Page 52 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

DANIEL

“Gracias, mama.” I shut the engine off, dropping my head on the headrest.

There’s a pause on the other line before I hear a tentative breath. “Tu papa tambien esta muy orgulloso de ti.”

“Sí, claro.” I roll my eyes.

“Daniel,” she chastises. “Por favor, no ? —”

“I’m sorry, I just got home, I’m tired, and I still have to shower.” I climb out of my car, dragging my duffle and backpack out with me.

A poignant sigh leaves her mouth. “Okay, well say hi to Josie for me and let her know I won’t forget to bring bread next time.”

I halt before inserting the key in the keyhole. “Wait, what?”

“She messaged me on Facebook the other day.” I hear the smile in her voice, the tension from a few seconds ago gone. “Told me which breads she liked the best. I promised I’d bring some today but with all the sickness going around over here, I didn’t want to be around her and get her sick.”

That shocks me. “When did she message you?”

“Just a few days ago.” I’m sure she’s plotting. “You know…she’s single.”

My jaw drops. “You asked her? Mama .” I shake my head, but I feel my cheeks warming. “What did you guys talk about?”

She laughs. “I’m not going to tell you. You’ll get annoyed.”

Usually, I do because I can’t stand that she meddles, but this time, I really want to know. Did Josie say something or anything about me? Is she interested? I shouldn’t want that, but I can’t deny that I want her so badly.

“I won’t, I promise.” I attempt to keep my voice level, but interest seeps through.

She laughs again. “I need to let you go. Estoy muy orgullosa de ti. Síguele echando ganas. Te quiero mucho.”

Of course she’d do this. The one time I really want to know. “Me too.”

As I unlock the door, my gaze draws to my bruised knuckles. Coach D had the athletic trainer look at my hand to make sure I didn’t break anything either. I told him I was fine, but he said he needed to make sure.

Bryson’s fine too, unfortunately. I didn’t see him after I got tested, but I saw the red stain on the floor. I’m not sure how bad his face is, but according to Kai, it’s pretty severe. I shouldn’t have lost my shit; I don’t even remember half of what I did.

I just remember thinking I’d never let anyone hurt Josie again.

That meant anyone talking shit or doing whatever it is that would upset her.

While she wasn’t physically there, I still think about what he put her through.

I think about that night on Christmas Day and how defeated she looked with life.

I promised her I’d help her fill the emptiness, and I promised myself she’d never have to go through life alone.

I’m not suspended, but Coach wants to see me tomorrow before the game. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I know it’s not going to be good.

My phone vibrates in my palm, multiple notifications lighting up the screen. They’re all individual ones from most of my teammates and then the group chat with the guys. I ignore them, pocketing my phone as I shut the door behind me because I’m still mad.

I stop in the living room, looking around but there’s no sign of Josie anywhere. It’s Friday and close to ten p.m. She could be asleep, but that’s highly unlikely. Most of the time she stays up late, either doing homework or swimming.

Just as I think that, she slips inside, a towel wrapped around her body and hair in a ponytail soaking wet.

I feel grounded. That’s what seeing her makes me feel.

“Hey, Garcia.” Those dark eyes soften, and relief washes over her.

I didn’t notice it before but after she told me about her mom, I realized how on edge she looks when I’m home later than usual.

I know it worries her even though she hasn’t voiced it out loud because I feel the same when she’s in the water.

It’s ridiculous considering she knows how to swim, but anything can happen.

Still, to lessen her worries, I update her when I can. I don’t give her a specific time when I’ll be home, but I let her know I’m on my way.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I drop my stuff on the ground, cut the distance between us, and cup her face, closing the space between our lips.

She gasps into my mouth but doesn’t push me away. I hear the faint smack of her wet towel hit the floor as her hands circle around my neck and lips part. I slip my tongue inside her waiting mouth, kissing her fiercely and possessively.

I’m kissing her fervently, not allowing her to catch air when she begins to pant and breathe harshly. Still, she doesn’t push me away. She lets me deepen the kiss, tasting every inch of her mouth, stroking my tongue with hers.

It’s angry, wet, and sloppy but neither one of us breaks it off. I can’t get enough of her, I need more, and I know she feels the same way because she’s letting me devour her mouth.

When I pull back, she heaves a large intake of air. She looks up at me, her brown eyes dark and intense, lips wet and swollen.

I rest my forehead against hers. All the pent-up frustration I was feeling is now gone. “Hi, Jos.”

She huffs, licking her lips. “Hey Garcia.”

I lick my own, wanting more, but I restrain myself and pull back because it just dawned on me that I’m still dirty. I didn’t shower because I didn’t feel like being around the guys.

Bending down, I pick up her towel and wrap it around her.

“Thanks.” Her gaze gravitates towards my lips that pulse and burn with the need to latch them back on hers. “Congrats on your win, Cap.”

“Let me hear it.” I grin.

She cocks a brow. “Hear what?”

“You know exactly what.”

Her lips twitch. “If you’re talking about me stroking your ego, you’re sorely mistaken. The analysts on TV did that enough.”

“But they’re not who I want to hear it from.”

She scoffs a laugh and walks past me. “Good game, Cap,” she says condescendingly then scrunches her nose.

“What?” I pick up my duffle and follow behind her as she heads up the stairs.

“Did your sixty-million-dollar showers stop working?”

The baseball facility got remodeled a year ago and apparently that’s how much it cost.

My smile widens. “Nah, it was late so I decided to shower here. Can I not do that?”

“You can but at what cost?” She glances over her shoulder as she climbs the steps, scowling. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“I don’t smell that…” I smell myself. Jesus. “Don’t worry, I’ll scrub extra hard.”

“Please do. I’m going to have to spray the entire house down,” she says when we’re at the top and stop in the middle, standing in front of our bedroom doors.

I laugh and she smiles. Neither one of us says a word.

I feel alive. That’s what talking to her makes me feel.

She opens her mouth, I open mine, but still no words come out.

I inhale, she softly exhales, but silence still fills the space. It’s thick, hot, and suffocating in a way I don’t hate. Suffocating in the way I want to feel her thighs squeeze around my head.

Is she thinking what I’m thinking? Does she want what I want?

“Well…I’m gonna go shower.” I toss my thumb over my shoulder, slowly walking backward.

“Please do.” She takes a step back then spins before she looks over her shoulder at me. Her lips part but then she closes them as well as the door behind her.

I breathe out, tipping my head back before I slip into my own room. I drop my bag, toe my shoes off, and head into the shower.

I’m not sure how long I stand under the hot stream after I’ve washed my hair and body, debating whether I want to wrap my hand around my dick or get out.

I’m already painfully hard and throbbing. I feel myself leaking precum, desperate for release.

Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead against the marbled tile, still contemplating whether I should or shouldn’t jack off to the thought of Josie.

Fuck it.

I slip my hand around my shaft. A groan ripples from the back of my throat as I firmly glide my palm down the length and feel it pulse beneath the rough movement.

“Fuck,” I grit under my breath, gliding the pad of my thumb over the crown.

I repeat the motion, slow, firm, and steady, wanting to prolong this for as long as I can as I fantasize about Josie.

I think about Valentine’s Day, her laying on the lounge chair and yesterday, her outside the pool.

I think about all the things I’d still love to do to her and all the things I’d love for her to do to me.

All that comes to a staggering stop as a shadow catches the corner of my eye. I swiftly look over my shoulder before I look away, but I do a double take, hand freezing mid stroke.

Josie’s in my bathroom, a different towel wrapped around her body, hair down and still soaking wet.

There’s no way…I’m dreaming…there’s no way she’s here…is she really here?

“Why’d you stop?” she asks as she approaches the shower, hands clutching her towel.

“Because this isn’t real…” I quietly say, not to her but to myself.

She wets her lips, her brown eyes molten and hooded as she drops her towel, letting it pool around her feet. She stands outside the shower. Her wet, naked body glistens under the bright lights.

“Were you thinking of me?” she asks, voice soft, spurring my dick to throb harder. “ Are you thinking of me and how you kissed me? Because I was.”

This isn’t a dream because she steps in, standing in front me. Her eyes coast down to my hand around my length and they go round, almost in stupefaction as if she hadn’t really paid attention to it until now.

The column of her throat bobs and when her eyes meet mine again, I note how blown her pupils are. Her cheeks are stained a cherry red.

“All the fucking time,” I moan and resume gliding my palm up and down. “Every minute of the day.”

She licks her lips again, eyes flicking to the motion briefly. “I want to do that.”

“Do what?” I grunt, slowing down before I come.

I know this isn’t a dream I conjured up, but I’m still afraid to wake up and it being one.

I can’t believe she’s here, that she was thinking what I was thinking. Could this mean that she might feel what I feel?

I don’t ask, but I’ll keep wondering it.