Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kat
We keep exploring the holiday market, but the tension from that jacket thing with Robbie is still there, like a spark that’s about to burst into flames.
Asher’s hand rests at the small of my back as we weave through the crowd, a casual touch that feels anything but casual.
Every time his thumb brushes against my spine through the fabric of his jacket, which I’m still wearing, shivers run through me that have nothing to do with the December cold.
Each little pressure of his palm as he steers me around a cluster of people, each time I accidentally brush against him as we navigate through the market, makes me too aware of the contact between us.
He still hasn’t brought up last night. Hasn’t acknowledged what we did at all, hasn’t mentioned it even once.
But I can feel it between us with every look, every touch.
It’s there in the way his fingers linger a second too long, in the way his gaze keeps dropping to my mouth when he thinks I’m not looking.
I stop in front of the market’s centerpiece, needing a second to catch my breath and calm down before I lose my mind entirely.
A sprawling canopy of lights is strung high between the bare oak branches of the old trees, thousands of tiny bulbs sparkling above us like we’re standing under the night sky.
It’s magical, the whole scene glowing golden and warm.
Families and couples are gathered beneath it, everyone looking up at the display as they ooh and ahh softly.
I tip my head back, a bit awed by the sight. “This is incredible. I forgot how beautiful they make this every year. They must spend days getting all these lights up.”
When I glance at Asher to see if he’s looking too, his gaze isn’t on the lights at all. His eyes are fixed on me, dark with something that makes heat pool low in my belly.
“You’re supposed to be looking at the lights,” I whisper.
His voice comes out rough, almost a growl. “Maybe I don’t want to.”
He doesn’t look away from me, just keeps staring like he can’t help himself, as if I’m more interesting than the thousands of twinkling lights above us.
My heart picks up speed, pounding against my ribs so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
Our eyes lock for a long moment, the air between us electric and taut.
Then we both slowly break eye contact, and I tilt my head up to look at the lights again—although I’m not really seeing them anymore, my brain too busy obsessing over a man I’m supposed to be fake dating.
We keep moving through the market after that, but I can’t get my heart rate to slow back down. Still, I try to inject some normalcy into it all, to act like everything is fine and I’m not slowly unraveling. I point out one of the ornaments I was looking at earlier, the hand-painted glass snowflake.
“That one’s really pretty,” I say, just to have something to talk about that isn’t last night or the way I can still feel the phantom touch of his hand on my back.
“Yeah, it is.” Asher turns to the booth owner. “How much is it?”
I blink. “What are you doing?”
He pulls out his wallet as the guy at the booth tells him the price, handing over cash like it’s nothing. “Buying it for you.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I reach out to stop him, but he’s already taking the wrapped ornament from the vendor.
“It’ll look nice on the tree,” he says, reaching over to tuck it carefully into his coat pocket.
Something flutters in my stomach at the casual way he said it, like it’s our tree. Which I guess it is, since we’re both staying at Samantha’s property for the holidays, and he helped pick it out and decorate it. But still, it hits me in a way I didn’t expect it to.
I look down at the pocket he tucked it into, not quite sure what to say or how to interpret the gesture. “Thanks. That’s really sweet of you.”
“Of course. I mean, it’s the holiday season, after all.” He shrugs, and I wish like hell that I could guess what he’s thinking.
I try to enjoy the rest of the market as we keep wandering the booths, I really do.
The festive holiday atmosphere and the cheerful music are things I’ve always loved about coming here since I was a kid.
But I’m way too distracted. I can hardly pay attention to any of it anymore, can’t appreciate the beauty or the joy around us.
My mind keeps wandering, my focus keeps drifting.
All I can think about is Asher. The way he’s kept touching me all evening, whether it’s a hand on my back, his fingers threaded through mine, or his body positioned protectively between me and the crowd when people rush past.
At first, I thought maybe it was because we’re in public, that’s he’s putting on a little extra just to really sell our fake dating thing… but it feels like something else.
It feels like he can’t stop touching me, like he’s physically pulled toward me the same way I am to him. Like he’s hungry for more contact, more closeness. Every time there are a few seconds where we’re not touching, his hand finds its way back to me. My back, my elbow, my hand.
It’s driving me out of my mind. Everything else seems like a blur, until there’s only the weight of his hand on my hip or the way his thumb sometimes traces small circles without him seeming to realize he’s doing it.
“I’m about ready to go home,” I finally say, blurting the words out in a way that seems to startle him.
It’s almost dark now, the sun setting early the way it does in December. The market lights glow brighter against the darkness, creating pockets of golden warmth in the cold night.
Asher looks down at me, his gaze searching my face. “Okay. You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you too cold?” His hand comes up to my shoulder, concern filling his handsome features.
“Oh, no.” I’m still wearing his jacket, wrapped in his warmth and his scent, which is only adding to the silent torture. “I’m just… ready to go.”
He nods, giving me another one of those loaded looks I can’t interpret, as if he knows exactly why I want to leave, and it has nothing to do with being tired or cold.
“Did you drive?” he asks as we start heading toward the parking area.
“No, I walked. It was nice on the way here, but I didn’t really think about the way back, to be honest.”
“It’s fine. I’ll drive you back.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
We head to his car, and the walk through the thinning crowd feels endless. I really need to get home, take the coldest shower I can manage, and then… god, I don’t even know what. I don’t know what it will take to extinguish the low level arousal that’s been simmering inside me all damn day.
When we finally get into Asher’s rental and he starts the engine, letting it warm up, the silence feels suffocating.
It’s as if all the oxygen is being sucked out of the air, shrinking the space inside the car down to nothing.
If there was a small unspoken thing between us this morning, something we were both carefully ignoring, now it feels huge.
Massive. Like there’s no room for anything else in the cramped confines of the car.
He pulls out of the parking lot and heads toward the cabin, and neither of us speaks. The only sounds are the engine, the heater blowing warm air, and the low sound of the music coming through the speakers.
My hands twist in my lap, my heart racing.
I don’t know what to do, what to say. Part of me wants to pretend nothing happened, that last night was just a weird moment we can move past. But is this what it’s going to be like for the rest of the holidays if we try to ignore it?
Because I don’t think I can handle that.
When we pull up outside the cabin, he turns off the engine, but neither of us moves. The silence stretches, heavy and thick, as we sit in the darkened car.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. The words burst out of me before I consciously decide to speak.
“Are we just never going to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” His voice is even and neutral, but I can hear the strain underneath.
“Last night. What happened between us.” I turn in my seat to face him fully, my heart pounding. “The way things keep happening between us.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stares down at the steering wheel. “Kat…”
“Because I can’t keep pretending this tension doesn’t exist when it’s driving me insane.
” My frustration spills out, all the confusion and desire I’ve been trying to suppress bubbling over.
“Every time you touch me, every time you look at me like that, I feel like I’m going to combust. Like I’m going to spontaneously catch fire.
And I know you feel it too. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you touch me. ”
Asher drags in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. When he turns to look at me, his blue-gray eyes are blazing with heat, but they’re still a bit shuttered too. “It’s not supposed to be this complicated.”
“But it is,” I push back, gesturing with my hands. “It clearly is. And ignoring it isn’t making it go away.”
Silence stretches between us again. It looks like he’s struggling with himself, some internal battle playing out behind his eyes. His jaw clenches and unclenches, his hands gripping the steering wheel.
My heart is pounding so hard it hurts, but somehow I find the courage to speak again.
“Maybe we should just have sex.” The words come out quieter than I meant for them to, but at least my voice is steady.
I force myself to hold his gaze. “It doesn’t have to be more than that.
But there’s obviously this attraction between us, and it’s driving me insane pretending there isn’t. So maybe we could… adjust our deal.”
His brows draw together a little, the only shift in his expression.
“We can keep fake dating,” I continue, the words coming faster now. “Nothing about that has to change. But we can do other things too. No strings attached, no feelings. Just… sex. To get it out of our systems.”
Asher lets out a ragged breath, his eyes burning into mine. “Is that really what you want?”
I nod, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Yes. So fucking badly.”
The confession hangs in the air between us. I’ve never been this direct with anyone, never put myself out there like this. But I’m tired of pretending, tired of dancing around this chemistry between us.
He hesitates for one more long moment, and I wait, my pulse galloping in my throat. I can see the exact moment he makes his decision, the moment his control finally snaps. Something shifts in his expression, the careful restraint falling away.
“Fuck it.”
He reaches for me across the console, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, pulling me roughly toward him. Then his mouth is on mine, and this kiss burns with hunger and days of pent-up need. It’s hard and desperate, nothing held back this time.
I kiss him back with equal fervor, my hands tangling in his dark hair as I try to get closer, to eliminate every inch of space between us.
He tastes like everything I’ve been craving, and I can’t get enough.
My heart pounds so hard that it makes me feel dizzy, and I almost feel like I’m floating as I lose myself in the possessive wildness of his kiss.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. His thumb strokes over my swollen lips, tracing their curves.
“Your place or mine?” he asks, his tone low and hungry.
“Mine,” I breathe. “Definitely mine.”
Because I want him in my bed, in my space. I want to wake up tomorrow morning with his scent on my pillows and the memory of his hands on my skin.
Even if it’s just for a little while.
Even if it’s just to get it out of our systems.
Even if I suspect it’s going to ruin me for anyone else.