Christmas Eve
© 2025 Lily Lowen. All rights reserved. Do not copy, repost, or distribute without permission.
Clara wasn’t sure if it was the Christmas lights, the wine, or the way Camden Shaw’s hand rested on her knee under the table, but her heartbeat hadn’t been normal since they sat down.
It had been fluttering all evening.
The Christmas Eve dinner at Frost Peak lodge glowed with soft carols, candles flickering against gold place settings, and big fluffy snowflakes falling lazily outside the windows. Garlands lined the beams overhead and everything smelled like pine and warm bread.
It didn’t feel real.
Especially since she was sitting beside her CEO boss, Camden Shaw, pretending to be his girlfriend.
She still wasn’t sure why she had said yes.
Camden leaned in to laugh at his father’s joke and the warmth of his shoulder brushed hers. His mother beamed at them from across the table like she was already planning the wedding. Clara reached for her glass, trying to steady her breathing.
When she set the glass down, she caught Camden watching her. Just a quick glance, barely anything. But it sent a slow warmth through her that had nothing to do with the wine.
He looked away, like he hadn’t been staring at her for that extra second.
It was all pretend, she knew that. But something about the way he kept touching her and looking at her made it very hard to stay in character.
Clara was Camden’s administrative assistant, not date material for a fancy Christmas Eve dinner. Their interactions were mostly limited to emails and meetings. Of course she had noticed him at the office...it was hard not to. He had the type of personality that filled a room and a brilliance that made it hard not to be in awe. The fact that he was charmingly handsome didn’t help.
But she was certain he didn’t even really know she existed.
So when he’d asked her to pretend to be his girlfriend for this one night at the lodge, she’d nearly choked on her coffee.
“I need a favor,” he had said. In person. Not an email or memo. He stood at her desk, hands in pockets, looking less like the CEO and more like a kid asking for more allowance. At first she figured it was something to do with a last minute task or extra work.
She was wrong.
His mother was expecting to meet the woman he had told her he was seeing on Christmas Eve. The thing was, he wasn’t seeing anyone. Not for a few months at least. But when he first told his mother the lie, he hadn’t thought as far ahead as Christmas.
And when Christmas started approaching, he panicked.
“I know it’s inappropriate and you probably have plans with someone or family...”
“No,” she had answered too quickly. “I mean, no plans. I’ll go.”
Now here she was, wearing a soft green dress that Camden had given her the money to buy and sitting close enough to feel his warmth through the fabric. She was trying her hardest not to imagine the night as anything more than it was.
He had even booked a single bed suite for the night to convince his mother. Although he had made it perfectly clear that he’d take the couch.
She was there earlier to get changed after they arrived at the lodge together. She was used to luxurious offices and polished boardrooms, but the suite was something else. There was already a warm fire glowing in the stone hearth and thick blankets folded over a wide king-sized bed. The enormous window overlooked trees and mountains. The room looked like something she’d find on Instagram or Pinterest.
As she changed into the dress, fantasies kept intruding her mind. The favor turning into something more. A romantic kiss by the firelight. Cozying up under the thick blankets. And maybe...
Clara shook her head and smiled at Camden’s mother when she complimented the dress.
“Thank you.”
Camden’s hand squeezed her leg. She turned to look at him and caught the soft curl of his dark hair and the way the tree lights reflected in his grey eyes. Then he turned to her and smiled. A shiver shot down her spine.
“Clara, dear,” Camden’s mother said, learning forward with an eager smile, “what do you do for work?”
Clara straightened a little in her chair. “Oh, um, I’m Camden’s administrative assistant.”
“Oh, wonderful,” his mother said. “He needs someone organized. He was hopeless with his school projects. Never remembered a deadline in his life.”
Camden huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re not wrong. Clara keeps my entire schedule from collapsing. I would be a disaster without her.”
Clara blinked, startled. Camden rarely acknowledged her work out loud, let alone in front of people. He usually just handed her files or asked her to move a meeting. Hearing him say it now, in that calm, certain tone, sent a warm flutter through her chest she didn’t know what to do with.
“I just try to make things run smoothly.”
“Invaluable is the word,” Camden added, looking at her like he meant it.
His father cut in with a chuckle. “You shouldn’t date someone you work with. That’s a recipe for trouble.”
Camden raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that how you met Mom?”
His mother playfully slapped her husband’s arm. “Don’t be a hypocrite.”
Dinner wound down in a soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses, and Clara tried not to sigh in relief when people finally began pushing their chairs back from the table. Camden stood first, offering his hand to help her up. She slipped her fingers into his without thinking, and something in his grip tightened just slightly, like he enjoyed it more than he should.
“Before you head to your room,” his mother said, pulling out her phone. “Let’s get a picture by the tree.”
Clara felt Camden stiffen for half a second. He recovered quickly, his hand sliding to the small of her back as he guided her toward the enormous pine glittering with lights and ribbons. His mother positioned them with practiced enthusiasm.
The tree towered nearly to the beams, covered in soft white lights and glass ornaments that caught the glow and threw it back in tiny stars. It was the kind of tree people gathered around, the kind that belonged to families who planned traditions weeks in advance.
Clara felt a small ache bloom in her chest. She didn’t have anything waiting for her tomorrow, except for more pretending. That was part of the reason she’d said yes to all of this in the first place.
“Closer,” Camden’s mother said, breaking into her thoughts. “You two look adorable together.”
Clara moved in. Camden stepped closer too, wrapping an arm fully around her waist this time. His body was warm against her side, his breath brushing her hair as he tilted his head to fit beside hers.
“Ready?”
Clara smiled for the camera and the flash went off.
“Perfect,” his mother beamed. “I’m so happy you brought her, Camden.”
“Me too.”
Clara glanced up at him. He was still looking ahead, but his expression was soft.
His mother lowered her phone and put it back in her clutch. “Okay you two. Enjoy your Christmas Eve and we’ll see you at breakfast.”
“Goodnight, mom.”
Camden leaned down and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. His dad clapped his back and they both left the dining hall.
The second they were gone, Camden tipped his head back with a long, exhausted breath.
“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s get out of here.”
He offered his hand again. She hesitated, then took it, the warmth of his palm closing around hers. He led her down the quiet hallway, the sounds of the celebration fading behind them.
Clara felt her pulse steady and quicken at the same time.
He held her hand as they stepped onto the elevator, thumb resting against the side of her knuckles like he’d forgotten he was doing it. Clara didn’t mind. She didn’t want the moment to end.
But with all the little touches throughout the night...maybe it wasn’t going to.
They stepped out onto the quiet top floor. Soft lights glowed along the hallway, reflecting against the frosted windows. Only two suites occupied this floor, both tucked away behind heavy wooden doors.
Camden unlocked the one on the left and pushed it open for her.
Clara stepped inside and Camden closed the door behind them.
And that was when he let out a heavy, unfiltered exhale. His shoulders dropped almost instantly. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing the perfect style he’d kept all night.
“Thank god,” he muttered.
He took off his suit coat and tossed it onto a nearby armchair. For the first time since she’d known him, he didn’t look like Camden Shaw, polished CEO. He looked like a man who was tired, overwhelmed, and relieved.
Clara’s heart dipped.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Yeah. Nice to stop pretending.”
He lifted his head. “What?”
“Nothing. Just have to make it through breakfast, right?”
“Right.”
She nodded and turned away from him. She didn’t want him to see the sting of disappointment on her face. Of course she knew it was all a façade but part of her wished that he wasn’t that good of an actor. How many other girls did he parade in front of his parents to appease them? How many others felt like absolute goddesses for an evening?
God, she was so embarrassed.
“Clara,” he said softly.
“It’s fine,” she said quickly, taking the backs off of her earrings. “I know it’s all just a favor and I didn’t have plans tonight anyway.”
“How come?”
She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “I was going to fly home for Christmas but my parents took off on a cruise instead.” She tried for a light laugh. “Too late for me to make other plans, so...here I am.”
“You deserve better than being alone,” he said quietly.
She paused before speaking. “Then it’s a good thing someone asked me for a favor.”
Camden crossed the room and sat beside her. “You’re a great date, by the way.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“But it’s true,” he said. “You know, I didn’t ask just anybody.”
Clara rolled her eyes and stood up. “Yeah, right.”
“Do you think I’d bring just anybody to Frost Peak on Christmas Eve to meet my mother?”
“I...” Clara rolled her earrings around in the palm of her hand. “I don’t know what to think.”
Camden stood and stepped toward her. “I do have something to admit.”
A quiet beat passed between them.
“What?”
His eyes flicked down before meeting hers again. “I’m not that good of an actor.”
Clara’s pulse stumbled and for a heartbeat they just stood there.
Then she blinked, coming back to reality.
She shouldn’t want this. He probably didn’t want this. This was her boss. A favor.
Clara stepped back, drawing in a slow breath. “I should go get changed.”
She didn’t get two steps when his fingers wrapped gently around her hand, stopping her without pulling back. It was a careful touch, not demanding or possessive. Like he was afraid she’d slip through his fingers if he squeezed too tight.
She froze.
“I don’t want to upset you,” he said. “And I don’t want you going to bed thinking you’re just...theater for my family.”
Clara swallowed. “It’s fine, really.”
“It’s not,” he said softly. “I should never have asked you. It wasn’t fair. But my mom...” He laughed quietly. “I’d take the pressure of a board room over her expectations any day.”
“She seems intense.”
He laughed again. “You have no idea. But she loved you. That’s impressive.”
“I’m glad I impressed.”
“You impress me,” he said, pulling her a little closer. “You always have.”
It was Clara’s turn to laugh. “I didn’t even think you knew I existed.”
“Seriously?” Camden seemed shocked. “I wasn’t lying earlier. Everything would fall apart without you.”
He looked at her, unguarded. It was impossible not to soften.
“Camden, I...I’m just confused.”
His shoulders eased. “Then let me fix that.”
Camden tilted his free hand slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. His knuckles brushed her cheek first, the lightest touch, then his thumb traced the edge of her jaw, warm and gentle.
“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly.
She didn’t.
He leaned in just enough to touch his forehead against hers for a moment.
Then, slowly, he kissed her.
It wasn’t a hungry kiss, not at first. It felt like a test, or a question, a gentle press of the lips. Warm and careful. Sweet in a way Clara wasn’t prepared for.
She sighed into it, closing her eyes as everything inside her loosened.
Camden’s fingers brushed along her jaw again, tilting her chin slightly, deepening the kiss by an inch. Just enough to feel his breath catch. Just enough for her to feel the shift under his restraint.
She answered it instinctively, leaning into him, letting her hand slide up his chest. Maybe this was all it was, but it was Christmas...why not enjoy it while she could?
His arm slipped around her waist, drawing her gently against him. His mouth softened, then grew firmer, more sure, still slow but no longer tentative. A low hum slipped from her throat before she could stop it.
Camden pulled back a fraction, breathing unsteady, eyes half-lidded but focused entirely on her.
“I wanted to do that all night,” he murmured.
“This wasn’t part of the plan.”
His thumb brushed her lower lip.
“New plan.”
She didn’t get a chance to respond before he kissed her again. Her fingers curled in his shirt as his other hand slid up her back.
The world outside the suite faded into soft snow and flickering firelight against the windowpane.
Clara didn’t usually lose herself in moments like this, but with Camden it all felt new and warm and safe. The kind of safe that made her brave.
She let her hands trail up the front of his shirt, fingers brushing the soft fabric over his chest. He inhaled when her palms flattened against him, his breath catching quietly against her mouth. She felt the heat of him under her fingertips and let her body press closer
His fingertips skimmed the curve of her waist, sending a warm shiver through her as he guided her backward a step, slow and careful, until her hips brushed the edge of the bed. She broke the kiss with a tiny gasp.
Camden froze immediately, his hands loosening at her waist but not pulling away. “Too fast?” he asked.
Clara looked up at him, her pulse thudding in her throat. She reached for his shirt again, gripping it lightly at the front, and tugged him close enough that their foreheads touched.
“No,” she whispered.
“Good.”
The room tilted slightly as they sank onto the bed together.
They landed on the bed in a slow, soft tangle. Nothing rushed, nothing frantic. The mattress dipped under their weight, the firelight painting a warm glow across the sheets. Camden braced one hand beside her head, keeping his body just above hers, like he was afraid he might overwhelm her if he let himself get too close too fast.
Clara lifted her hands to his chest and let her palms smooth up the front of his shirt. The quiet rise and fall of his breath hitched when her fingers brushed the buttons. She answered by sliding her fingers along the first button and easing it free.
She undid another. Then another.
His skin appeared in warm glimpses, the heat of him drawing her in. He helped her by shrugging out of his shirt, tossing it aside without taking his eyes off her. His body was solid under her fingertips and she felt him shiver when she ran her hand down his side.
Camden dipped low and kissed her, starting at her lips then traveling down her cheek. He kissed the corner of her jaw, then the hollow just beneath her ear, and the sensation was so sweet it made her thighs tighten. His breath grazed her skin and sent a warm ache rolling low in her stomach.
He moved to her collarbone next, laying gentle, lingering kisses along the ridge, and she felt each one pulse through her chest. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, letting her head tip slightly to give him more room.
His hand slid up her side, slow enough that she felt every inch of his touch. When his palm cupped her breast, she sucked in a soft breath. The warmth of his hand through her dress sent a sharp thrum through her body. He stroked his thumb lightly across the fabric, gentle at first, then firmer as he tuned in to her reactions. Her back arched on instinct, pressing into his touch.
“You are incredible,” he whispered against her skin.
Then his hand drifted lower, grazing her waist, her hip, the inside of her thigh. Each inch he touched sent a warm ache spiraling higher, her pulse racing in a way she could barely control—and didn’t want to. When his fingers finally reached the hem of her dress, he paused before pushing the fabric upward, slow and teasing. The drag of it rose goosebumps along her skin. She felt the air on her bare legs and watched his eyes darken as more of her body came into view. When the dress pooled around her waist, she tugged at the front of his pants, her fingers shaky but eager.
His breath faltered. He helped her by bracing himself so she could slide the button free. The sound of the zipper lowering felt intimate in a way that sent a thrill down her spine. He lifted himself just long enough to slide out of his pants, tossing them aside, his body lean and warm in the firelight.
Clara pushed up to her elbows as he reached for her dress. She lifted her arms and he pulled it over her head, dropping it onto the floor with a softness that matched the way he touched her. Then he lowered himself again, kissing her slowly while his hand found her thigh once more. This time he trailed his fingers higher, over the thin fabric of her underwear. The touch was light, barely there, but the anticipation made her breath stutter.
Her hips lifted instinctively, seeking more, and a soft groan escaped his throat as he felt how responsive she was.
“That’s it,” he murmured.
His fingers teased her through the fabric in gentle circles. She gripped his shoulder for balance. Every movement felt like it pulled her deeper into him, deeper into the warmth building between them. His kissed her again, slower now, savoring the way she trembled under his touch as he teased her through the thin barrier.
“Open your legs. Slow.”
She did and the warmth grew into something almost too much and not enough at the same time. She could feel him against her thigh, firm and wanting, and the thought that he desired her this much made a flush rise to her chest.
His hand drifted to the edge of her underwear, his fingers hooking the fabric gently, tugging it downward just an inch to test her reaction.
Clara’s stomach tightened with anticipation and she gasped. Something hungry flickered in his eyes at the sound. He pulled away from her lips, trailing his mouth across her jaw and down her neck, then lowered himself down her body. Warm lips on her collarbone. A lingering kiss between her breasts. Another on the soft skin just under her ribcage.
He continued to drag her underwear down, slowly, teasing her with the pace. She closed her eyes, opened them, closed them again.
Was this really happening?
When the underwear reached her thighs, he paused, kissing the inside of one leg, his lips barely brushing her. The touch was light, almost reverent. Clara’s head tipped back on the pillow, a soft sound escaping her.
Camden looked up at her from where he knelt between her knees. “Hold still,” he murmured. “Let me warm you up.”
The first touch of his tongue against her was soft, exploratory, more of a taste than anything else. Clara gasped, her fingers gripping the sheets. A warm pulse spread through her, slow and deep, the heat building with each gentle stroke of his mouth.
He took his time. Of course he did. Groaning against her, the sound vibrating against the spot that made her shake. His hands slid up her thighs, holding her steady as his mouth teased her clit in slow, deliberate motions that made her whole body tighten with pleasure.
“Yes,” she breathed, her voice unsteady. “Camden—”
He responded with another slow sweep of his tongue, firm this time, between her folds. His hands grounded her as she arched into the sensation.
The warmth built, curling inside her in slow waves, and she felt herself sinking into the mattress, into the firelight, into him.
Everything was heat and softness and the quiet sounds he made as he tasted her like he couldn’t get enough.
And Clara didn’t want him to stop.
Her breath hitched again, every stroke of his tongue coaxing her closer. Her hips shifted restlessly beneath his hands, her thighs trembling, tension building sharp and hot in her belly.
He paused just long enough to look up at her, his eyes dark with intent.
“Good girl,” he said quietly. “Come for me.”
The words hit harder than she expected and her body responded before her mind could catch up, the heat flaring fast.
And when he pressed his mouth to her again, she broke apart with a cry, her fingers in his hair, her thighs shaking around him. He didn’t stop. He just held her there, steady, mouth moving slow and sure until her body eased and eased and softened again beneath him.
When she opened her eyes, breathless and dazed, Camden was already moving back up the bed, his mouth brushing over her hip, her stomach, the curve of her breast.
“You’re beautiful when you come,” he said against her skin.
She reached for him without thinking, pulling him to her, kissing him and tasting herself on his lips.
Her hands found his waist as he settled over her, the heat of his body impossible to ignore. She let her fingers drift lower, down the firm line of his stomach to the band of his underwear. Her palm pressed lightly over him and she felt him there—hard, thick, unmistakably ready.
Clara’s breath caught.
“You like that?” Camden chuckled, his voice rough. “God, you’re making me so hard.”
She stroked him once, slow and deliberate. His hips twitched.
“These need to go,” she said.
He didn’t hesitate. He pulled them off and tossed them aside, his body taut and flushed, breath shallow. For a moment, he hovered above her, and she reached for him again, her fingers wrapping around him, stroking slow. She liked the way he responded to her touch, the way he firmed in her hand, his jaw clenching.
“God,” he said. “You’re gonna undo me.”
She smiled. “That’s the idea.”
Camden reached between, his fingers slipping through her warmth one last time before guiding himself to her. He paused, eyes locked on her, teasing her with the tip. Like he wanted her to beg for it.
Clara slid her hands to his back, pulling him down, wrapping her legs around his hips.
“Please,” she said breathlessly.
That was all he needed.
He pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, and Clara’s breath caught in her throat. The stretch, the fullness, the way her body opened around him—heat bloomed low in her belly, her nails pressed into his skin as he sank deeper.
“God,” he groaned against her neck. “You feel amazing.”
She couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. She felt lit from the inside.
When he was fully inside her, he stilled just for a moment. His forehead rested against hers, and they breathed together, her hands smoothing over his back, his hips nestled between her thighs.
Then he began to move.
Slow at first, with long, deep thrusts that made her push back against him, chasing every inch. She felt the press of him, the way his mouth pressed against her jaw, her shoulders, the curve of her neck. Her body met his again and again, slick with heat, alive in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.
When she moaned his name, he answered with hers.
And that made it feel real.
Camden’s thrusts stayed slow, deliberate, like he wanted to stretch out the sensation as far as he could. Clara clung to him, overwhelmed and aching, an itch being scratched right to its core. Her breaths came in shallow gasps as each stroke sent pleasure through every nerve.
He kissed her temple, her cheek, her parted lips.
Then he slowed even more, hips barely rocking, and looked at her.
“Come here,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint.
Before she could ask, he shifted and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, their bodies still joined. Her knees settled on either side of his hips, the new angle making her pulse throb deep inside.
Clara braced her hands on his chest, trying to steady herself. His hands slid up her thighs, her waist, settling just under her breasts.
“Ride me,” he said, voice low. “Show me how much you like it.”
She bit her lip, flushed and breathless, but when she began to move, it was instinct. There was nothing self-conscious about the slow circles of her hips. The stretch was somehow deeper this way, the friction sharper, sweeter. His hands gripped her tighter as she rocked against him, every movement sending sparks through her spine.
He groaned, head tipping back. “Just like that...”
Clara moved for both of them because it felt good. Because he made her feel wanted. Because this was her choice, her rhythm and he was letting her lead.
And in that moment, there was no more pretending.
She found her cadence, rocking over him slow, each movement drawing a fresh rush of sensation through her core. Her hands slid down his chest, anchoring herself, needing the feel of him beneath her. Camden’s gaze never left her face while his hands roamed her body, gripping tighter every time she sank down onto him.
She was close again. Already.
They way he filled her, the way his body responded to her. It was too much and not enough. Heat curled within her, spreading outward, her pulse hammering through every inch of her skin.
“Damn,” he breathed. “Don’t stop.”
She moved faster, chasing that edge, her thighs trembling. His name caught on her lips. His hands slid to her hips, guiding her, lifting into each thrust. She could feel him holding back, feel the strain in his muscles as he gave her everything.
Her head tipped back, a soft cry escaping as the pressure inside her shattered.
“Oh my god—”
She came hard, hips stuttering, body clenched tightly around him. Camden held her through it, his own breath ragged, hands steady on her as he murmured something she didn’t catch.
For a moment, all she could do was collapse against his chest, her body still pulsing, heart racing, lips brushing his shoulder as she fought to catch her breath.
Camden’s hands swept up her back, strong and sure, before he shifted again. He rolled them until her back hit the sheets, their bodies still locked together. He hovered over her, breath rough, eyes burning into hers like he was barely holding back.
“That was so hot.”
His mouth found hers again as he started to move. This time he didn’t hold back. Each thrust was harder, deeper, rocking into her with a pace that made her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. He buried his face in her neck, groaning low as her legs wrapped around his waist.
“Clara—” His voice broke against her skin. “That’s it. Take all of me.”
His movements turned almost desperate and he thrust harder, causing her to cry out. She clutched at him.
“Yeah,” he groaned, nipping at her neck. “Let me feel you.”
Her legs tightened around him and he swore softly. He pressed deeper, hips rocking harder, his forehead against her cheek.
“God, you’re going to make me come.”
She ran her hands down his back and grabbed, pulling him closer.
“I want you to come inside me.”
His movements stuttered, but only briefly.
“Are you sure?”
“Come in me, Camden,” she purred.
“Clara...fuck.” His voice sounded wrecked, strained, like he was holding on by a thread. “You feel so good.”
He drove into her harder, the sound of skin and breath and low moans filling the room. His rhythm stuttered, his body tensed, and then he pressed deep with a rough groan. Hips locked tight, pulsing inside her as he let go.
She felt it, every wave of it. Felt him spill into her, his breath shaking against her collarbone. Felt the way he clung to her like he didn’t want to let go.
And when it was over, neither of them moved for a long moment.
Just breath. Warm skin. And the soft crackling of the fire.
They stayed tangled for a while. Camden slipped a hand into her hair and stroked slow, absent lines along her scalp . Clara rested her cheek to his chest and listened to the quiet thud of his heartbeat.
Outside, the wind softened and the snow kept falling in the moonlight.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You okay?”
She smiled against his skin. “Yeah.”
They didn’t rush to fill the silence. He grabbed the blanket from the bottom of the bed and pulled it over their shoulders. She traced a small circle on his ribs, feeling the rise and fall even out. It hit her then—Christmas Eve, the storm, the lights on the tree downstairs, the way his mother had smiled at her like she belonged. The thought made her throat go warm.
Camden tipped her chin so he could see her face. His eyes were softer than she’d ever seen them. “Merry Christmas, Clara.”
“Merry Christmas, Camden.”
He kissed her once more, slow and sweet, then pulled her closer. The fire crackled. The snow fell. She let her eyes drift shut to the sound of his breathing and the quiet glow of the room around them.
Maybe it was an act. Maybe it was a show.
But in that moment she didn’t care. Even if it only lasted tonight, it was worth it.
