CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE #2
I gave the boxed motorbike one last look, unsure if he’d ever want to build it, and followed him out.
Thankfully, nobody asked questions when we sat again. Though quieter, Asher made an effort to keep the conversation going.
When the plates were cleared, Maricarmen caught my eye and winked as she stood.
“I’ll be back,” I told Ash. Alejandro was already gathering dishes as I followed her into the kitchen.
“What was in that package?” she asked, pulling Asher’s birthday cake from the fridge. “Ash looked pale.”
“A gift from Miguel,” I said, fishing a lighter from the drawer. “It just surprised him, but he’ll be fine.”
“Oh, dios mío.” Maricarmen shook her head. “It’s always something, isn’t it? Escucha, mi nina.” Her voice lowered. “I’m staying at Dawson’s tonight. You two need some time alone.”
My cheeks flushed. “If you want to be with Dawson, go, but don’t do it because of us.”
She nudged me with a playful smile. “I want a date night too. Have fun while you’re young and in love.”
I pressed a twenty-four candle into the strawberry and whipped cream cake Asher had loved since he was a boy. “Thank you. We’ll clean up so you don’t have to think about dishes.”
“I only worry about that boy. I don’t know what the hell Miguel is thinking, but he better have a good reason.”
None came to mind. Ignoring someone for years, then sending him a gift—it didn’t add up.
“And Sharon still hasn’t called,” Maricarmen muttered. “What could be more important than your child’s birthday?”
Forgetting was exactly the kind of thing Asher’s mother would do. Still, I hoped she’d call, for his sake—even though all I’d gotten from my father on my twenty-first in October was a text. Sometimes their silence felt like punishment.
The kitchen door swung open and Alejandro came in, balancing a stack of dishes.
“Leave them in the sink,” Maricarmen said. “How’s Asher?”
“Waiting for his cake.” He winked. “And his girl.”
I handed him dessert plates. “I better hurry, then.”
Maricarmen carried the cake out. Dawson lit the candle, and I leaned my head on Asher’s shoulder while everyone sang Cumpleanos Feliz. He made a wish, eyes soft when they met mine, then blew out the candle to the sound of cheers.
“Hope what you wished for comes true,” I said as Maricarmen sliced the cake.
Asher kissed the tip of my nose. “It already did.”
***
The famous Spanish sobremesa—the tradition of lingering over coffee after a meal—stretched into the evening. Rys left first, then Alejandro, Dawson, and Maricarmen.
Now it was Javi’s turn. “I’m happy things worked out between you two,” he said, hugging me tight. “Otherwise, Asher would’ve moped forever.”
I chuckled. “We both would.”
“Okay.” He released me. “Say hi to your friend. Doubt she remembers me, but do it anyway.”
Asher stepped out of the house and pulled Javi into a hug. “Good luck in Seville tomorrow, and thanks for coming, tío.”
“Take care,” Javi said. “Hopefully I’ll see you when you come race here.”
Two of Asher’s races would be in Jerez and Aragón. I tried not to think about the season ahead—weeks, maybe months, apart.
“Count on it.”
We said goodbye, and Javi climbed into his Porsche. The engine rumbled before he rolled out of the yard and disappeared from view.
“Finally alone, peque.” Asher hugged me from behind, nuzzling into my neck. “But it was a great birthday. Thank you.”
“It’s not over yet.” I laced my fingers through his. “But first, dishes. I promised your grandma we’d tidy up.”
In the kitchen, we worked side by side, rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher. Asher was quieter than usual. I guessed it had to do with Miguel.
“Thinking about his gift?” I asked.
“Nothing to think about. I’m not emailing him. If he wanted to talk, he’d have found a way.”
Asher’s phone buzzed on the table. I handed it to him, and he wiped his hands before unlocking it.
“A text from my mother,” he said. “‘Happy birthday, Asher.’ Thanks, I guess. Both she and Miguel must take word economy seriously.” He set the phone on the counter with a sigh.
She couldn’t even call? “I’m sorry, Ash.” I passed him the last dish. When it was rinsed, we started the dishwasher, and he pulled me into a hug.
“Wait,” I whispered as his kisses trailed down my neck. “I have something for you.”
“Apart from the best birthday party and the best weeks here? Way to spoil me, peque.”
From my pocket, I pulled a small box and revealed a silver chain with a four-leaf clover.
“You’ll need some luck when the season starts,” I said, fastening it around his neck.
He crushed me in another hug. “Thank you. I’m the luckiest because I have you. And you’ve turned me into someone awfully needy,” he murmured, kissing my hair. “I can’t get enough of you.”
Anticipation sent my pulse racing. “Wait five minutes and come to our room.”
He cocked a brow. “Another surprise?”
“A promise I made.” Maybe he’d forgotten, but I hadn’t.
Arms crossed, he leaned against the counter, watching as I dashed upstairs.
I took the steps two at a time. In our bedroom, I stripped, grinning as I slipped into one of his racing jackets.
A shiver ran over my skin at the cool material against heat.
I brushed my hair quickly, then sat on the bed, breathless as if I’d just run miles.
The door creaked open. Asher stood in the doorway, staring. “Joder, peque. You’re lucky we’re alone.”
“Why?” My voice caught in a whisper.
He came toward me slowly, gaze roaming every inch of exposed skin as if his eyes alone could touch me. “Because there’s no way I’ll let you be quiet.”
Asher knelt by the bed and gripped my hips, pulling me to the edge. He parted my legs slowly, kissing below my belly button, then dragging his mouth lower until it covered my sex. Hot. Wet. Shameless.
“Forget the cake,” he murmured. “This is my new favorite.”
His tongue slid over me, holding my thighs apart. I buried my fingers in his hair, biting down on a moan when he found my clit and nudged softly. He was unhurried, savoring me—but he was still dressed, and it was his birthday. I wanted something for him too.
I tangled my fingers in the short hair at his nape. “I want you naked, Ash.”
He bit my inner thigh. “And I want you to come—like this first, then with me inside you.”
I tugged at the thin cotton of his shirt. “I just want to feel you.”
He yanked it over his head and let it fall to the rug. I went straight for the button of his jeans. He was already hard. Ready. The memory of him in my mouth surged as I freed him from his underwear.
He pulsed in my hand as I closed my fist around him, running my thumb over the swollen tip.
He shuddered. “Fuck, Kaia.”
“Come here,” I whispered.
My breath hitched when he leaned in, resting a knee on the bed, his face an inch from mine. I traced the shape of his lips with my fingertips until he caught them between his teeth and sucked, eyes dark and fixed on me.
Everything happened at once—his mouth on my neck, his fingers sliding inside me, slow and deliberate.
“You’re drenched.” He tugged my earlobe with his teeth, fingers pumping deeper, finding the spot that made me wetter with every thrust.
I was teetering on the edge, one brush of his thumb away from release.
He pushed the racing jacket off my shoulders and down my arms, then slipped his fingers free and lifted me effortlessly.
Setting me on the desk, he said, voice rough with impatience, “Lean back. Open your legs.”
I obeyed, every movement tracked by his rapt gaze. Then he stepped back, reaching for the nightstand. “Condom,” he muttered, as though apologizing for pausing.
“Don’t.”
Asher froze. “Are you sure?”
“I went on birth control. The cramps were too bad. And I know you haven’t been with anyone.”
He was in front of me in a second, hair mussed, eyes burning. I gripped the desk, spreading wider, offering myself.
“Fuck,” he breathed, burying his hands in my hair before crushing his mouth to mine.
The tip of his cock brushed my entrance, but he lingered, savoring me as our tongues tangled. A heady rush overtook me. I wrapped my hand around him, guiding him inside.
Panting, he slid in, inch by inch. Deep. Perfect. His palms cradled my face as his breath mingled with mine.
“Need a moment,” he whispered. “Feels too good.”
I clenched around him, every pulse amplified with nothing between us. He kissed the skin below my ear, pressing his forehead to mine as he began to move.
Slow thrusts. A glide that stole my breath. My fingers dug into his shoulders, then he pulled out completely.
“Look down,” he rasped. “Look at us.”
He pushed all the way in. I gasped, and a strained chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Perfect. You’re perfect for me.”
The tingle at the base of my spine flared. He drove into me harder, faster, rougher. I wanted more—more of his mouth, more of his skin, more of the dangerous fire that burned so sweet I leaned into it willingly. His hands gripped my ass, rough and impatient, pulling me closer with every thrust.
I wrapped my legs around his hips and found my clit with my fingers. He made me so needy. So desperate.
I rubbed in circles, closer and closer to the edge—until Asher’s hands slid under my ass. He lifted me, moved me to the bed. “On your hands and knees,” he commanded.
A shiver shot through me. I couldn’t see him in this position, but his heat pressed behind me. He slid back in, and a whimper tore from my throat.
“Keep touching yourself.” He kissed a path up my spine, pressing me down until my cheek met the pillow. His hands locked on my hips, thrusting harder, matching the glide of my fingers against my clit.
“Don’t stop,” he panted. “Not until I tell you.”
Pressure coiled in my core. I clenched around him, and he groaned, his rhythm stuttering.
I rubbed faster, slicking my wetness over my clit.
“Ash,” I whimpered into the pillow. Spasms racked me, one after another, my body clenching, tears slipping free.
Abruptly, he pulled out and rolled me onto my back. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he kissed the tears from my cheeks and drove into me again, my climax still rippling through me.
“So good.” His thrusts turned ragged, self-control unraveling. “So fucking good.”
I grabbed his face and kissed him—hungry, messy, full of trust. Love.
Asher tensed, body shuddering with release. With a groan, he came inside me. I threaded my fingers through his sweat-damp hair, rubbed his slick back, soothed him until I felt his smile against my neck.
He pulled out slowly, then gathered me close, arms strong around me. For a few quiet moments, I lay in his embrace, my head tucked beneath his chin, his hands gliding over my curves. I still felt him inside me. My heart still raced, fueled by enough adrenaline to last for hours.
“Te amo,” Asher whispered.
I kissed his jaw. “Yo más.”
“And you said I needed luck.” His gaze softened. “I don’t, peque. I only need you.”