Chapter 21: Christmas Morning

Spencer's POV

Sometimes I cannot believe the things we do to one another.

It's amazing and hot and sensual…and it blows my mind.

We are lying here in my childhood bed, Ashley's Christmas Eve present tucked neatly in my nightstand drawer, and our bodies entangled tightly as the first light of morning begins to peek its way through my window.

We are both still naked, and a bit damp from the previous night…and morning.

I pull her more tightly to me and kiss her flushed cheek softly, feeling her stir a bit.

"Merry Christmas, baby," I whisper, earning a grin from her as she lifts her head up from her pillow and opens her eyes.

"Holy shit," she whispers back, and I giggle, trying to erase the night's events from my mind, knowing we have to get up soon and meet my parents downstairs, and that taking any trips down that memory lane will render me unable to do anything but fumble into the nightstand and pick up where we left off.

I sit up straight and pull the cool sheets up over my chest. I watch her flip on her side and prop herself up on one elbow, eyeing me almost greedily as she reaches out to stroke my arm.

I shudder under her touch and cock my head to the side to gaze lovingly down on her.

She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, lying there with messy brown curls, her eyes sleepy but content.

I love her so much.

So very, very much.

And it scares and excites me, all at the same time.

I sometimes wonder how to express how much I love her…how much I cannot imagine my life without her.

I cannot tell her adequately how beautiful she is, how hot and sexy she is, and I just don't think I will ever have the words that will come close to describing what she does to me.

It's almost frustrating.

"You think Santa came?" I tease as I run my fingers gently through her messy locks.

"Well, I don't know about Santa, but I sure as hell did," she smirks and I laugh out loud.

"Ashley…" I groan as I shake my head at her.

"What? I am sure Mrs. Clause ain't got nothin' on you, babe." She wiggles her eyebrows at me and I laugh again before leaning down to place a long, soft kiss on her smirking lips.

"I love you, Ashley Davies," I inform her, changing the tone quickly.

I hear her moan and watch her eyes close before they slowly flutter open again and lock on me, her expression serious.

"I love you, too, Spencer Carlin. So very, very much," she responds and I feel my heart melt. "Sometimes I get frustrated that I cannot tell or show you just how much."

Amazing.

…

"Merry Christmas!" My dad's voice booms through the entire downstairs as our freshly showered and properly groomed selves find our way downstairs to greet my eager parents.

We still are in our pajamas…a Carlin Family tradition…but we agreed that the smell of sex is a quite obvious one and we'd better attempt to wash it off of us before sharing Christmas morning with my parents.

"Merry Christmas, Dad," I reply warmly as I kiss his cheek before moving to my mother, who is sitting at the bar, sipping on a cup of coffee. "Merry Christmas, Mom," I continue as I hug her warmly.

"Merry Christmas, darlings." She returns my embrace before standing and pulling Ashley into an equally warm hug.

Ashley beams at me from over my mom's shoulder and I hear her mumble a sweet reply. She pulls from my mom and moves to my dad, who pulls her into a bear hug before kissing the top of her head.

"Thanks for letting me be here," she whisper shyly to him and he just laughs and shakes his head.

"Sweetheart, you shouldn't be anywhere else in the world," he beams.

I watch Ashley's expression drop for a millisecond, before a sincere smile finds its way back to her mouth.

I know where she just went, and I reach out to squeeze her hand, signaling just this, before I make us both a cup of coffee.

"So, looks like you girls have been somewhat behaved this year, cause Santa left a few presents under the tree for you both!"

I roll my eyes discretely before handing Ashley a steaming cup of black coffee.

My parents still insist, although I am the ripe old age of 19, that Santa Clause still exists and that some of the gifts under the tree are from him.

And as I see the light in Ashley's eyes intensify at my father's announcement, I am reminded yet again of just how precious such crazy traditions can be.

Fighting the urge to kiss her, and knowing that my parents would probably not mind, but not being entirely ready to display such affection, I shoot her a wink.

Just then, the phone rings.

My mom literally jumps out of her chair and runs to the phone.

"Oh…I bet it's Glen!" She exclaims excitedly, and although I know my big brother is a jack ass at times, I feel the same excitement overcome me at the thought of hearing from him this morning.

"Hello? Glen, son, Merry Christmas!" She cries, and I fight the urge to cover my ears. She fumbles clumsily for the speaker button and in seconds I hear my brother's voice over the line.

"Merry Christmas, guys! Chelsey's here!" he announces and we all huddle tightly around the receiver to hang on to every word.

"Hi, guys. Merry Christmas. Or should I say…Joyeux Noel!"

"Hey Chels," I respond first, realizing how much I miss them both at this moment. "Joyeux Noel to you, too!"

I hear her giggle and then hear Glen mumble something incoherently. "So guys, we set an alarm so we would call just at the right time. Dad, you have cinnamon rolls in the oven. Mom, you are in your reindeer pajamas with a cup of coffee. Spence, you have rolled your eyes a million times at their insistence that Santa came. And Ashley…I'm just sorry girl."

I hear Chelsey's laughter in the background blend with the rest of ours as if she's not oceans away.

"Well, Glen, did you predict that we're all a little hung over this morning because of your parents' new-found love for everything peppermint and schnappsy?" Ashley cuts in, glancing amusedly around the room.

"Say what?" Glen protests and I erupt into another fit of giggles. "Mom, Dad, seriously. I head off to Paris for one little holiday and you go and get all cool on me? Man, Ash, the must really love you."

And I feel silence cast upon the kitchen at this statement.

"We sure do, son. In fact, if you want to stay there in Paris, Ashley makes the perfect replacement for you."

That would be Paula Carlin, and I am not sure the smile on Ashley's face could get any bigger.

"Yeah, we love her like crazy. And my GOD does she smell better than you, son."

That would be Arthur Carlin, but the smell dig he just threw at his son is lost upon both Ashley and I, as I observe her blink back tears.

Clearing her throat, she smiles at me before leaning towards the receiver again.

"Sorry, Glenny Boy," she continues. "Apparently good looks, personality and hygiene are a big plus around here."

I only hear the beginning of Glen's protests, and barely make it through Chelsey's replay of her first semester of art school. And as Glen and Chelsey start into the details of their time in Paris, I am gone.

All I can concentrate on is MY girlfriend, standing between my parents, both of them with their arms around her, all three of them hunched towards the phone, laughing and trading knowing glances, having the most normal conversation imaginable with my brother and HIS girlfriend.

And I miss my brother and Chelsey.

I really do.

But on this Christmas morning, the only person I can see and hear…

Is Ashley.