His lips brushed the back of my ear before trailing down the side of my neck, sending a wave of heat through me as he pressed the softest, lightest kisses—each one lingering longer than the last, making my breath catch. I shuddered under his touch, the sensation of his lips on my skin almost intoxicating. For a moment, everything else faded away. I had to bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from moaning.

As if sensing my weakness, he slid his fingers behind my neck, untangling the delicate straps that held the dress in place.

"I think I do."

And then, in a single motion, he let the fabric fall. Not in a rush, but with complete control, revealing more of me than I was ready for.

But it wasn’t just the physical exposure that hit me; it was the way his gaze heated as he took in the sight, as if he owned it. Owned me.

He took a step back then, admiring his work, and I wasn’t sure if I hated it... or if I wanted him to do more.