Unwrapped (Sugar & Spice #1)

8. Asher

Chapter 8

Asher

W andering through the market with Ivy by my side after our skating adventure, I keep my steps slow, savoring the moment. The festive buzz is fading as we near the last few rows of stalls, the snow falling like a perfect white veil over everything. She’s right there, so close that her warmth radiates through the cold air. I don’t even feel the chill nipping at my skin. Honestly, nothing feels cold when Ivy’s next to me.

We reach the end of the market, where evergreen trees wrapped in twinkling lights frame a picture-perfect scene. But it’s not the trees that catch my eye. It’s the mistletoe swaying between two of them, almost like it’s begging for attention. I can’t help the slow grin spreading across my face.

“Well, look at that,” I murmur, my voice low and playful as I nod toward the mistletoe. “Seems like we’ve found ourselves in a bit of a situation.”

Ivy’s gaze follows mine, and when she spots the mistletoe, her laugh comes out nervous, but cute as hell. “It’s just a silly tradition,” she says, trying to play it cool, but I don’t miss the flicker of excitement in her eyes. Her pulse is practically racing, and I can feel the tension in the air between us.

God, I love this. The tension, the anticipation, the delicious temptation of leaning forward and pulling her into my arms as my tongue explores her mouth.

“Is it?” I take a step closer, letting the snow crunch under my boots as the space between us shrinks. Her breath is warm against the winter chill, and I can’t stop looking at her lips. So close, but not quite touching. “Or maybe,” I add, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver through her, “it’s an opportunity.”

She swallows, and I catch the sound in the quiet night, the way her breath hitches just a little. That’s when I know I have her attention. Her eyes dart to mine, and there’s a challenge there, a spark that makes my heart pound harder.

“Asher…” Her voice wavers, but I hear the unspoken question in it. I step in even closer, until the heat between us makes the world around us blur. The snow, the market, everything just fades away.

“What?” I ask, my tone soft, teasing, but there’s a flicker of seriousness beneath it. “Too much of a cliché for you? We could just walk away, pretend we didn’t see it.”

I’m daring her now, testing her boundaries, and I feel a moment of uncertainty myself. Ivy Calloway, the woman who seems to have everything together—what if I’m reading this wrong? But the way she looks at me, the way her lips part ever so slightly, tells me I’m right where I need to be.

“It’s not that,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, “it’s just…”

I lean in, just enough that our noses brush, that electricity sparking between us. “What are you afraid of, Ivy?” My voice is low, coaxing. I want her to say it. To admit what we’re both feeling.

Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, I feel the weight of the world holding its breath. It’s just her and me, standing beneath the mistletoe, caught in something we both know isn’t just about a silly holiday tradition.

“I’m afraid that if I kiss you,” she says, her voice soft but full of honesty, “I won’t want it to be just a silly tradition.”

Her words slam into me, and for a second, I freeze. Did she really just say that? I can’t help the smile that breaks across my face. A slow, genuine grin that has nothing to do with teasing. I reach up, brushing a snowflake from her hair, my fingers lingering a little longer than necessary.

“Maybe I don’t want it to be just a tradition either,” I reply, my voice barely louder than a whisper, as if I’m afraid to break the spell between us. “Maybe I’m hoping it’s the start of something.”

There’s a shift in her, a softening that pulls me in even further. She looks up at me, and I can see the decision flickering in her eyes. Her hand moves up to touch my face, her glove brushing against my stubble, and it’s like every nerve in my body is suddenly on high alert.

Time slows, the space between us humming with tension and unspoken words. And then she rises up on her toes, and before I can even think, her lips are on mine. Soft, tentative, like she’s asking a question I’ve been dying to answer.

For a heartbeat, I’m frozen. Not because I don’t want this—God, I’ve wanted this for so long—but because it feels too perfect. But then instinct kicks in, and I pull her closer, my hand slipping behind her neck, my fingers tangling in her hair as I kiss her back.

Really fucking kiss her.

My lips move against hers, slowly, gently for a few seconds before passion takes over. I slide my tongue between them, a soft moan slipping from her lips into my mouth. My cock stiffens against her, her body melting against me as I deepen the kiss, both of us completely lost in each other.

The world disappears. There’s no snow, no market, no people milling around. Just Ivy, her lips warm against mine, her body pressed close as if she’s been waiting for this as long as I have. The kiss deepens, and I feel her relax into me, a soft sound escaping her lips that makes my pulse race even harder.

I can’t stop the smile that forms as I pull her even closer, the warmth of her mouth a perfect contrast to the cold around us. When we finally break apart, both of us breathless, our foreheads resting together, I take a moment to just enjoy it. Snowflakes are melting against our skin, but I don’t care. All I can think about is the way she kissed me like she meant it, like she wanted more just like me.

“Fuck,” I murmur, my voice rougher than I expect. “That was…” I lean in again, taking another minute to enjoy her lips again. “Sorry,” I whisper when I pull back, “I need to stop.”

She laughs softly, the sound reminding me that we’re still in public and despite what I want, I can’t take things further.

“I didn’t ask you to stop.”

I reach out, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip, feeling the way she shivers under my touch. “Mmm, don’t say that…” The tension ratchets back up, both of us leaning in again, our bodies doing all the talking.

When I pull back from her this time, I put physical distance between us, stepping back and sucking in a deep breath, groaning when I let it out. I reach down, attempting to adjust my rigid cock that’s begging for even a second of relief.

“Goddamn.” I laugh, Ivy’s eyes dropping down to the evidence, her cheeks flushing again. “You really know how to test a man’s limits.”

“I’m sure you’ve suffered worse,” she teases, her hands reaching out to rest softly against my chest as she looks up at me.

“For a scientist, you’re damn good at breaking the laws of chemistry.”

Her eyes spark with amusement as she raises an eyebrow at my corny attempt at a joke. “What can I say? Sometimes, you have to defy the rules to make something truly spectacular.”

I lean in, my lips barely brushing hers again. “I think you might be the most intriguing person I’ve ever met, Ivy Calloway.”

“Careful, Asher,” she whispers, her breath mingling with mine, “you keep saying things like that, and I might start to believe you.”

I smile, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, my mind wondering if there’s something more behind that comment, like maybe she’s worried this is all I’m after—but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Maybe I want you to believe it.”

For a moment, we just stand there, holding each other beneath the mistletoe. The world could fall apart around us, and I don’t think I’d notice. All I feel is her warmth, the steady rhythm of her breath matching mine, and the quiet certainty that I don’t want to let this moment slip away.

It’s weird. We are strangers, there’s no way around it, even if we have a past. We didn’t know one another in high school and we still don’t truly know each other but there’s something between us that feels deeper than any connection I’ve ever had, like there’s always been something pulling us back to each other.

When she finally looks up at me, her smile is small, unsure. “So, what now? Do we just pretend this didn’t happen?”

I shake my head, my voice steady. “No. I don’t want to pretend. I don’t know what this is yet, but I know I don’t want it to be a one-time thing.”

Her expression softens, and I see the hope in her eyes. “I don’t know what this is either,” she admits, “but I think… I think I’d like to find out.”

I grin, kissing her forehead again before pulling back slightly, my hands still resting on her waist. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go just yet.”

She laughs, her breath warm against the cold. “You better not, Asher Mercer.” She clutches my coat in her gloved hands, her walls slowly coming down more and more, letting me see what’s really behind those dark, mysterious eyes. “Because if you do, I might just find a way to turn you into a cookie recipe.”

I laugh, leaning down to kiss her quickly. “She’s feisty. I like it.”

“You have no idea,” she teases, biting my lip gently.

“Just promise you won’t burn the edges.”

She looks at me, her eyes full of something soft, something real, like she sees past the false bravado I put on. Past the CEO, past the smile and charm. She sees me.

Ivy’s laugh is light and full of warmth, the kind that sinks into your chest and settles there, burrowing deep. “No promises,” she teases, her voice soft as she steps back, just enough to put some space between us, though her fingers linger against mine. The market has mostly emptied out, but neither of us seems eager to go back to wherever we were headed before this moment.

I let my thumb glide over the back of her hand, enjoying the quiet simplicity of just standing there with her. But there’s something else in the air now—a buzz, a tension that hasn’t quite left us since that kiss under the mistletoe. I feel like I should say something, anything to keep her close for a little longer. My place isn’t far, and the thought of going back to an empty apartment, when I could be with her instead, feels… wrong.

“Do you want to head back to my place?” I ask, the words coming out more casually than I expected, but there’s an edge of anticipation in my tone. “It’s not far, and I’ve got some hot chocolate… if that sounds like your kind of after-market drink.”

“Oh, the old ‘my place isn’t far’ cliché, huh?” She giggles.

I grin, stepping closer again, catching her scent, a mix of that sweet vanilla and something uniquely hers. “Yeah, but sometimes clichés are just… comfortable. Or maybe I’m just hoping to spend a little more time with you.” My tone drops lower, the flirtation obvious now, and I’m rewarded with the slight flush that spreads across her cheeks.

I lean in, close enough that our noses almost brush, my voice a low murmur. “I make it with real chocolate. No powder mix in sight. I think you’ll be impressed.”

She rolls her eyes playfully but laughs. “Alright, you’ve convinced me.”

With a lingering smile, I take her hand, threading my fingers through hers, and together, we walk out of the market. The snow falls more steadily now, blanketing the street in a quiet kind of calm as we head toward my place, our steps in sync.

My apartment is modest compared to most millionaires—wood floors, a couple of bookshelves, a fireplace in the corner that I rarely use. It’s not elaborate and it doesn’t really feel much like a home but right now, with her here, it feels like everything. I toss my keys onto the small table near the door and flick on a few lights, giving the space a soft glow.

“Wow.” She glances around. “Your place is so cozy, so—masculine.”

I give her a playful grin as I walk toward the kitchen. “Cozy, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.” I pause, turning to catch her eye again. “So, you want that hot chocolate?”

“You weren’t kidding,” she says, leaning on the counter, watching me with an amused smile. “I’m starting to think you planned this.”

Her cheeks flush again, and I can’t help but let my gaze linger on her lips, remembering how they felt pressed against mine. The silence between us hums with tension. When I finish the drinks, I slide one over to her, letting my fingers brush hers deliberately. The spark that flares between us isn’t just in my head; I know she feels it too.

She takes a sip, closing her eyes for a moment as the warmth of the chocolate hits her. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is really good.”

“You know,” I murmur, my voice low and rough with the weight of everything I’m feeling, “I can’t stop thinking about that kiss,” I admit, knowing I’m pushing my luck.

Her breath hitches, and her eyes darken just a bit, her lips parting. “Me either.”

That’s all the permission I need. In one smooth motion, I close the distance between us, my mouth capturing hers again, but this time, there’s no hesitation. I pull her flush against me, deepening the kiss as my hands move up her back, drawing her closer until there’s nothing between us but the heat that’s been building all night.

Ivy responds instantly, her fingers sliding into my hair, tugging just enough to send a spark of heat shooting down my spine. Her lips move against mine, confident now, as if we’ve both been holding back since we left the market, and now that it’s here, we’re not holding back. The kiss turns hungry, the tension snapping like a rubber band that’s been pulled too tight for too long.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless, her hands still tangled in my hair, my arms wrapped tightly around her. Our foreheads rest against each other, the air between us thick with something undeniable.

“This,” I whisper, my voice husky with desire, “feels like a lot more than just a silly tradition.”

She smiles, a slow, wicked smile that makes my pulse quicken. “You’re right about that.”

Without another word, I lift her onto the counter, stepping between her legs as I lean in for another kiss, harder this time, more certain. The tension that’s been building between us all night finally breaks, and I know that whatever this is, it’s just the beginning.

Ivy’s hands tighten in my hair, her body pressing against my cock. The kiss deepens, the rhythm of it changing, no longer tentative but filled with a kind of urgency that matches the pulse in my chest. I grip her waist, feeling the warmth of her body seeping through my fingers as I pull her even closer. Her hips move slightly against me, her body begging for some friction between her thighs.

She lets out a soft, breathy sound that drives me wild, and I can’t help but slip my hands up under her sweater, feeling the soft skin beneath. Her breath hitches at the touch, and when she pulls back to look at me, her eyes are dark, her pupils wide with desire. There’s something raw between us now, like we’ve both stopped pretending this was just a casual evening.

I lean in again, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, trailing down the side of her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under my lips. She tilts her head back, giving me more access, her hands sliding down to grip my shoulders, anchoring herself as she shivers from my touch. I can feel the heat rising between us, the kind of heat that makes me forget about everything else—the cold, the snow, the world outside.

I pull back just enough to look at her, my hands resting on her hips as I catch my breath. “Ivy,” I murmur, “if you don’t want me to strip you naked and spend the next several hours tasting every fucking inch of you, you need to tell me no right now. You understand me?”

Her eyes search mine, and for a second, I see the flicker of uncertainty, but it fades just as quickly as it came. Her answer is clear in the way her hands tighten around me, pulling me closer.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the shaky breath that follows. “Take me, Asher.”

That’s all I need. My lips crash against hers again, more urgent this time, more intense. Her hands roam over my chest, then down, tugging at my shirt as if she’s just as desperate for more as I am. I don’t hesitate, lifting her off the counter and carrying her toward the couch. Her laughter fills the space between kisses, a light sound that only fuels the fire.

I set her down gently, then join her on the couch, leaning over her as my hands find her waist again. Ivy pulls me down on top of her, her lips never leaving mine as she shifts beneath me, her legs tangling with mine. The kiss becomes more heated, more demanding, and I can feel the last traces of control slipping away as I lose myself in her.

“I need a taste,” I say between kisses as I trail my lips down her neck, lifting her sweater up and over her head in a rush.

Her laughter is gone, along with any trace of the lighthearted conversation from earlier. Her body arches beneath me, her hands in my hair as I slide her skirt up her thighs, running my nose and lips against the tights she’s wearing. My fingers reach the waistband of them and her panties and I instantly pull them down, tossing them to the side.

She intakes a sharp breath when my fingers touch her bare skin, gliding up gently as I press her thighs apart.

“Let me taste you,” I say gently, leaning in, my mouth already watering at the sight of her pink, glistening pussy that’s begging for my tongue to swipe right up the center.

“Ohhh.” Her moan is deeper, her thighs spreading on their own, her hands tightening in my hair as I take my time swirling, tasting, and savoring every drop of her.

“Asher.” My name comes out as a cry when her orgasm reaches her. She pants, moaning and writhing against my tongue in a way that will be burned into my brain. Her flavor sends a possessive jolt through me, like her flavor was made for me.

But there’s something else in this, too. It’s not just the desire, though that’s impossible to ignore; it’s the way her touch feels like it’s lighting me up from the inside, like every kiss, every glance is stoking something deeper. Something I didn’t realize I’d been waiting for.

When I finally climb back over her, I wrap my hand around her jaw, holding her steady while I dip my tongue into her mouth, making her taste her release on my tongue. I break the kiss, my forehead resting against hers as we both catch our breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath me. Her eyes flutter open, and when she meets my gaze, there’s no hesitation left in them. Just her, fully in this moment with me.

“More, I need more.” Her hands are on my belt, undoing it followed by my zipper.

“You’re sure?” I ask, my voice low, rough with need but tinged with the last thread of restraint I’m holding on to.

She nods, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw with one hand, her other sliding beneath my waistband and wrapping tightly around my cock, making me groan.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Those words hit me like a shot of adrenaline, and I lean down to kiss her again, softer this time, savoring the way she melts into it. I can feel her hands roaming over me, pulling me closer, and I’m lost in the sensation of her—her warmth.

“Then I hope you’re ready to take me over.” I reach down, freeing my cock and lining it up at her entrance. “And over.” I press the tip against her warmth, her pussy stretching to accommodate my girth.

“If I can.” Her breath hitches, her thighs squeezing my ribs tightly as she lets out a shaky breath.

“Oh, we’ll work you up to it.” My voice sounds like I’ve been drinking all night, my throat tightening as I hold back from pressing all the way inside her. “That’s right, Ivy.” I guide myself in and out of her in small increments. “See how wet your pussy is getting for me. Just relax and let me show you how to take my cock, baby girl.”

Our fingers are intertwined, both of her hands pinned above her head as I pump in and out of her, my strokes long and slow. I lean down, pulling her bra down with my teeth, wrapping my lips around her nipple.

Her eyes are struggling to stay on mine, rolling back into her head as her back arches, her hips lifting to meet my strokes.

“Look at you fucking me back.” I try to keep my composure but I’m hanging by a thread. Her jaw clenches, her head lulling back so her neck is exposed to my lips. I take advantage just as I feel her walls clench around me, milking me for every last drop as she joins me in my release, crying out, her own orgasm tearing through her body.

I lean back in my chair, the creak of leather beneath me punctuating the otherwise quiet office, and my gaze drifts out the window to the snow-covered skyline. Chicago looks peaceful under its thick layer of snow, but my thoughts are far from tranquil. They’re tangled up in memories of last night—memories of Ivy.

My pulse quickens, my dick sore but ready for another night of marathon sex.

My phone buzzes on the desk, and I can’t help the grin that tugs at the corner of my lips when I see her name flash across the screen.

Ivy

You end up making it into the office?

Or are you just daydreaming about me at home?

I bite back a chuckle. That woman knows how to keep me on my toes, even through text.

Asher

You caught me. I’m staring out the window, trying to figure out how to focus after last night.

You do have a way of leaving a lasting impression, Calloway.

My thumb hovers over the send button, a thousand things I’d rather be saying than texting her. Things like how her skin felt under my hands, how the memory of her lips still lingers like a fire I can’t put out. Hell, how I’m struggling to keep my mind on anything but her.

Her response comes quickly.

Ivy

Mmm, do I?

II guess that’s what happens when you combine great company with a little holiday… magic. ;)

That little winking face does something to me—something that makes it impossible to focus on the reports sitting on my desk. I shift in my chair, memories flooding back in vivid detail. The feel of her warm body against mine, the way her breath caught when my hands roamed her curves. The way she whispered my name, making it sound like something sacred.

My phone buzzes again, pulling me from the vivid memory.

Ivy

Or maybe you’re just terrible at focusing.

I laugh out loud this time, running a hand through my hair. She’s not wrong.

Asher

I think you’re the problem, not my focus. I’m usually much better at handling distractions.

But you… you’re a distraction I’m willing to make time for. A distraction I hope wants to stick around.

There’s a pause on her end, and I can almost picture her biting her lip as she reads my reply, her cheeks flushed from whatever smart retort she’s about to send.

Ivy

Good to know I have such an effect on the infamous Asher Mercer. I guess I’ll have to take full advantage of that.

Her words linger in my mind, the innuendo clear. My body tightens at the thought of “full advantage,” and I find myself shifting again in my chair, trying to get comfortable. This woman has no idea what she’s doing to me—or maybe she does, and that’s exactly the problem.

My assistant’s voice crackles through the intercom, pulling me back into the moment. “Mr. Mercer, your meeting with the marketing team is in fifteen minutes.”

I reply with a quick, “Thanks, Keri,” but my head is still full of Ivy—how she felt beneath me, how her eyes had softened as she traced lazy patterns on my chest afterward, her lips swollen from our kisses. The way her body felt so natural against mine. Suddenly a pang of regret hits my ribs.

Why didn’t I make an effort in high school? We could be ten years in the future right now.

I glance down at my phone, hesitating before sending one more message, my thumb moving across the screen deliberately.

Asher

I can’t stop thinking about last night.

You’re dangerous, Ivy Calloway. You’ve got me thinking about things I shouldn’t be thinking about while I’m sitting in my office. Making me wish you were spread out on my desk right now so I could take my lunch early.

There. Let her chew on that while I try to get through this meeting without completely losing my head.

I don’t even bother to look up when I hear a knock at the door. Zane’s unmistakable presence fills the room as he steps in, leaning against the doorframe with that same damn smirk he always wears when he’s about to get on my case.

“I know, I know, I’m late for the marketing meeting.”

“You’ve been staring out that window for a good twenty minutes. Want to tell me what’s going on, little brother?” His eyes gleam with amusement, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what—or who—he thinks is responsible for my distraction.

I shrug, trying to play it cool, but there’s no hiding the fact that Ivy’s still on my mind. “Just thinking about some things,” I say, leaning back in my chair, trying to suppress the grin that threatens to spread, “nothing important.”

Zane raises an eyebrow, stepping inside and closing the door behind him with a soft click. “Yeah, right. I heard you’ve been spending time with Ivy Calloway. Interesting choice, Asher. She’s not like the usual girls you entertain.”

The way he says “entertain” makes my jaw clench. Zane has always had a knack for seeing through me. I shoot him a look, trying to keep things casual. “I’m working with her and Tessa on that new business. I’m just giving them some advice.”

He snorts. “Advice, huh? And that’s why you took her to the Christmas market? And why you look like you’re seconds away from spacing out again right now and clearly didn’t get an ounce of sleep last night.”

I can’t help but shift in my chair, the taste of Ivy—of her skin, her lips, her breathless moans—still fresh on my tongue and lips. “It’s… not what you think,” I lie, but even I don’t believe it.

Zane arches an eyebrow, his skeptical expression cutting right through me. “Sure, it’s not. Look, I get it. Ivy’s smart, driven, not like the usual women you’ve been involved with. But that’s exactly why you need to tread carefully.”

I roll my eyes, leaning forward and resting my elbows on the desk. “Why do you care, Zane? Since when do you care about who I spend time with?”

His expression softens, and for a moment, I see that brotherly concern in his eyes, something I don’t see often. “Because I know how you get when someone catches your interest. You dive in, you play with fire, and when it burns out, you walk away without looking back.”

I narrow my eyes at him, even though I know he’s right. I’ve never let anyone get close enough to burn me. But Ivy? She’s different. She’s already so far under my skin, I don’t know if I could walk away even if I wanted to.

“I’m not trying to screw anything up,” I mutter, more to myself than to him. “She’s not like anyone else.”

Zane looks at me for a long moment, then sighs, standing up and patting my shoulder. “Just be careful, Asher. Don’t drag her into your world if you’re not ready for what comes with that.”

As he heads for the door, my phone buzzes again. I glance down, my heart skipping a beat when I see Ivy’s reply.

Ivy

I can’t stop thinking about last night either.

Maybe we should do something about that. Tonight?

A slow smile spreads across my face as I type my reply.

Asher

You’re on. My place at eight.

I lean back, that tension in my chest loosening a little. For the first time in a long time, I’m not interested in running. Not from her. Ivy’s got me hooked—and tonight, I plan on showing her just how deep that hook goes.