Page 20 of Our Bright Christmas Town
“Of course.” No humour, just simple sincerity. “Ash—yes. I’m not suddenly going to change my mind, okay?”
“Okay,” I echoed, thoughts a little slippery, fingers fumbling with the keys.For fuck’s sake, act like you’ve been there before.Except—not like this. Not with him.
I got the door open and pulled him along, sudden warmth draping around our shoulders. The rich, faintly sweet scent of the well-worn wooden stairs settled me slightly as I led the wayup to my flat. We were barely inside, gloves ditched, the door swinging shut, before I pressed him back against the entrance wall and shoved the winter coat off his shoulders. His hands grappled for my jacket with a tiny, frustrated noise. I shrugged it off, then returned to kiss him—slowly at first, savouring the way he tilted into me, each shift of our bodies a revelation.
If tonight was all I’d get…
No. He’d told me it was more, and he’d never lied to me.
“C’mon,” I murmured, hands slipping under the back of his jumper, fingers fanning out across his skin. In the dim light filtering through from the living room, he looked like something out of a dream. “Got a perfectly good bed in the other room. Built it myself and all.”
“Hot,” he said, voice a hint rough. It didn’t sound like a joke, and I huffed out a breathless laugh.
“Seriously, that does it for you? The idea of me making furniture?”
“Competent hands.” His smile was all angelic innocence but for the teasing glint in his eyes.
“So I’ve been told,” I said and crashed our mouths back together. My fingers threaded into the short hair at the back of his neck, instantly addicted to the way he let me lead—staggering back blindly when I steered him further into the flat, past the lit Christmas tree we’d set up together just two days ago. Before everything had changed.
“Nice tree,” he squeezed into the space between one kiss and the next. “Someone smart must have encouraged you to get it.”
I nipped at his bottom lip. “How’s a thank-you orgasm sound?”
“Uh.” His attention fixed on my mouth, voice gone deliciously husky. “Yeah. I guess that’d be fine. Big fan of orgasms, generally speaking.”
For a second, I stopped to take him in—golden-hued in the glow of fairy lights, mouth slightly parted, eyes wide. I’d been in love with him for maybe half my life, and from one minute to the next, he was within my reach. Figuratively.Literally.It still felt surreal, damn near impossible.
“I love you,” I said, low like a prayer, the last words uttered before stepping off a ledge and into thin air.
“Me too.” He sounded so sure, and something about that cracked me wide open. “Love you, want you. I know it took me ages, but Ash, it’s like… I’m pretty sure it’s always been you. I just didn’t realise it.”
My throat was too tight, a weird, dizzying weightlessness in my bones. No words I could grasp, everything just a little too much, so I gripped his arms and nudged him towards my bedroom. He went easily, his eyes on me as if he didn’t intend to look at anyone else again, ever.
We didn’t turn on any lights as we stumbled into the room. The glow of the tree filtering through the doorway cast everything in a dreamlike haze, shadows dripping across his face as he fell back onto the bed. My heart twisted in my throat.
“Kieran,” I managed, not even sure what I was trying to tell him.
Maybe he understood me even so because his eyes slid half-closed for a moment, head tilting back to expose his throat. “Anything,” he murmured. “Anything you want, Ash. I’m yours.”
Oh, God.
I bent down to kiss him again, and he immediately dragged me into his lap, fingers curling into the meat of my thighs with a low, desperate sound. So fucking good, better than any half-conscious fantasy I’d had. I nudged him onto his back and crawled on top, pure fucking perfection in how he spread his legs so I could settle between them.
“Clothes?” he asked, and yeah, yes.
I tugged off my jumper in one swift motion and tossed it aside, returned to help him slide his T-shirt over his head. Pale skin, the faintest suggestion of abs revealed in the distant golden gleam that filled the room. He might have lost some weight since moving to London, and the thought filled me with a wistful sort of protectiveness. Hands gripping his forearms, I pressed him down into the mattress, and he let me kiss him like we had all the time in the world. When I ground my hips down, his mouth fell open, a shaky breath escaping into the beautiful silence. My head went quiet.
“I’m yours too,” I told him, because I wasn’t sure if I’d said it yet—it seemed so self-evident.
His smile could have powered the entire country. “Prove it?” Soft and playful, like all those times he’d nudged me just a bit beyond my comfort zone.Still us,I heard.
I quirked an eyebrow at him.Challenge accepted. First, though—shoes, trousers, belts. I shucked mine and caught his hands when he tried to mimic me. “Can I?”
“Please.” He relaxed into the sheets, on full display. All mine, and it felt primal to even think it, my caveman brain staking a claim. Something must have shown on my face because his lips edged up at the corners. “What?”
“Just trying to convince myself this is real,” I said.
He pinched me. Really should have seen it coming.
