Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

ASHER

T he atmosphere when I arrive at the office is frosty. Mia seems awkward about running into me last night, staring down at her desk every time I walk by. It’s preferable to her ogling me, at least. Derek has his headphones on, typing away. The man produces good work, which is irritating. If he were a subpar employee, I’d be able to find an excuse to fire his ass.

I stand at my office door, watching him as his fingers fly across the keyboard. Holly lied to me, saying that HR called Derek in and he had given her a written apology. He’d been at his desk for five hours straight. She doesn’t want to confront the issue.

I know it’s not my place. It’s her choice. Standing here, watching him, it’s dangerous. It makes me think about tearing the headphones off and smacking him across the face with them.

“If you ever come near my Holly again, I’ll break your nose.”

Then what? Holly hears about it and hates me even more. That’s the last thing I need. Or, worse, people will ask why I’m getting so angry. Word gets back to Dan. He learns that his sister and his best friend have betrayed him.

Derek takes off his headphones. Maybe he saw me in the screen’s reflection. Or maybe, like prey, he sensed me staring at him. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

“No,” I grunt, slamming my office door.

I grab the Secret Santa phone, glaring at the screen. Again, the ludicrous idea comes to me that this isn’t Holly. There are too many similarities: first, the story about her dad, and then the Derek stuff. If this isn’t Holly, I should enter the lottery because fate is indisputably having some fun with me.

Later, I’m in Dan’s home gym, sweating so much my clothes stick to me, steam rising from my body. I’m working out hard to forget what I did earlier today. I texted my Secret Santa four more times without a reply, acting like I am suddenly a goddamn teenager.

Me: What exactly did HR say?

Me: What did he say in his written apology?

Me: Let me know if you need anything.

Me: Are you ignoring me, Miss Goody Two-shoes?

It would’ve been unthinkable to me not long ago to text somebody so much without a reply. I’ve never been the type to hound a woman. With Mia, my ex, not my employee, she was the one chasing me. It never felt like this.

I jump off the treadmill. I’ve already hit the weights. In the wall mirror, I look wild, ready for a fight. That’s what I want—to hurt Derek physically for hurting my Snowflake.

I walk down the hallway, hearing the shower coming from Holly’s room, most likely the en suite. Dan’s still in the office. Maybe it’s the exercise endorphins or wanting to make our relationship— friendship —fun again, not so intense. Perhaps I just want to get her back for my first day here when she moved my clothes.

I decide to prank her.

I’ll go into her en suite and do the whole flush-the-chain trick, turning her deliciously hot shower water ice-cold.

I grin. Yeah. This could be how we turn everything back to normal again. Pushing her bedroom door open, I move across the room, then the en suite, ensuring my back is to the shower as I approach the toilet. The last thing I need is to see her naked. That would seriously break any resolve I’ve got.

This is about fun, not lust. Sidestepping across the bathroom, I lay my hand on the toilet handle. Before I press it, the shower stops.

I missed my chance, dammit. I better get out of here before she accuses me of being a peeper.

“Asher?”

This is bad. The smile vanishes from my face.

“I was going to flush the toilet when you were in the shower,” I tell her.

“Relax. I know you’re not a Peeping Tom.”

“Seems like I missed my chance. If you let me crabwalk my way out of here, I’m happy to pretend this never happened if you are.”

“But aren’t you tempted to look?”

My dick hardens, my lust burning, my seed swelling in my balls like it’s trying to get me to take an insane risk. Dan could come home at any moment. He probably won’t make a beeline for his sister’s bathroom, but it’s still wrong.

“Why would you ask me that?” I snap.

“Because I’m genuinely curious.”

“You know the answer.”

Her voice is breathy, moaning. She sounds as horny as I am. My gym shorts do little to conceal how excited she’s making me. If I turn around and see her perfect, curvy, naked body, I’ll lose it, and she’ll know about it.

“I don’t. That’s why I asked,” she says sweetly.

“I’m more than tempted,” I tell her. “There’s nothing I want more than to turn around and see you naked. Your big, luscious breasts, your thick, juicy legs, your nipples, your core, all of you dripping wet. Your messy hair, your confident, sassy expression. I’m getting hot just thinking about it, but you told me we had to pretend the kiss never happened.”

“Then leave,” she murmurs, “but I want you to know, if you looked, I wouldn’t be mad. So if you leave, you’re making the choice not to see me naked.”

“Are we going to pretend this never happened, too?”

“Yes, I think so, but it’s so hot, knowing how badly you want me. You’re shaking, Asher.”

“That’s because I’m using every shred of willpower I’ve got not to turn around,” I growl.

“How’s that going for you?”

I turn, knowing it’s wrong, knowing I might regret it.

When I see her, regret is the furthest thing from my mind. Her eyes are wide open, wild, and manic as if something’s possessed her. Droplets of water slide from her face, down her neck, over her round mounds, clinging to her tender peaks. Her hips show her juiciness—her legs, her pussy.

“Fucking hell,” I growl. “You’re driving me insane. Why did you let me see you? Fuck. I’m going to explode just looking at you, Holly.”

“This is wrong,” she murmurs.

“I know.”

That doesn’t stop me from walking toward her, my hands trembling as I reach out and slide my fingers over her hips. She gasps and sinks against me, wrapping her arms around me. Her naked body presses against my sweatiness. I groan as I find her lips.

Her moans make me wild as I slide my hands from her hips to her thick ass. I massage her nakedness, then take one hand and bring it to her core. Her haven is wet, not just from the shower. She rubs against me, grinding her lips, her clit, her lust.

“Fuck,” she moans. “Asher … oh … oh …”

“You’re irresistible.”

I kiss down her neck, then suck on her nipples, never taking my hand from her horny, hot pussy. I rub faster, obsessed with the sound of her folds, the wetness of her desire. She bucks against me, moaning as I greedily and hungrily suck her nipples, biting softly onto the swells of her breasts.

When I slide my finger into her, her moans take on a distinct quality. They become urgent. It’s like, if she doesn’t come, something terrible will happen. It’s like my entire purpose becomes bringing her to the shivering edge.

Her tightness grips my finger as I slide deeper, her soaked heat beckoning me, begging me.

She pushes her face against my chest when the orgasm grips her. She doesn’t want anybody to hear her cries as they flurry like a snowstorm from her lips. She bites my chest, not caring about my sweatiness, as I pump my hand faster.

When it’s over, and I’ve wrung every last drop of pleasure from her, I can’t think of anything else—just her body and the desire she’s sparked through every inch of me.

I grab my shorts and pull them down. My thickness springs free; a dollop of precome clings to my tip. She stares down at my cock with her startled, beautiful eyes.

“Asher,” she whispers.

“I need you,” I groan. “I need to feel you around my cock. I need to fill your tight hole. I need to fucking own you.”

Own her? What am I even saying?

It’s the snow globe effect again.

Everything makes sense when we’re trapped in a moment, no matter how crazy.

She reaches for my cock, hesitating. She wraps her hand around my base.

“We can’t have sex,” she says as she strokes me.

Pleasure erupts in me. Her hand is soft and wet, making me think I might explode before I even slide into her pussy.

“We can,” I growl. “You’re ready for it. I felt how wet you are. I’ll go slow at first, stretch your perfect pussy with my cock. Then I’ll bend you over and get a greedy look at your perfect ass as I push inside …”

“Not sex,” she says frantically, rubbing me faster, her tits jiggling hypnotically with each brush of her hand.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it,” I say roughly, smoothing my hand over my swollen rod and her eager, needy nub. She trembles, responding immediately.

“I’m a virgin, Asher,” she whimpers. “Just … let me do this, okay? Let me make you …”

A virgin? My head swims. The revelation should make me stop. Somehow, it makes me want her more.

I push her tits together, sucking her nipples again, kissing her wet skin as she pumps her hand quicker, harder, squeezing my shaft. Release rushes up my rod.

I can’t stop it anymore.

“Fuck,” I moan into her perfectly plump breasts. “Fuck, fuck, fu …”

My dick shudders as come erupts out of me, a hot stream of release spattering against her stomach.

I take a step back, my head beginning to clear. I’ve only got a few moments before my lust takes over again. My release glimmers on her stomach. She’s red all over from my kissing and touching.

“You should go,” she whispers.

“I know.”

I grab her hips and pull her close. When we kiss, she clings to the back of my neck like she never wants to release me. Then she digs her nails into my chest.

“Seriously,” she says. “You have to go. We have to be better than this.”

I take a step back. I was right about my manhood. It’s getting hard again already. She looks down, biting her lip and seeming shocked, but how can she be? I meant what I said. She’s irresistible.

“Asher,” she whispers, wrapping a towel around herself. “Leave. What if Dan comes home? What then? This was a mistake.”

“The best mistake of my life,” I say, forcing myself to walk toward the door.

Only when I’m in my bedroom, alone, does it hit me—the full implication of what we just did.

It was meant to be a prank, but there was nothing funny about it. That was so much more than a kiss.

She’s a virgin …

That should highlight how wrong this is. Not only is she younger than me and my best friend’s sister, but she also has no experience. I need to be the mature one.

Maybe, somehow, I can forget about this, take her advice, and pretend it never happened.

Hell, I may wake up tomorrow in a big red suit with a thick white beard. Both are just as likely.