Page 19 of Our Bright Christmas Town
His long-suffering tone made me bite down on a smile. He loved his parents; they just didn’t always see eye to eye. “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll tell Mum and Shelly to brush up on, like, their fruit salad terminology.”
Ashby made a questioning sound, tilting even further into me.
I acted like I didn’t notice, like it was normal, like my insides weren’t trying to weave themselves into a decorative bow as I affected a posh accent. “Oh! I taste a hint of ripe pear, with just a touch of rotting apples plucked in late October.”
He pressed even closer, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Ah, yes. Notes of compost and regret, if I’m not mistaken.”
“The vintage of champions.” I sniffed the cold air. “Now, the true question is—swirl, spit, or swallow?”
He laughed, and this, yes—this wasus, still. Only we’d gained another dimension. As evidenced when he shot me a quick, probing look, the kind that always preceded him rising to a dare. “Well, Kieran,” he said, each syllable deliberate. “A gentleman always swallows.”
I inhaled through a sudden tug in my gut. Relief, hope,something. “Does he?” I asked, careful to keep it easy. “I may need hands-on instruction.”
“Right.” His attention dropped to my mouth, voice gone abruptly quiet. “It’s a tough job, but I guess someone’s gotta do it.”
Now, something in me screamed.Now, come on.I held very still, matching his tone. “It’d be a service to the people.”
“No.” His gaze slid back up to hold mine. “It’d be quite selfish, really. I don’t share.”
“Good,” I told him—a whisper, a confession.
And whatever he’d been waiting for… He must have found it because this time, he was the one who moved first—pulling me in, as naturally as breathing, like he’d been rehearsing this moment for years. His gloved hand angled my chin so he could claim my mouth after a gentle nip at my lower lip.Please, yes.Electricity jolted down my spine as he pressed forward, deliberate, so our hips nudged—no space left to hide.
He felt like coming home.
CHAPTER 7
Ashby
This was… different, God. Nothing like that first kiss, when I’d been blindsided by it all, my world tipped on its side. Now, I set the pace—and Kieran surrendered, hands lightly resting on my waist. Trusting my lead.
We shared each swallow of air, our mouths breaking for fractured seconds before we collided again. Years, fuck. I’d spent so many years uselessly imagining something like this—Kieran looking at me like his reality had narrowed to just the two of us, melting into every kiss even as winter cold pressed in around us. Heat pounded under my skin.
Not a dream.
Minutes later, with icy air creeping underneath our clothes, we started moving again. It was slow progress, pausing every few steps for another kiss. When I fisted his coat to pull him in, he gave a soft, breathy laugh—joy or disbelief or both.
“Come home with me?” I asked, our foreheads pressed together, then wondered if it was too much, too fast. He’d only just realised he liked guys, maybe even loved me,probably.
“Yeah,” he said before I could backtrack. “Yes.”
He angled his head for another kiss and I moved into it—more urgent than before, deeper. Both of us stumbling, and hisback hit the brick wall of the local coffee shop, long since closed. He chuckled and held onto me.
“You okay?” I asked anyway.
“Brilliant.” The distant glow of a streetlamp revealed his smile and the faint flush to his cheeks, snow settling in his hair only to dissolve. “Just, feels like we’re a pair of bloody teenagers. Like, clinically inadvisable dopamine levels.”
“Yeah, baby. Talk science to me.” I chuckled under my breath, stupidly happy or maybe just stupid, and nudged my nose against his. Cheesy, God. But it was Kieran, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. Just cupped the back of his head and guided him in again, swallowing his sigh.
Eventually, we shuffled on. Another few steps, another greedy kiss on this quiet street. My neighbours’ obnoxious Christmas decorations cycled in a weird colour pattern, blue and red and green, like Santa had decided to throw a low-budget rave.
“Subtle,” Kieran commented, tucked firmly against my side.
“Maybe they made a bet.” I turned my head to watch reflected colour spark in his eyes.
“That they could fit an entire nightclub light show on their balcony?”
I gave him a deliberately smarmy smile, pulse hammering in my ears. “Pretty sure it’s got nothing on the fireworks we’re about to set off in my bed. If you’re interested?”
