Page 15 of A Kiss For The Holidays

“Look, Ash, I can see you don’t want to talk about it but I need to. I need you to know where I stand.” He nods, chewing on his bottom lip, but doesn’t say anything.

I guess I’ll do all the talking then.

“I didn’t know how you felt. I missed all the signs, but I wish I had known soonerand a part of me wants to be mad you didn’t say anything. I want to be mad that you’d rather put a huge gap between us then tell me the truth and that it took getting stranded in a snowstorm for you to be honest with me. But I’m not mad. There has never been a day in my life when I have been angry with you and that’s not changing now.”

Reaching out, I take Asher's hand, linking our pinkies together as I look into his deep green eyes. “I don’t have all the answers yet. This all came out of the blue - for me anyway - and I’ve not had a chance to process, but what I do know is that I do not want any space between us. You’re my Asher, my best friend, we are close and that should never change. And as for the sex, I don’t regret any of what happened this morning.”

Asher’s eyes flash and a small smile plays on his lips. “You don’t? I really didn’t mean to come on to you while you slept.”

I chuckle. “I know you didn’t and no, I don’t regret it, not one tiny bit. I enjoyed myself. A lot. Like ahugefucking amount. Like I would really like to do it again.”

That surprises him, if the way his eyes widen and his lips part is an indication that he wasn’t expecting those words from me. He shifts again in his seat and my eyes trail down his body, coming to rest on his jeans and the noticeable bulge there.

“But you’re not gay?” Asher whispers the word ‘gay’ as though someone is around to hear it and he doesn’t want to out me.

Shaking my head, I lean a little closer, keeping our fingers entwined. “Honestly? I don’t know what I am, Ash. I’ve had sex with a few girls and I’ve never been attracted to guys before - sure, I’ve appreciated the physique of a few and there was that one kiss during spin the bottle - but not having felt sexually attracted to a man before doesn’t mean anything for how I feel now. If I need a label - which I'd rather not - then maybe I'm bisexual or pansexual. And I meant what I said - I enjoyed being with you and I want to do it again. Would you want that? Maybe even try some other… things?”

Asher blushes at my question. I don’t want to point out the fact that he’s a virgin and that I know he’s never done anything with anyone nor do I want to draw attention to the fact that my pulse quickens at the notion of being the person to give Asher all his firsts. And when we leave this cabin….no, I’m not thinking of what comes after. After we leave our little snowy bubble, because I’m not there yet.

“Other things?” He quirks his brow and it’s me who blushes this time, my body heating from the inside out. Asher scoots closer to me and I drop his hand, running my own along his jean clad thighs. “What do you have in mind?” His voice is husky and I want nothing more than to slam my lips to his and swallow his moans. I bet he’d taste like peaches and honey and my mouth waters at the thought.

Leaning forward, I ghost my lips over his as my hand edges higher. Teasing Asher, I pull back when I answer, “Anything you can think of. The world is your oyster.” My hand continues further up until it’s resting gently over his jean clad cock. A beautiful gasp escapes his lips as I rub his hard bulge, my own dick throbbing and begging for attention. Asher leans forward, resting his forehead against mine and closes his eyes as I walk my fingers to his waistband, popping the button with one hand as the other comes up to rest on the back of his neck. Reaching up, Asher threads his hand through my hair and moves so that his lips are pressed to the sensitive spot below my right ear. I pull at his zipper as he kisses up my cheek then uses his grip in my hair to tug my mouth towards his.

I’m seconds away from pressing our lips together when Asher’s phone rings, the loud ringtone assigned to his mother blaring through the quiet cabin. My phone died sometime during the night, leaving me thankful that Asher is so much better at keeping his charged.

“You have got to be kidding me!” I exclaim, pulling away from my best friend who is looking at me with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his cardigan. “Of all the times to suddenly get a signal again.”

Reaching for the phone, which Asher left on the side table, I hand it to him and flop back on the sofa with a sigh as he answers. His jeans are still undone and he hastily does them up as he speaks.

“Mum? Can you hear me?” He puts the phone on loudspeaker so that I can listen. There’s static on the other end of the line before his mother’s voice comes through - broken but we can make out a bit of what she’s saying.

“Another two…..scratch, crackle…nights, then the storm should..crackle, crackle…enough to clear the roads…..scratch, crackle….to collect you.”

“Thanks mum, I can’t really hear you, the line is bad. Dalton and I are fine. We’re safe and warm and we have food.” The line goes silent and I think we’ve lost the connection again until his mum speaks.

“I’m sorry you won’t be…..crackle, crackle…..Christmas Day.” Sadness at missing my favourite holiday with my family washes over me and Ash must sense it because he moves in closer, taking my pinky with his.

“I know, mum,” he says, “But we’ll celebrate when we’re together again. Okay?” He doesn’t get any response besides another crackle and static before the line goes dead completely. Asher throws the phone on the sofa next to me.

The mood in the room has shifted a little so I don’t return to removing my best friend’s clothing. Instead, I pull him closer and turn us so we are lyingcuddled together staring at the fire. He feels so good nestled in my arms, that I am tempted to close my eyes and sleep the afternoon away.

“I know you love a big family Christmas,” Asher starts. “But how about we make our own, ‘trapped in a cabin’ Christmas fun? It could be likeHome Alone; we’re separated from our families and must do our own thing this festive season. Minus the bad guys.”

“And minus the Christmas films, and snack foods,” I point out. “And minus a tree, and decorations and presents.”

Asher rolls off the sofa with a thud, then stands and turns towards me, a wide grin on his face as he rights his glasses atop his nose. “Pass me the phone.” He reaches out his hand and I place the device in his open palm. He browses for a moment before“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas”by Michael Bublé plays through the speaker. I open my mouth to ask when he downloaded Christmas songs, but he stops me with a hand in the air. “Do not ask. Now hop up and help me find ways to bring some festive cheer to this little log cabin.”

My lips twitch but it’s useless trying to fight back my smile. “Asher Ryan, you don’t even like Christmas music.” A rosy red blush runs down his neck at that statement and I press a little more. “Did you download these because you know I like them?” We don’t have Wi-Fi here which means he did it before, maybe back at the villa? How many things has Asher done for me over the years that I have completely missed. The thought both warms my heart while also sending a pang of regret through me - he really does love me and I really had no idea.

“No, now keep quiet and come help me.”

Chapter 13

Asher

“It breaks my heart to do this,” I say to Dalton as I tear pages from the book in my hand. Next to me, he’s folding the pages that I hand him while “All I Want For Christmas” by Mariah Carey plays through my phone. With no luck finding decorations in any of the cabins’ few cupboards and storage areas, I had this brilliant idea to make snowflake decorations with paper. It was something we used to do as kids in the run up to Christmas. Failing to find scraps of paper, Dalton suggested we use one of the worn out books piled beneath the windowsill. This one, titled,An Austrian Adventure,already had a broken spine and torn cover as well as a multitude of water stains. Still, I don’t love the idea of ripping it to shreds.

Dalton rolls his eyes, his lips set into a huge, beaming smile. “You’re so dramatic, it’s just a book.” Dalton and I may be best friends, two peas in a pod, but we view the world so differently at times. Whereas I am inwardly cringing at every page I remove, vowing to replace the book, I am not sure when the last time was that I saw Dalton actually read. He’d much rather kick a ball in the park or go swimming in the lake than sit and lose himself between the pages.

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