Christmas music blared from every speaker, tinny and relentless, while red and green lights strobed overhead like a seizure waiting to happen. I pushed through the crowd, dodging strollers and shopping bags, my arms already aching from the weight of Emily's potential gifts. A cashmere scarf. A bottle of that perfume she liked. A pair of earrings I'd stared at for twenty minutes before realizing I had no idea if they were "her style."
Emily had been dropping hints for weeks: *"I just want something thoughtful, Alex. Something that says you see me."*
Great. No pressure.
I was thirty-two, married five years, and still clueless about what "thoughtful" meant when your wife already had everything she needed. The spark we used to have—those late nights where we'd tear each other's clothes off the second the door shut—had dimmed into something softer. Comfortable. Predictable. I loved her. God, I did. But sometimes I missed the way she used to look at me like she wanted to devour me whole.
I rounded the corner into the jewelry section of Macy's, scanning the glass cases for something that screamed *I'm still obsessed with you*, when I heard it.
"Alex?"
That voice. Low, teasing, like warm honey poured over gravel.
I turned, and there she was.
Lila.
My little sister stood three feet away, wrapped in a dark green coat that hugged her curves like it was custom-made. Her auburn hair was longer than I remembered, spilling over her shoulders in loose waves, and her lips—painted a deep, festive red—curved into a smirk that hit me square in the chest.
"Jesus," I said, laughing despite myself. "When did you get back in town?"
"Yesterday." She stepped forward, and before I could brace myself, she threw her arms around my neck. The hug was tight, familiar, but... different. Her body pressed against mine in a way it never had when we were kids. Soft. Warm. Her breasts brushed my chest, and I caught the scent of her—cinnamon and something darker, like cloves.
I pulled back too fast, my hands lingering on her waist a second longer than necessary. "You look... good."
Understatement of the century.
Lila had always been pretty in that effortless way—freckles across her nose, green eyes that tilted up at the corners like she was always in on a secret. But now? Now she was *devastating*. The kind of woman who made men forget their own names.
She raised an eyebrow. "You too, big brother. Still rocking the 'I woke up like this' vibe, I see."
I glanced down at myself—jeans, boots, a navy peacoat that Emily said made me look "distinguished." I hadn't shaved in two days. Distinguished, my ass.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, steering us toward a less crowded corner near the escalators.
"Same as you. Last-minute panic shopping." She held up a small silver bag. "Mom's getting a scarf. Dad's getting socks. And I still need something for my ex's new girlfriend, because apparently I'm a saint."
I snorted. "You broke up with what's-his-face?"
"Six months ago. He's already engaged. To a yoga instructor named *Sky*." She rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of something underneath—hurt, maybe. Or boredom. "Anyway. You shopping for Emily?"
"Yeah." I held up the earrings I'd been clutching like a lifeline. "Think she'll like these?"
Lila leaned in, her breath warm against my ear as she inspected them. "They're fine. Safe. But if you want to make her *weak in the knees*..." She straightened, her eyes glinting. "Come with me."
Before I could protest, she grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd. Her fingers were soft, her grip firm, and I followed like a damn puppy. We wove past perfume counters and pretzel stands until we reached *Victoria's Secret*.
I stopped dead. "Lila."
"What?" She grinned over her shoulder, already halfway inside. "You said thoughtful. This is *thoughtful*."
I hesitated, then followed. The store was a haze of pink and black lace, mannequins in barely-there lingerie, and the faint scent of vanilla and sex. Lila moved like she owned the place, plucking items off racks with practiced ease.
She held up a crimson bra, the cups sheer and delicate. "This color would look insane on her. And this—" She dangled a matching thong from one finger. "—is the kind of thing that says *I want to rip this off you with my teeth*."
My mouth went dry. "I... yeah. Okay."
She laughed, low and throaty, and tossed them into my arms. "Relax, Alex. I'm not trying to corrupt you. Much."
We spent the next hour like that—her leading, me trailing, my pulse kicking every time her hand brushed mine. She tried on a silk robe "just to see," twirling in the dressing room mirror while I stood outside like an idiot, trying not to imagine what was underneath. When she emerged, the robe clung to her hips, the neckline dipping low enough to reveal the curve of her breasts.
"What do you think?" she asked, doing a little spin.
I think I need a cold shower.
"Looks... expensive," I managed.
She smirked. "You're hopeless."
Eventually, we ended up at a café in the middle of the mall, two hot cocoas steaming between us. The crowd had thinned slightly, but the holiday chaos still buzzed around us—kids screaming, parents yelling, Mariah Carey warbling about what she wanted for Christmas.
Lila wrapped her hands around her mug, her nails painted a deep plum. "So. How's married life?"
"Good," I said automatically. Then, quieter: "Really good. Emily's... she's everything."
Lila tilted her head. "But?"
"No but." I shrugged. "Just... routine, I guess. We're busy. Work. Life. You know."
She nodded, her gaze dropping to my left hand—my wedding ring glinting under the café lights. "I get it. I thought I had that with Derek. The forever thing. Turns out forever's shorter when your fiancé's sleeping with his Pilates instructor."
I winced. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." She sipped her cocoa, leaving a faint red stain on the rim. "I'm better off. Just... lonely, sometimes."
The word hung between us, heavy and unexpected. Lonely. I knew the feeling, even if I didn't say it out loud.
She glanced up, her eyes catching mine. "You ever think about... before? When we were kids?"
"All the time," I said, too quickly. "You were a pain in my ass."
She kicked me under the table, laughing. "Liar. You used to follow me around like a lost puppy."
"Because you stole my Xbox controller."
"Details."
We finished our drinks, the conversation drifting into safer waters—our parents, her new job in the city, my promotion at the firm. But the air between us had shifted. Charged. Every brush of her knee against mine under the table sent a jolt straight to my groin.
As we stood to leave, the crowd surged around us. Someone bumped into me from behind, and I stumbled forward—right into Lila. My hands shot out to steady her, landing on her hips. She gasped, her body flush against mine, her breasts pressed to my chest.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Her lips parted, just slightly. Her breath was warm against my neck.
"Sorry," I muttered, but I didn't let go.
She didn't either.
Then the moment broke—someone shouted about a sale on TVs, and the spell shattered. I stepped back, my hands dropping like I'd been burned.
Lila smoothed her coat, her cheeks pink. "So. You heading home?"
"Yeah. Emily's waiting." I held up the Victoria's Secret bag like a shield. "Gotta wrap these."
She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm crashing at my old place tonight. It's empty—Mom and Dad are in Florida. You could... come by. Help me wrap Mom's scarf. Drink more cocoa. For old times' sake."
I should've said no.
I should've gone home to my wife, kissed her under the mistletoe, and pretended the last two hours hadn't just rewired something deep inside me.
Instead, I heard myself say: "Yeah. Okay."
Lila smiled, slow and knowing.
"See you tonight, big brother."