by Kendall Ryan
I’m not gonna lie; my chest puffs out a little with pride. But then I can’t focus on anything else, because Bailey knows exactly how to handle my favorite appendage. Long, firm strokes that make my abdominal muscles tighten.
“Fuck. That feels good,” I whisper, finding her mouth with mine again.
As I thrust into her fist, a shiver rolls through me. I groan, unable to do anything but make rough, inarticulate sounds that vibrate through the small bathroom.
“How set are you on this shower?” I glance at the tiny shower stall, and then at the big bed in the other room.
“I don’t mind you a little sweaty.” The grin on her full mouth is cheeky and playful.
I did shower this morning after surfing. How gross could I have gotten running errands for an hour?
But when Bailey lowers herself to her knees in front of me and looks up at me with her big brown eyes, the decision is made for me.
12
* * *
Expect the Unexpected
Bailey
I’m a smart girl who’s capable of many things, but practicing restraint around Asher Reed isn’t one of them.
When I drop to my knees on the bathroom floor right in front of him, his lips part on a shaky breath, which quickly becomes a stuttered moan when I wrap my hand around him. To answer Aubree’s question, Asher doesn’t disappoint in the endowment department. There’s a lot of him, and I’m eager to please every solid inch.
From the moment I saw him on the beach this morning, his blond hair wet and tousled with sea water, biceps flexing as he lugged that surfboard up the shoreline, I knew what I wanted. Him. Like this. Stripped down and fully at my disposal. And just a few short hours later, that’s exactly what I have, and I don’t even know where to start. I’m greedy, and Asher offers so much.
He stands over me like a statue carved from granite—utterly still except for his sculpted chest, which hitches with short, uneven breaths, as his thick length throbs in my hands.
I run my palm from his base to his swollen tip, testing his size with lazy, teasing strokes. I know I should take things slow and enjoy every inch and moment, exactly like he did with me last night. But it’s hard to go slow with him gazing down at me with a desperate, yet appreciative expression.
“Oh fuck,” he whispers as I welcome the first few inches of him into my mouth. A low, satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. This man. God. This huge, hulking, muscular beast of a man is coming apart, and it’s all for me.
I wish I could bottle the noises he’s making. Deep groans, halting breaths, and the most delicious-sounding choked grunts. But I can’t do that, of course. I can’t even focus long enough on those sexy noises to confidently commit them to memory because I’m too lost in the moment, too far gone. Too drunk on him and all this brooding, sexual masculinity to even focus on gathering breath in my lungs. I suck in a shocked gasp of air and bring my mouth to him again, treating the broad tip of him to a slow, wet kiss.
You know when you’re really bringing your A game—and, trust me, this is my A+ game. Wet from my curious mouth, his length slides deep easily and I swallow him down, my hands pumping his base while my mouth does wicked things that make his abs tighten and his thighs tremble.
“Jesus, Bailey.” He swallows the words. “Gonna fucking kill me.”
The muscles in his thighs bunch as I start to bob my head, and I can tell we’re both hanging on to the last threads of our self-control. All it takes is one more taste of him, and the threads snap. I can’t tease him for another second.
Hold on tight, Ashe. I’m going to take you for the ride of a lifetime.
“Yes, just like that.” He fights off a hard shiver as his hand slips into the hair at the back of my neck. Not tugging on it, or urging me closer, just enjoying the feel of us joining together this way. I like it way too much.
I can’t resist peeking up at him to see if his expression matches the delicious, sexy noises he’s making. As I look up at him through my lashes, my hands and mouth still steadily working him over, our gazes meet just long enough for me to lose myself in the sapphire of his eyes. They’re the deep blue of a stormy sea, and just one glance has me drowning in them, shipwrecked with no hope of survival. At least, that’s what it feels like in this moment.
And then those perfect, stormy blue eyes sink closed. He bites his bottom lip, a desperate attempt to hold back the groan building in his chest. But even through his clenched teeth, I can hear his need, can feel it vibrating through him. I know the feeling all too well—it’s the same one pulsating between my thighs. But just as I feel his body stiffen and his muscles jump, he pulls away.
“Is . . . is something wrong?” I ask, panting with need. Maybe I wasn’t doing as good of a job as I thought, but I could have sworn I had him right on the edge. “Don’t you want to, you know, finish?”
“I was about to,” he says, looking down at me with kind eyes. “But I need to get you there first.”
A hot chill races through me. That is by far the sexiest thing a man has ever said to me. And as much as I want to take him up on the offer, I’d be stupid not to consider his injury first. “What about your leg?”
“My leg will be fine. You’ve taken good care of it.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “You’ve taken damn good care of my third leg too. But no way am I finishing without getting you off too.”
He helps me to my feet, pulling me in for a deep, grateful kiss. “Bedroom,” he growls against my mouth.
I don’t know if it’s a suggestion, a request, or a command. However he intended it, I’m perched on the edge of his bed in a matter of seconds, shimmying my denim shorts down to the floor. When Asher spots the pink swimsuit bottoms I have on underneath, he shakes his head in disbelief.
“That damn pink bikini.” He sighs. “I think that thing is my weakness.”
“Maybe I should wear it more often then.”
“You should.” A wicked flicker dances through his eyes as he loops his thumbs into the waistband. “But right now, I need it gone.”
A shudder rolls through me as he tugs the hot-pink nylon to the floor. Next goes my T-shirt, and finally, with a pull of the bow holding up my bikini top, there’s not a trace of clothing between the two of us. Nothing but skin on skin, kissing and rubbing and heat more searing than the sun. I lean back against the pillows, and Asher takes his time, exploring every inch of my curves with his calloused fingers.
“Good Lord, Bailey.” He cups my breasts in his hands, sweeping his tongue over his bottom lip as he thumbs my nipples. “These are fucking perfect.”
My breathing grows ragged, and I try to push my lower half toward his. I guide one of his hands to the space between my legs, letting him know what I want, and he groans in approval.
“Fucking incredible,” he whispers. “So wet. So perfect.”
And then, for the second time this evening, Asher pulls back. He gets up from the bed and digs into his duffel, fishing out a silver wrapper.
“Just in case,” he says, meeting my eyes.
A hot thrill runs through me at his low, sultry words. In case I want to have sex. Why does he think that would even be a question? Doesn’t he know how hot he is? How much I want him? Even if the next few days are all I get….
“You packed condoms?” I ask with a grin, propping myself up on my elbows to get a good view of his sexy physique as he moves back onto the bed beside me. “Were you expecting something between you and me?”
“Of course not. This was entirely unexpected.” He kneels between my parted thighs and runs one warm palm over my calf muscle. “Hoped for? Sure. But not expected.” He presses a sweet, gentle kiss against my eager mouth, tugging lightly on my bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls back. “You okay?”
The look in his blue gaze is sincere, and I realize I feel the exact same way. I never expected this, but I did secretly hope we’d end up here.
Then he nods toward the condom lying beside us on the bed. “Should I put that on?”
Before I can think twice, Asher has suited up and is back to his spot between my parted thighs, rocking his hips into mine. I gather a breath into my lungs as he sinks into me, delicious slow inch by delicious slow inch. And, good God, he was worth the wait.
“F-fuck, Ashe,” I stutter, my hips rising to meet his, eager for every inch.
“Hmm,” he groans, simultaneously posing no question in particular and a hundred questions all at once. But words aren’t necessary. I know exactly what he’s asking.
Is that good?
Should I keep going?
Can I go deeper?
Can I make you come this way?
I answer all of the unspoken questions at once on a desperate sigh. “Yes.”
He presses his lips to mine, quieting me as he moves, leaving me breathless and digging my fingernails into his back. Even when he breaks our kiss, his lips hover over mine as our hips move in time together. We’re breathing the same air, moving to the same rhythm, crashing into each other like tides against the shore. It’s not good, it’s not even great—it’s mind blowing.
When he brings one hand to my clit, drawing circles around it with his thumb, I lose all hope of hanging on any longer. Soon I’m clenching against his length, right on the edge of my orgasm.
“Holy fuck, Asher.” I gasp. “I’m going to—”
“Me too, baby.”
With a few final thrusts, we go tumbling over the edge together, one after the other. I don’t even know who goes first. But we’re together in this moment, him and me, grinding our hips and riding out the last of our own separate storms.
Keep your day on the beach. This, right here, is freaking paradise.
As I come down from my high, I don’t get to float back to reality as I would have hoped. Instead, I’m shot out of the sky as the look of bliss on Asher’s face morphs from an appreciative smile to a slight frown, then turns into a full-on grimace.
“Fucking shit.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Panic rises in my throat as he eases out of me and rolls onto his side, gripping his thigh.
Of course he’s not okay. He’s recovering from a serious injury and was specifically instructed to avoid vigorous activity. And what we just did definitely qualifies as vigorous. Holy shit, how am I going to explain this to Trey?
“I’m fine.” He hisses out the words through clenched teeth. Tentatively, he drags one hand along his inner thigh, and his face twists again as he sucks in a sharp breath. “But my leg might not be.”
I clap one hand over my mouth, leaping to my feet. “Oh my God, Ashe, I’m so sorry. Do you need ice? Do you need an Advil?” I fumble for my bikini and my denim cutoffs, getting dressed faster than a high schooler after gym class.
It’s official, I’m the worst doctor ever. I’d better start drafting an apology note to Trey and start reconsidering careers.
Asher smiles, sitting up in bed and combing his fingers through his tousled blond locks. “Please don’t freak out. Every moment of that was totally worth it.”
I raise a brow at him. “Really? Is sex with me really worth sustaining a secondary injury?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” He rubs his swollen inner thigh, flinching at the soreness. “But you’re right. I should probably ice this.”
I let out a shaky exhale as I retrieve his shorts, making sure he’s decent before I open the door to go retrieve an ice pack from the freezer. On my way, I pass by Lolli and Tess, who are busy arranging centerpieces for tomorrow’s party, but they just wave as I pass. They don’t suspect a thing. My trips to the freezer for Asher’s ice packs have been a routine part of the week. For all they know, this time is no different. They might find out about his aggravated injury, but no way am I letting them find out what caused it.
When I return to his room, Asher has taken care of the condom and gotten dressed. When I sit down beside him on the bed, he smiles up at me, scooting closer. He knows the drill by now, hiking up the leg of his shorts so I can ice the most swollen part of his thigh. When I press the ice pack against his leg, he cringes a bit more than usual, but a precursory glance at the swelling doesn’t indicate any additional damage.
“What’s the verdict, Doc?” he asks after I’ve inspected him for a moment.
“I think we’ve got one very aggravated groin sprain, and one very guilty-feeling doctor.”
He laughs, giving me a soft look. “Don’t feel guilty. I’m the one who suggested we take this to bed. It takes two to tango, you know.”
I weigh his words, drawing a slow breath. “That’s true. And the good news is, if we’d taken you from a grade-two to a grade-three pulled muscle, you’d probably be screaming right now. So the fact that you’re doing well enough to get up and get dressed suggests that we may have only set you back a few days of recovery.”
“I can handle that.” He shrugs.
“Let me know if you notice any additional bruising. We need you in good shape so you can soon be out there on the ice with your team again,” I say, squeezing his shoulder. “Need anything else?”
He looks up at me with a hope-filled expression. “A kiss good night?”
I smile, tracing the angle of his jaw with my fingertips. “To use your words, I can handle that.”
13
* * *
Celebrations
Asher
“What in the world?” Lolli frowns at me as I hobble past her, limping on my way to the coffee maker. “Rough night, sugarplum?”
Fuck. I can’t exactly tell my grandmother that the gorgeous houseguest she opened her home to re-sprained my groin when I rode her too hard last night. Even if it was totally worth it, and I’d do it a hundred times over.
“No. I’m fine,” I lie. Wincing silently, I grip the countertop hard enough to turn my knuckles white.
“Fine, my tail feather. Go sit down. I’ll bring you coffee. And some frozen peas.” Lolli waves me from the room and I shuffle into the sunroom, sinking onto the rattan sofa carefully.
Ouch.
Less than a minute later, she’s back, standing before me with that same worried expression. “Here you go.” Lolli sets a steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of me and hands me the same bag of frozen peas I used my first day here.
“Oh. Almost forgot . . . Happy birthday, Lolli.” I look up at her and grin.
“Thanks, honey. It’s so nice to have the family all together to celebrate.”
I nod. The big party is tonight.
I can’t believe how fast this week has gone by. I also can’t believe how wrapped up in Bailey I’ve been. But one thing’s for certain—I regret nothing.
Lolli’s mouth lifts in a conspiratorial grin as she watches me. “I went by Bailey’s room last night to see if she wanted to join me for tea on the veranda this morning, but she wasn’t in her bedroom.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” I take a casual sip of my coffee.
“You were always a terrible liar, Ashe.”
I grin at her. “Have a good day, Lolli.”
With a chuckle, Lolli wanders back into the kitchen.
Later that day, Nora and Todd are released from the hospital with my brand-new niece, Hannah. She’s so tiny and pink and adorable. And since neither of us can do more than lounge around, I end up holding her most of the day while I’m camped out on the couch. Nora and Todd take turns napping, and Nora stops by every two hours to nurse Hannah, but for the most part, the baby and I are left to our own devices. Me, sprawled across the sofa with ice and tape on my leg, and Hannah wrapped neatly like a burrito, resting on my chest.
The hockey game is on in the background, but I can hardly bring myself to watch it. My team is down by two games
this series, and I feel sick that I’m not there to help them. I’ve never been more thankful for all the distractions of the big family reunion that’s about to get underway.
My cousins are helping set up extra outdoor tables and chairs, and Bailey is helping my mom in the kitchen. She threatened anyone who asked if I was able to help, and has made sure I’ve been off my feet all day, which I’m pretty thankful for.
When Nora comes to nurse Hannah again, I decide it’s time to get myself ready for this party. With a groan, I slowly make it up the stairs and shower.
As I emerge from my room dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, Bailey is just leaving her room too. She stops in front of me, dressed in a light blue cotton dress with buttons down the front. Her feet are bare, which means she looks even tinier, and dangling from her hand are a pair of sandals.
“Hey.” I grin down at her.
“Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”
Ignoring her question, I softly touch her cheek. “I want you in my bed tonight.”
Bailey’s lips part on an inhale. “I don’t want to injure you again.”
“That was totally worth it,” I say in earnest, but Bailey gives me an uncertain look. “You ready for this party?” I grin, trying to lighten the mood.
“I can’t say I’ve ever been to an eighty-fifth birthday party before.” She chuckles, her cheeks turning the softest shade of pink.
I smile back at her. I would have been happy to stand here lost in the warmth of her eyes, but the noise from the party carries up the stairs, pulling Bailey’s attention away. The shock of hearty laughter from Lolli is a welcome sound, though. I’ve been becoming all too aware of the need to commit that sound to memory. Aware of the fact that my funny, loving, and sometimes intrusive grandmother isn’t going to be around forever.
But before I can dwell on it further, Bailey flashes me a kind smile and starts down the stairs. I quickly follow.
The party is already in full swing. A three-piece jazz band is setting up on the back deck. The kitchen counters hold aluminum chafing trays covered in foil, and the aroma of Mexican food from Miguel’s—my favorite restaurant on the island—makes me grateful I resisted a second helping at lunch. Because I’m going to crush whatever is in those trays.
