Chapter 18
Asher
Rumors swirl around Ford and Harper like leaves in the wind. Every time I turn, there’s someone whispering about another sighting of them together—Ford helping her with something or spending time with her family. It makes my stomach churn.
Now, I spot them arriving at the tree lighting side by side.
They pause on the street, exchanging words I can’t catch over Kenzie’s incessant chatter.
Then, he takes her hand, guiding her through the crowd, and I finally get a clear view of them next to Joel.
Harper leans against Ford, who has his arms wrapped protectively around her, his hand resting on her belly.
“Do you think they’re sleeping together?” I blurt out.
Kenzie frowns, following my gaze. “Who? Harper and Ford?”
“Yeah.”
“Who cares?”
“I do. She’s my best friend.”
She nudges my arm, forcing me to meet her eyes. “I was her best friend, remember?”
“That’s different.”
“Sure. But honestly, it annoys me that no one seems to see through her fake holier-than-thou act. She pretends what happened between us doesn’t bother her.”
A flicker of hope ignites inside me. “Is that what this is? A front?”
“What do you mean?”
“This thing with Ford. Is she really into him, or is she just trying to show everyone she’s over me?”
Her expression sharpens as she crosses her arms. “Why does it matter to you?”
“It bothers me.”
“Because you’re still into Harper?”
I scoff, attempting to sound convincing. “What? No! Of course not. I’m happy with you, Kenzie. Happier than I’ve ever been. But it feels low for her to go after my best friend like this. I think she’s trying to make me jealous.”
“You really think so?”
“She probably knows I’m here and wants to make me look bad. Hell, she might be using poor Ford to help her play this game to win me back.”
As the crowd thickens, the view of the tree—and Ford and Harper—vanishes. Kenzie rolls her eyes and leads me down an alley between two storefronts. “I wouldn’t put it past her. She embarrassed herself at my bridal shower.”
I narrow my eyes. “She was at your bridal shower?”
“Seriously, Asher, you never listen. Yes, she was. Ford came to pick her up, claiming it was for Gina, but I heard they went out instead.”
“Like a date?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Figures,” I say, shaking my head. “Everyone knows Ford’s always been jealous of me. He can’t have you, so he settles for my leftovers to feel validated. It’s pathetic.”
She laughs. “He’s tried hitting on me before, but I shut him down. He’s so not my type.”
This catches my attention. “He’s hit on you? Recently?”
“It’s been pretty constant since high school. We went to prom together, remember? He was way too friendly once we went public. I think he wants me, but he knows I won’t give up what we have for him.”
“It’s just sad.”
“He’s too broody. I prefer a man who stands out in a crowd.”
A smile spreads across my face as I pull her into my arms and kiss her. “Yeah? What else do you like in a man?”
She grabs my collar and yanks me backward until my shoulders hit brick.
My fingers find the gap between her jacket and sweater, climbing over goosebumps.
The wool scratches my wrists as I reach higher, expecting the band of fabric that isn’t there.
Just skin. Just her. She inhales sharply, arching toward me.
“Jesus, Asher,” she whispers, her breath visible in the December air. “Did you stick your hands in snow?”
“This is exactly why I love you. Harper would never have sex with me in public.” Kenzie pushes my hands away from beneath her shirt and glares at me.
“Is that why you think I’m better than Harper? Because I’ll screw you in a dark alley?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“If you really wanted to get inside me, it would have been better not to mention Harper at all.”
Groaning, I run my hand through my hair, buying time. Her eyes narrow, but the corner of her mouth twitches upward. She shifts her weight to one hip, waiting, the same way she did last week when I compared her ass to Harper’s and she made me elaborate for twenty minutes before letting me touch it.
“That’s not how I meant it, baby,” I say. “You’re better than Harper in pretty much every way.”
“Pretty much?”
Poor choice of words. “In every way.”
“How so?”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “You’re hotter,” I reply, kissing her again and feeling her up. “And sexier.”
“Yeah? Is that all?”
The corner of her mouth curls upward, revealing that dimple on her left cheek that appears only when she’s about to get what she wants. Her eyes narrow to glittering slits as she leans in close enough that I catch the cinnamon on her breath.
Her fingernails trace the seam of my jeans, and I feel myself straining against the denim. My teeth find my lower lip as my breath catches. “Is that right?”
“All I want is to be with you. I’m so glad I left Harper because I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you, Kenzie.”
“Naked or in general?”
Her hand slips into my jeans, tugging at me, and I gasp. “Both.”
“Both?”
“I love being around you when we’re dressed, but being naked with you is the greatest experience of my life.”
Her smile widens, revealing teeth that gleam in the dim light. She reaches under her skirt, the fabric rustling as she tugs her leggings down to her knees. My fingers tremble against my zipper, clumsy with cold and anticipation. “Tell me how I’m better than Harper,” she demands, voice husky.
She braces her palms against the rough brick wall, hair falling forward as she looks back at me with half-lidded eyes.
The December air bites at my exposed skin.
Her warmth envelops me, a sharp contrast that makes me gasp.
My mind goes blank, searching for words that won’t come.
Her muscles tense, halting my movement, and she twists her neck to fix me with an expectant stare.
“Examples, Asher.”
“You’re a much better cook than she ever was.”
Her hands move, and I thrust against her again. “And?”
“You’re so much prettier.”
“And better in the sack.”
“Way better,” I mutter, holding her close as I reach my climax. “You’re so perfect, Kenzie.”
She purrs, pressing her ass back against me as I thrust, helping me along. My mouth forms the words she wants to hear, automatic as breathing. “You’re everything, Kenzie. Everything.”
Her fingers dig into the brick wall, leaving white marks on her fingertips. She turns her head just enough that I can see the victorious gleam in her eye. I match it with a grin of my own, the one I’ve practiced in the mirror.
Later, as we walk hand-in-hand through the festival, I catch myself staring at Harper’s profile across the crowd. The way she laughs at something Ford says—no calculation in it, just pure reaction—makes something twist in my chest.