For the Win

by Kelly Jamieson

  Why is he here?

  I need to gather my wits. Blinking rapidly, I continue. “Shift your weight into your heels, enough that you could raise your toes off the board if you wanted. Breathing smooth…even…deep.”

  Harrison moves into the pose smoothly, his powerful thighs flexing as he bends his knees. My jaw loosens, even though I’ve seen those thighs many times.

  I manage to maintain my composure and lead the class despite the thoughts ping-ponging around in my head. I’m on autopilot, which isn’t fair to the others here, but at least I keep going. It’s a challenge to not look at Harrison, and every time I do, he’s watching me, and our glances collide with a visceral impact that nearly knocks me off my board.

  Don’t want that to happen again, nope.

  “Bring your hips down even lower and lift through your heart, spreading your shoulder blades apart…” I look around at the group. These are all people who’ve been here before. “Go deeper…deeper…” My eyes flick toward Harrison.

  He smirks at me and arches an eyebrow.

  Damn him and his dirty mind! Now I want to laugh!

  We move on to other poses, inhaling fresh air as the ocean breeze wafts around us. I fill my lungs and control my breathing, hoping to steady my galloping pulse. “Now…inhale…exhale and fold forward. Place your paddle on the board, and your hands on either side of the board…roll your shoulders away from your ears, inhale…extend the spine forward.”

  I lead them through the Cobra Pose. “Tuck the toes and press back to all fours…” I lift myself onto hands and knees, then lift my butt in the air. “And into Downward-Facing Dog.”

  “I feel really connected to my dog spirit,” Harrison says.

  This is the first comment he’s made since he joined us. My head is down and I can’t see him, but I swallow a giggle.

  We flow through Warrior 1 and Warrior 2. Some are wobbling a bit on their boards, but as I glance over at Harrison, he’s steady as a rock.

  Steady. As a rock.

  I love that.

  “Find your Plank Pose…either on your knees, or legs straight.” I work on maintaining my focus, moving through poses. “Enjoy the movement of your body on the water. Connect with your breath.” We’re all still and quiet for a moment. I don’t look at Harrison. “One more breath.”

  We move into Child’s Pose to finish, relaxing into the silence and gentle movement of the water beneath us. But my body is vibrating with nerves and excitement because as class ends…I’ll talk to Harrison.

  At one time I would have been anxious about him showing up like this. But I’m not. And I know I haven’t totally conquered my fears and the trauma, but I do know that I trust Harrison.

  We paddle back to shore. There’s a little chatter, and laughter from the rest of the group, but I stay behind them. Harrison paddles near me.

  “Okay,” he says. “Push me in the water.”

  My head whips around to stare at him.

  He holds his arms out wide. “Push me in. I deserve it.”

  My lips twitch. “I’m not pushing you in.”

  He grins, and it’s the most gorgeous, uplifting smile I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but smile back at him, my heart jumping in my chest. “You should.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Yeah.”

  I tip my head, eyeing him. I dip my paddle and push, and I’m nowhere even close to touching his board, but he wobbles as if he’s losing his balance, windmilling his arms dramatically, and then he falls backward into the water with a shout and a splash.

  My mouth drops open and my eyes pop wide. “Oh my God!”

  He comes up spluttering. “I’m okay.”

  I cover my smile with my fingers. “What are you doing?”

  The other people in the class are at the shore and have turned to watch.

  “I deserved that,” he says loudly. “Don’t apologize.”

  Now I’m really laughing and in danger of falling in myself. “Harrison, you nut. Get back on your board.”

  The water is shallow enough for him to walk, and he tugs his board along, grinning.

  Inside Stand-Up Guy Paddleboards and Makara Yoga, everyone returns their boards and disperses. Harrison’s gone too. My shoulders slump and I look around in confusion. Then he appears from the men’s changing room, dressed in dry clothes—a pair of jeans and a T-shirt—his hair still damp.

  He approaches, his gaze fixed on me with solemn focus, and stops in front of me. “Can we talk?”

  I nod, my heart hammering.

  “I’m not stalking you,” he assures me.

  “I know.”

  “And I didn’t come her to pressure you. Just to talk. If that’s okay.”

  I nod slowly.

  “Maybe we can go over to Bandits for a drink.”

  “Sure. Let me grab my things.” I head into the changing room for my bag. I slide my feet into flip-flops and check my appearance in the mirror. Not that I can do much about it. My cheeks and nose are a bit pink from the sun, my hair’s in a ponytail that’s coming loose. Whatever.

  I rejoin Harrison and we walk outside to cross the parking lot to the restaurant.

  “Are you limping?” I ask, stopping short.

  “Maybe a bit.” He rubs his left hip. “Had a run-in with a goalpost last night.”

  “I saw it.” I catch my lip between my teeth. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh yeah. Stiff and bruised, that’s all.” He rolls his left shoulder too.

  My stomach clutches at the thought of him in pain.

  We resume walking. “Congratulations on the win last night.”

  “Thanks.” He beams a big, wide grin.

  “You played fantastic.”

  “I did.” Then he laughs. “It was a team effort.”

  “When does the next series start?”

  “We don’t know yet. Eagles and Blues play tonight. Then we’ll know who we play against and when.”

  “It would be…funny if you played against the Eagles.”

  “It would be a great matchup,” he says. “Might cause some family strife, though.” He rolls his eyes. “As if we don’t have enough of that.”

  “Anything new happening with that?”

  “Not really. Everyone agreed we’ll deal with things after the playoffs.”

  “Right.”

  We sit outside on the patio since it’s a nice afternoon. A potted palm flutters near my head as I settle into my chair, taller palms outside the patio swaying in the ocean breeze.

  “Are y’all eating today or just having drinks?” the server asks us.

  “Just drinks,” Harrison says, then looks at me. “Unless you want food?”

  “No, I’m good. I’ll have a margarita, please, on the rocks.”

  “You bet.” She looks to Harrison, who orders a beer.

  “This beer is gonna taste great. Haven’t had one in nearly two weeks. Although I did overdo it on scotch the other night.” He grimaces, then meets my eyes.

  I tip my head. “The night we talked.”

  “Yeah. Wasn’t doing so hot the next day. I needed to get my shit together. Had a painful convo with my parents. And then with Everly. She gave me hell and told me what a selfish prick I am.”

  My eyes widen.

  “I am so, so sorry, Arya.” His voice is full of sorrow, his eyes shadowed with regret. “For so many things.”

  My lips quiver. I keep my gaze fastened on him.

  “I did awful things to you,” he goes on, his voice deep and thick. “I thought I was being determined, going after what I wanted. I wanted you.” He meets my eyes, his dark and sorrowful.

  I blink rapidly. “I-I know.”

  The server brings our drinks, pausing our conversation for a moment.

 
“But that wasn’t the right way to do it,” he continues. “I had no idea what you’d been through and I was an idiot, showing up at your classes, pushing you to go out with me. I want you to know that I didn’t leave because I can’t handle what happened to you. I left because I realized what an asshole I’d been to you. And then…the worst thing, which I didn’t even realize until Everly kicked my ass, was freaking out when you told me what happened to you. I was so guilty and ashamed about how I’d behaved, and it shouldn’t have been about me, it should have been about you and what you went through, and I wasn’t there for you.”

  “Oh, Harrison.” My throat aches and I swallow painfully.

  “You said I scared you…and I’ll never forgive myself for that.” His voice catches on the last word.

  “No!” I sit up straight and reach out a hand to cover his. “You didn’t scare me.”

  “You said that…you were scared.”

  “I didn’t say that.” I grip his hand tightly. “I was scared because I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust my judgement. I wanted to go out with you. I really liked you. I mean, I was nervous about it, but it wasn’t you who made me nervous. It was myself.” I pause. “I don’t know if I’m making any sense. Please, please don’t think that you scared me.”

  Our eyes meet and hold as I beg him not to think that.

  The air thickens and pulses around us.

  “One of the things I’ve had to work on is trusting myself,” I continue in a low voice. “I blamed myself for misjudging Lucas when I first went out with him. I was afraid I’d never be able to have a relationship with someone because I was too stupid to know when someone wasn’t a good person.”

  “Christ, Arya, you’re not stupid.”

  I roll my eyes. “I felt stupid. And since then, I’ve been afraid to trust my own instincts. I was so horribly wrong that time. My instincts were telling me you were a good guy, but I was afraid to believe that.”

  He lifts his chin. “That night I showed up at your place…I did scare you.”

  I close my eyes. “Okay, yes. I know your intentions were good, though. You didn’t mean to scare me. That’s the difference between you and…” I don’t even want to say something that compares him to Lucas, because there’s no comparison. “It was my hang-up. And I know I overreacted. I told you that.”

  He nods slowly, then lifts his chin. “Okay. I get it.”

  “I should have told you.” My throat squeezes. “I should have told you what happened, and then you’d understand why I was so cautious and nervous. I’m sorry.”

  “Aw fuck, Arya, this isn’t your fault.”

  “I guess we were both messed up.”

  “Yeah.” He picks up his beer and takes a few big gulps. “I understand, though. I understand if you’re not ready for a relationship. You’ve been through a lot. I’m not here to pressure you, I sure as hell don’t want to do that. I just wanted to apologize. If you need to be left alone, I accept that.”

  I stare at him. “Oh.”

  There’s another stretched-out silence weighted with uncertainty and unspoken questions.

  “Is that what you want, Arya?” he asks quietly.

  My mouth goes soft and my chest aches. I press a hand there. Is there still a chance for us? Once again, I need to be brave. I need to be honest.

  “No,” I whisper. “That’s not what I want.” I blink at the prickle in my eyes. “I want you.”

  His eyes widen and his jaw loosens. For a moment he says nothing.

  I’m aware of my chest rising and falling with shallow, rapid breaths, but everything else has faded away, the people around us, the seagulls crying, the boats moving in the marina.

  “Really?” he finally says. He sets down his beer and reaches across the table for my hands.

  I give them to him, our fingers curling together tightly. “Really.”

  He closes his eyes. I study his face. He’s so handsome, his wide mouth now pressed firm, his square jaw dusted with stubble, his thick eyebrows pulled together above his imperfect nose. Love for him expands rapidly in my chest, pinching off my airway so I can’t breathe.

  When he lifts his eyelids, his blue eyes blaze at me, melting me. “I really want you too.”

  I smile tremulously.

  “That sounds all wrong,” he says hoarsely. “It’s a lot more than just wanting you. I want to be with you. Always. I’m falling in love with you, Arya.”

  Now my lips really quiver, my heart knocking around in my chest. “I’m falling in love with you too.”

  “Ah.” His fingers squeeze mine so tightly it almost hurts.

  “Easy, big guy.” I wiggle my fingers, and he eases the pressure.

  “Sorry, sorry.”

  I smile.

  “I’m so sorry for everything I did,” he goes on. “I can’t believe I was so insensitive. I could tell you were nervous sometimes, and I just steamrolled ahead.”

  “You really didn’t,” I say softly. “You have no idea what steamrolling really is.” I roll my eyes.

  “Christ. You’re right.”

  “I needed to know that you were really interested in me,” I add. “I was afraid I was scaring you away with my insecurity. I’m glad that you didn’t give up on us.”

  “Fuck.” He drops his head forward. “You’re amazing. You’re way too good for me.”

  “No, I’m not. We’re good for each other, I think.”

  He picks up his head. A slow smile pulls at his mouth. “Yeah. I agree.” He gives his head a shake. “We need to get out of here. I need to kiss the bejesus out of you.”

  I laugh. “I’m good with that.”

  Chapter 26

  Harrison

  “Your place or mine?”

  Arya laughs at the cliché. “Mine is closer.”

  “Perfect.” I pause. “Do you have your bike here?”

  “No. I came with Taj.”

  “Ah. He’s still working?”

  She smirks. “Yes.”

  “Also perfect. Although I have to be honest, I don’t care if he’s at your place or not, even if we break your bed banging our brains out.”

  Her smile beams and we can’t keep our hands off each other as I drive like a Formula 1 racer to her place. She’s incredibly tempting, in a pair of tight little shorts and a sports bra, although she put on a sweater before we went to Bandits. I stroke a hand down her smooth thigh, over her knee, and back up.

  Watching her lead that class was seductive as hell. Yoga’s not supposed to be sexy, but when Arya does it, it sure is. The graceful way she moves her strong, flexible body turns me on. She has an actual six pack that’s particularly visible when she arches her back and, Jesus, that’s hot. Even her face when she closes her eyes and breathes, the look of serene focus, is sexy.

  I park on the street and we enter the little cottage she shares with Taj. I spin her around, set my hands on her hips and direct her toward her bedroom.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m only interested in sex,” I tell her. “But right now, I’m only interested in sex.”

  She laughs softly, not resisting my efforts. “Good. Me too.”

  “It’s been eighty-four years….” I lament.

  She laughs louder. “Slight exaggeration.”

  “Feels like it.” In her room, I slide the sweater down her arms, my hands lingering on her skin. “You made me so hot during that class.”

  “Um.” Her chest rises and falls rapidly. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

  I bend my head and kiss the corner of her mouth. “Can’t help it.” I tilt my head and kiss her fully, at first soft presses of my mouth, then my tongue sliding out to lick over her bottom lip and inside. With a moan, she opens to me and wraps her arms around me, pressing that tight little body against me. “Fuck, yeah,” I groa
n into her mouth. I tug the hair tie off her ponytail, then gather up fistfuls of her hair in my hands.

  My blood rushes scalding hot through my veins, lust pulsing in my balls.

  I release her hair and slide my hands down to her butt. I love squeezing those firm cheeks. I pull her tighter against me, my aching dick pressing against her belly. “God, I missed you.”

  “I missed you too. So much.” Her head falls back to allow me to glide my tongue over her throat, suck her skin so gently, then kiss my way back up to her mouth.

  I want her out of these little clothes. The shorts come off easily, but the bra gives me trouble. It’s so frickin’ tight I don’t know how she can breathe.

  With a soft laugh she wrestles it off over her head.

  “There.” I feast my eyes on her tits, Christ, I love them. I cup them gently, reverently. Then my gaze lands on her scar. I go still, and so does she. I trace my fingertips over it, then raise my eyes to her. “I will never, ever hurt you. I swear to you.”

  Her eyes shine and her plump bottom lip quivers. “I know. I trust you, Harrison.”

  Emotion pushes at the walls of my chest. Those words mean so much.

  I capture her mouth in another long, soulful, achingly sweet kiss.

  Her hands slide up under my T-shirt, up my sides, over my pecs, which makes my dick twitch. I release her long enough to pull my shirt off, then she pushes my athletic shorts down. She pauses, gentle fingertips lingering on the bruises coming to color on my hip.

  I back up toward the bed, bringing her with me, still kissing her. I kneel on the bed and pull her onto her knees too, and I bend to take a nipple in my mouth. She moans, sliding her hand around my neck, over my head, holding me to her breast. Her long hair falls all around us.

  As I suck and tongue her nipple, I slide a hand down between her legs. “So wet,” I whisper against her skin. “I love that.” I slip my fingers back and forth between her pouting lips, grazing her clit. Her hands are all over me, up and down my back, my shoulders, scratching my scalp, lighting me on fire. We’re both making needy, gasping, filthy sounds as our mouths and tongues slide together, desperate for each other, wanting more, more.