Third Strike

by B. J. Harvey

  I hear the door to the pool house close.

  “I’m just in the shower, Mills. I’ll be out in five.”

  What I don’t expect to see is a bikini-clad Ash stepping into the shower to join me a few moments later. Then again, I don’t expect her to reach up, cup my jaw, and proceed to kiss me like I am the very air she needs to breathe either.

  I kiss her back before reality kicks in, and I push her slightly away, meeting her adorably wide eyes. “Ash, we can’t do this.”

  Her head jerks as if I’ve slapped her. “We can’t do this here, or we can’t do this at all?” Her soft voice wavers, and it’s like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

  “I want you more than I’ve wanted any other woman in a long fucking time, but anyone could walk in here.”

  She moves closer, my hands dropping to her hips as her warm skin presses into mine. “I locked the door. Lucy has gone, and there’s no one else home. It’s just you…” She runs her palms up my chest until they’re resting on my shoulders, “… and me…” She lifts up on her toes and runs her tongue up my neck to just below my ear, “… and unlimited hot water. Do I need to spell it out for you?” Her tone drops to a velvety rasp, and the strongest man on earth would not be able to say no right now.

  There’s only so much restraint a guy can have, and the minute she reaches behind her back to untie the strings of her bikini top, I’m done for.

  Sick of spending days not getting what I want, I stop fighting and devour her mouth before her now sopping wet bikini-top drops to the ground. Here I am, naked as the day I was born, plastered against the woman who could spell the end of me, and I’m like a man possessed.

  I drag my lips down to her neck, tasting salt and summer, smelling coconut and Ash, needing more, needing much more than I can and will ever be able to take. Instead, I decide to tease myself—something to remember when I’m alone—with just how good I know it could be while showing her how much I want her and I feel myself losing control.

  “Whatever happens, don’t you fucking dare take those bikini bottoms off. Christ!” I bite out, desperately sucking in air, cupping her face as I stare down at her in awe and wonder. “This is both the stupidest and craziest thing I’ve ever done, but right now, I can’t think straight.”

  “Don’t think then,” she says breathlessly, dropping her head back to offer me more. “Just fucking do something.”

  So I do, tangling my fingers in her hair to hold her in place before slamming my lips down on hers and taking her mouth with ravenous hunger. It’s like she’s broken me and I don’t ever want to be fixed.

  She matches me kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, her movements not as confident as her brazen texts and seduction had suggested. Don’t get me wrong—she’s far from new to this, but as I drag my hands up and down her back, touching her skin as much as I can, I don’t miss her trembling. I also don’t miss her raspy groans that I feel down my throat, right to the base of my rock-hard cock which takes on a mind of its own the moment Ash presses her hips against mine.

  “Fuck,” I spit out, gasping for air as I lift my head and just stare into the most beautiful blue eyes I swear I’ve ever seen. “Ash, you’re killing me here.”

  “You’re doing it to yourself. Stop resisting and just give in to this.”

  “Believe me,” I say, brushing my lips against hers again because I just can’t stop myself from doing it, “I gave in five minutes into that kiss in Boston. But we have to be careful,” I say, my fingers gently tightening on her hips.

  A wry grin curves her lips. “Do you know how hard it is to see you and not be able to smile at you the way I want to? Or touch you… or kiss you?” she whispers against my lips before running her tongue along the seam and delving inside the moment I open them for her, letting her take the lead.

  My hands begin to roam again, wanting to explore every inch of her sun-kissed skin, every curve, every dip. I run my palms up her sides, grazing her breasts, gliding over them as the lukewarm water covers us.

  I swallow her moans as her fingers tangle in my wet hair. My entire body feels on fire, and as much as I’m trying to stop this from going too far, everything we’re doing is nowhere near enough.

  “Ash,” I groan, wrenching my lips free and pulling back, meeting her blazing, hooded eyes. “We have to stop,” I say half-heartedly, glancing down to see her beaded nipples straining toward me. “Fuck. Just one taste,” I rasp as I drop my head and circle the peak with the tip of my tongue before enveloping her with my mouth. My other hand slides down her flat, soft stomach, taking a life of its own as it toys with the waistband of her bikini bottoms, teasing me with the promise of everything beneath.

  “Please, Drew. I need you so fucking bad,” she begs, and it snaps the last ounce of resistance I have left. I dip my fingers beneath the fabric, growling when I’m met with smooth skin. My thumb traces down to rub over her swollen clit. Her hips buck against my hand, her back arching, pressing her breast harder against my mouth.

  She whimpers and cries as I run my fingers up and down. My fingertips ease inside her wet heat. My movements quicken as her breaths come harder and faster. I stand up to full height and take her mouth, partly to stifle her sounds, partly to quieten my own as I stroke her faster. She drops her hand to my cock and fists it slowly, tentatively, her confidence growing the more she does it.

  I remind myself—fleetingly—that I’m surely going to hell for doing this, but I’m past the point of no return. The tell-tale tingling at the base of my cock grows stronger and more incessant. My hips move in time with her firm strokes. Her body stiffens as she straddles the edge of her climax and fuck, I want to give it to her. I know I’ll dream of this moment for many lonely nights to come. I’m craving her sounds and press my hand harder against her, giving her more pressure as my other hand cups her ass, urging her to take whatever she needs.

  “Drew! Open up!”

  I freeze, jerking my head back and staring straight into Ash’s wide, terrified eyes.

  “Shit,” she breathes.

  Our chests are heaving. I pull my hands away from her, my brain scrambling as I try to think of a way out of this. I’m in the shower naked with Millen’s might-as-well-be-naked sister, and he’s standing less than thirty feet away from us on the other side of what I hope is a locked door.

  Now I know for sure I’m going to hell. There’s no way out of this, no time for fight or flight. As far as I know, there’s only one way in and out of the pool house, and Millen is standing right outside it.

  “I’ll be right there,” I yell. I shut the water off and step out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the rail and holding it for Ash, wrapping it around her. I find another for myself and fasten it on my waist as she bends down to grab her discarded bikini top, wringing out the water before putting it back on.

  “Please tell me there’s another way out of this place?” I whisper harshly. My shoulders are tense, my entire body, my brain, everything threatening to shut down as I wonder how the hell I could be this stupid? I let my dick take the lead, silencing all the common-sense arguments in my head about why this was not the time and definitely not the place to take this step with her.

  “Breathe, Drew. You need to calm down and get dressed and go out to see my brother. I’ll wait here until the coast is clear.”

  “Ash…”

  “Go to his room. Go inside the house. Just get him out of the backyard so that I can at least get out of here.” Putting her hands on my shoulders, she lifts up on her toes and brushes her lips against mine as if to calm me when it actually makes things worse.

  I should never have gone there with her, and if her narrowed eyes are anything to go by, she’s not missing my inner conflict. She searches my face, but I can’t find it in myself to school my features and hide my regret and fear from her. The one time—the first time—I’ve given in and lost myself in her, she’s managed to make me forget where I was and all the reasons why this shouldn’t happen.

&
nbsp; With a resigned sigh, she steps back and nods toward the bathroom door leading back out to the bedroom. “Go. We’ll talk later,” she says quietly, disappointment and hurt weighing heavy in her words.

  As much as I hate myself for making her sound like that, I have much bigger problems to deal with, and as I get dressed and stop with one hand on the front door, I silently pray that we all can get through this unscathed.

  Then I need to get far, far away from here, to clear my fucking head.

  I’m a coward. I freely admit it. After leading Millen away from the pool house and giving him a lame-ass excuse about needing to check on my place in Sacramento, I borrowed his rental car and drove home. I needed to distance myself from any further clusterfuck situations where my best friend was on the other side of a door while my hand was between his sister’s legs and she was fisting my cock.

  The safest place for me to be was nowhere near any members of the Ross family, something that Ashley definitely didn’t understand at first. I sent her a text when I got home explaining I would talk to her soon and checking that she was okay.

  Two days later, Millen and I flew back to college, and from that point forward I ignored her calls and texts. When my phone would ding with a message, and I wouldn’t reply straight away, Millen would give me a raised brow, but that was all. When it was still happening the following week, he asked me about it, and I lied—again—and said it was Kayley not getting the message that our summer fling was just that: a fling.

  Then Ash stopped trying to contact me, and I’d like to say that life was easy, but having declined Millen’s invite to spend Christmas with his family, I ended up alone on my couch watching movies, not a Christmas tree or present in sight. It was the first time I spent the holiday solo, and this year it wasn’t my preference. I’d expected to be in San Francisco, taking my place as the adopted member of Millen’s family, a place I hope to be able to keep once Ash and I can get over our whatever-it-is. She’s young. She’ll move on—or I hope she will—even though the idea of any asshole touching her the way I touched her makes me see red like never before.

  Almost getting caught was the wake-up call I needed. A figurative slap in the face, which woke me up from my fantasy world where I forgot the consequences for a while—okay, for six weeks—and was just a guy who liked a girl. At the back of my mind, I knew I was playing a dangerous game.

  By ending it cold turkey this way, I’m trying to protect Ashley and myself.

  I’ve touched the forbidden fruit and almost lost the closest thing I’ve had to family since the death of my mom.

  Honorable, maybe. Selfless? Far from it.

  Stupid? Well, only time will tell.

  By Christmas night, I’m three beers into a six-pack and feeling rather circumspect and definitely sorry for myself, wondering when life got so hard, and why did I try to make it harder by falling for a woman I shouldn’t?

  My attempt at self-discovery is interrupted by a knock on my front door. I don’t move straight away, almost certain that I’m hearing things. Until it happens again. Knowing there’s only one person it could be, I lift myself up off the couch and saunter toward the entryway. “You just couldn’t stay away, could ya, Mills…”?

  Pulling open the door, I stop mid-step when I find a complete stranger on my front porch.

  “Ah, hi. Can I help you?” I ask, brows furrowed, thinking for sure this guy’s got the wrong house.

  The older man rubs the back of his neck with his hand, lifting his eyes to meet mine. Eyes I’ve been looking at my entire life in the mirror. What the ever-loving fuck?

  We stand there in a silent standoff, my mind reeling. This can’t be happening. I must’ve slipped in some LSD with my beer, ’cause there’s no fucking way this can be real.

  “The resemblance is uncanny,” he whispers, shaking his head.

  “You wanna tell me why you’re on my doorstep on Christmas night, staring at me?” I say coldly. “Or did you expect me to open my arms wide and invite you in for a late-night family fucking reunion?”

  I don’t miss his wince and the drop of his shoulders.

  “You know who I am?” he asks. I clench my jaw tight, wondering how wrong it would be to tell this guy to fuck right off and never come back. What would Mom expect me to do?

  “Well, either you’re a long-lost uncle I never knew existed, or you’re the sperm donor I’ve never met nor had the inclination to meet. I’m guessing it’s the latter.”

  “Yeah, you’d be right. I’m Jonathan… Jon… Could I come in?”

  “What? Are you my Christmas present, just twenty-one years too late?”

  “I’ve come to explain a few things,” he says, making me scoff.

  “By all means, come in and tell me what has changed now as opposed to oh, I dunno, all the other years in my life when I might’ve needed a father. My mom was everything, and she was damn good at it.”

  “I know, Son. I know—”

  “You don’t get to call me that,” I grind out.

  “I didn’t know about you at first, and then I received a letter from your mother telling me she was dying, and I was a fool who sat on that information for over two years.”

  “And you suddenly had a crisis of conscience?” I ask incredulously. The nerve of this fucking guy.

  “It’s more complicated than that. Please, Andrew, I’d like the chance to explain.”

  I take a deep breath to calm myself. Have I wondered about my father over the years? Sure—who wouldn’t? Have I wondered why he was never part of my life? Of course. Am I in the right headspace to learn about this right now? Definitely fucking not.

  In this moment, I wonder what the man my mom raised me to be would do in this situation.

  I look him over, his slumped shoulders, slouched posture, and hands hidden in his pockets. It can’t have been easy for him to reach out to me, yet he’s done it and in person. He didn’t just send me a letter or track me down and call me. He picked up his balls—albeit after two years—and knocked on my door. Even in my current state of shock, I can admire that, on some level. I’m just not equipped to deal with it right now. But sometime soon I might be. Maybe with someone at my back.

  I meet his eyes and sigh. “Look. I’m sorry for being an asshole, but you’ve blindsided me.”

  “I can see that.” His shoulders relax, his eyes softening. “And I’m sorry for just turning up unannounced, but Christmas is a time for family, and I couldn’t leave it any longer. I just wanted to meet you face to face, even if you turned me away and told me you never wanted to see me again.”

  “I think I need to hear your side of things, if for nothing else than answering that big ‘what if’ question. But it’s Christmas, only the second I’ve had without Mom, and I’m not in the right frame of mind to give you the time I should.”

  “Now that I understand. That’s why it’s taken me so long to make this move.”

  “Do you think you can give me a few days?” I say, my surety growing the more I roll the idea around in my head. “Maybe meet me at the cafe down on the corner on the 27th? I’m heading back to college after New Year’s.”

  His eyes widen, and he stands up straighter, squaring his shoulders, his body language no longer that of a man preparing to run. “That would be great, Andrew. Maybe you’d consider meeting my—your family. . .”

  I’m still taken aback how much I see myself in this man. It’s like a lost piece of the puzzle that I never knew I missed has been found. I don’t know what to make of that, and it’s something which requires a hell of a lot more than a six-pack to get my head around.

  He puts out his hand and turns it palm up, holding out a white business card. I take it from him and pull my arm back, not ready for anything else.

  “It’s Drew,” I say roughly before clearing my throat. “Everyone calls me Drew.”

  “Call or text me with what time you’d like to meet.”

  My chest tightens in both anticipation and trepidation. “It’s
just a coffee. I can’t promise anything more than that right now.”

  “Drew, I don’t expect anything more than that. Just you hearing me out and not slamming the door in my face has made this a Christmas I won’t forget.”

  “So… you have a family?”

  He smiles at that. “Yeah.”

  “And they know about me?”

  “I told them about you—about everything—a few weeks ago.”

  I open my mouth to say something, but the words don’t come out. I scan his face, looking for anything out of place, but there’s no mistaking his sincerity. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “It’s more than I expected. Have a good Christmas, Drew,” he says with a nod before turning and walking down off the porch and along the path to his car.

  After shutting the door behind me, I lean my back against the wood and take my first easy breath in ten minutes.

  What on earth am I supposed to do now? It’s not like I can ask my mom about him. It’s not like I have anyone to ask about him except the man himself, something which I’m apparently going to do in two days’ time. But that doesn’t help me process my first ever face-to-face meeting with my father now, does it?

  My phone rings from the coffee table where I left it, snapping me out of my daze. Walking into the living room, I pick it up to see Ash’s name on the screen. For the first time since Thanksgiving, I don’t hesitate in answering her call.

  “Drew,” she breathes.

  “Feel like coming to Sacramento? I need you.”

  “Give me your address and two hours, and I’ll be there.”

  “It’s late, Ash. It can wait till tomorrow.”

  She sighs. “The first time you talk to me in weeks, and you tell me you need me. There’s no way I’m waiting until morning to see you, and I hate knowing you’re spending Christmas alone.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t like the idea of you driving at night.”