20. Ash
20
ASH
I know the exact time both of them leave her house.
Not because I’m keeping track. Not because I give a shit.
It’s because, from my bedroom window, I have a direct view into hers.
And fuck, I didn’t even know I had voyeuristic tendencies until tonight, but I was right there, my hand wrapped around my cock for close to an hour, watching her get ruined.
I watched her take them, let them use her. I heard the muffled sounds through the walls because these houses clearly don’t have enough insulation in the walls.
I should feel guilty. I should stop thinking about it.
But I don’t.
I turn on the TV, scrolling mindlessly. Anything to distract myself.
The house is still mostly empty. I got the couch delivered yesterday, a sleek black leather thing that looks better than it sits. The coffee table came this morning—solid oak, heavier than I expected.
The bed frame is still missing, so my mattress is on the goddamn floor. No dining table yet, no barstools for the counter.
Just me, this oversized couch, and a TV mounted on a wall I haven’t even decorated.
I should be unpacking. Or sleeping.
Instead, I’m thinking about her. And that’s why, when I hear a knock on my door half an hour later, I hesitate.
I know it’s her before I even open it. I can smell her… and them… still clinging to her skin.
I run a hand over my jaw, exhaling hard, before pulling the door open.
She’s standing there, barefoot, wearing tiny sleep shorts and an oversized hoodie, her hair still a little messy. She’s holding a bag of takeout.
She smiles. “Hey.”
I lean against the doorframe. “Hey.”
“We ordered way too much food,” she says, lifting the bag. “Figured you might be hungry.”
I eye the bag, then her. “You sure you wanna be standing at my door dressed like that?”
Her lips twitch. “Are you inviting me in?”
I let out a slow breath and step back. “Yeah.”
She walks in, heading straight for the couch like she’s been here before, setting the food down. She hesitates for a second, then looks at me. “About earlier?—”
I sit beside her, stretching my legs out. “You sorry?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I know it’s complicated. You’re only here for six months, and—” She stops, biting her lip. “But you feel it too, right?”
I hold her gaze. I nod once.
She exhales, shifting closer. “Okay.”
I lift a hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I watched you. My bedroom looks into yours and I saw them.”
Her breath catches. A flush spreads across her cheeks, down her neck. “You?—”
I nod. “Saw everything. I saw them fuck you. Fuck, babe. I saw you cry and moan and choke on cock for close to ten minutes.”
She turns pink, freckles standing out. “And?”
I drag my thumb over her lower lip, careful. “I’ve never been involved in anything like this. But I like you and I want to try.”
She swallows, her gaze dropping to my mouth. “You’ve made that obvious.”
“Have I?”
She smiles, barely, then nods. “Yeah.”
I don’t think. I just lean in, brushing my lips against hers. Testing.
She exhales against me, her lips still swollen and bruised. I keep it slow, gentle, pulling back just enough to gauge her reaction.
Her fingers curl into my shirt. “More.”
I smirk, kissing her again, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. She tastes like sweet tea and something rich, something addictive.
My hand slides down her back, settling on her waist, feeling the heat of her skin through the hoodie.
She shifts, pressing closer, her thigh sliding over mine, and a low sound escapes me.
I break the kiss, pressing my forehead to hers. “I got something for you.”
She blinks up at me, dazed. “What?”
I reach into my pocket, pulling out the shell. “Picked it up earlier. Forgot to give it to you.”
She takes it, running her fingers over the ridges. “It’s gorgeous.”
I watch her, the way she studies it, the way her lips curve into a soft smile. Then she sets it on the table and climbs into my lap.
I exhale sharply. “Jesus, baby.”
She presses a finger to my lips. “Shut up.”
I chuckle, shaking my head before grabbing her face and kissing her deeply.
She melts into me, her body warm and soft, her hands sliding up my chest.
And we stay like that, tangled on the couch, making out like teenagers until the sun starts creeping through the damn windows.
* * *
I wake up with her still in my lap, her body warm against mine, the scent of her all over me. My neck’s stiff, my legs are numb, and there’s a knock at the door that won’t stop.
I groan. “Who the fuck?—”
She shifts, making a sleepy noise before curling closer, completely dead weight. I press my hand to her back, mumbling, “Stay here.”
When I yank open the door, Jake and Rowan stand there like it’s the most normal thing in the world to be knocking on my door at ass-crack-of-dawn o’clock.
Jake holds up a paper bag. “Brought pancakes.” He pauses, grinning as he steps inside like he owns the place. “But you’re making the coffee.”
Rowan follows him in, eyes landing on Grace, still tangled up on my couch, wrapped in my blanket.
“When the whole town wakes up today to no fish, they’ll know I was a little preoccupied,” Rowan says, deadpan.
Jake snorts, kicking the door shut behind him. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure everyone’s gonna assume you lost your mind.”
I rub my face, still half-asleep, before looking at Grace. “When the hell did you even text them?”
She lifts her head, blinking at me like she’s barely awake too. “Early.”
“Define early.”
She yawns, stretching. “Like... sometime between two and three.”
Jake makes a noise that’s half laugh, half groan. “Jesus, Grace.”
Rowan just shakes his head, amused. I give him a look. “And you’re fine with this?”
He shrugs, heading for my kitchen like he’s lived here for years. “She wanted us here. We’re here.”
I stare for a second, then exhale and turn toward my barely furnished kitchen. I’ve got the basics, including a coffee maker, which I start up immediately. Priorities.
Jake’s already on the couch, pulling Grace into his lap like it’s second nature.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was staking a claim, but I’ve seen them together enough to know he’s just like this—constantly touching her, always pulling her close.
“My guess is your love language is touch,” I say, pouring the coffee.
Jake grins. “Smart man.”
Grace rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. Then she looks at me, her face going serious. “I want you, too.”
The words land like a rock in my stomach, heavy and final. I set the coffee pot down, watching her.
She swallows. “I want you both. And I want Ash to join the pack.”
Silence.
Jake looks at Rowan, then at me. Rowan leans against the counter, crossing his arms. I take a slow breath.
“This is... new for me,” I admit, voice rough. “I’ve never?—”
“Neither have we,” Jake says.
Rowan nods. “But we want you here. With us.”
Grace looks at me, waiting. I don’t know what the fuck to say. But I know what I want.
I nod.
Her whole face lights up. “Okay.”
Jake leans back, satisfied. “Since I’m not opening the fish stall today, I can help you set up the flower shop.”
I glance at Rowan. “If you don’t mind, I still need to get more data on the tide pool.”
Rowan lifts a shoulder. “Not a problem.”
Grace grins. “Then... can we all go dancing tonight?”
I blink. “Dancing?”
Rowan and I exchange a look.
“I don’t dance,” I say.
“Same,” mutters Rowan.
But Jake immediately launches into a list of places, rattling off options until he and Grace settle on something.
“You will for me,” says Grace, and just like that, we agree.
Jake and Grace leave together, heading toward the flower shop. Rowan lingers, glancing around my half-empty place before nodding.
“I’m a good carpenter,” he says. “I can help build some stuff.”
I nod back. “I’d love that.”
Something shifts in his expression, and I realize that he’s... calmer today. Not as broody. Not as sharp around the edges.
I tilt my head. “What kind of voodoo sex magic did she pull on you?”
His mouth twitches. “Shut up.”
I laugh, shaking my head as we head toward the sea.
When we reach the tide pools, Rowan cracks open a beer, watching the waves. The sun’s rising higher, turning the water gold.
I crouch, studying the pools, tracking the movement of the fish, the currents.
Rowan takes a slow sip, watching me. “How long are you staying again?”
I glance at him. “Six months.”
He nods. “Plenty of time.”
For what? I don’t ask, however.
I just watch the tide, feeling the shift in the air, in everything.