Fixing You: A steamy summer romance. (You Collection Book 3)

by Roya Carmen

  "Me too," she said, breathless. Her soft pleading voice was not helping his composure. He had been with many women, but had never sensed such pure desire.

  "But not quite yet," he told her. "I want to savor you, discover you."

  She pressed a smile against his cheek. "I like the thought of that. I want to discover you too," she said, the words sweet like honey. "Every inch."

  He pushed her against the bed with a soft press of his large hand against her chest. She lay still as she studied him, seemingly anticipating what he would do to her. He wasn't sure what he would do. He wanted to do it all, soft sweet things, and dirty filthy things too. And her expression told him that she would let him. But mostly, he wanted to stamp her into his brain. This would be their last time together. She had said as much. 'One last time.'

  He trailed his finger along the delicate lace of her brassiere and drew lazy circles around her hardened nipple, clearly visible through the see-through fabric. Damn if that wasn't the sweetest, most perfect nipple he had ever seen. He wanted to bite it. But he restrained himself, and stroked it with the tip of his finger instead. She let out a soft cry, and he loved it. He was teasing her, and he had never had so much fun.

  He smiled playfully at her as he realized he had two hands to use, to pleasure her with. He trailed his other hand to the band of her panties, stroking the soft skin above, playing with her. She lifted her hips slightly off the bed and reached for him.

  "Not yet," he whispered. "This is about you. I want to make you come."

  She closed her eyes and threw her head back. "God..."

  With other women, it had always been a given that he would pleasure them. He was a gentleman, after all. And their pleasure was as important as his, if not even more so. But with them, he was rather just going through the motions, not really taking them in. They were really all the same to him, beautiful curves, and soft warm flesh.

  But with Kirsten, it was different. He actually craved her pleasure intensely. He reveled in her little moans, he got off when she melted into him, became unhinged, lost her senses under his touch. Every moan, every sweet breath aroused him, made him harder, made his body ache for her. It was a feast, seeing this proper little thing become someone else under his spell.

  He slipped a finger under the lace, gently pulling at her panties. This was obviously not all about getting off. It was also about making sure she would come, because once he was inside her, he wasn't sure how long he could last. Suddenly, it was like he was sixteen again.

  She squirmed as he pulled off her panties and trailed kisses along her curves and the soft curls down below. He wanted to taste and he was going to, as soon as he got her undies off and her legs wrapped around his head.

  "Ethan..." she called out his name in a long breath when his mouth landed on her sex. He licked softly at first, taking her in. She tasted as sweet as candy. She wailed and moaned, almost as if she was in pain. But he knew he wasn't hurting her. He was being tender.

  "H-harder," she cried out, the word all broken up.

  He parted her lips with a finger and glided his tongue hard against her clit, eliciting a loud groan. He loved that she was enjoying this so much. And as he went harder and faster at her, she wiggled and pressed herself against him. He dug his hands into her sweet little rear as he went at her like she was his last meal. She moaned and wailed herself into a frenzy, pulling at his hair. He stole one or two looks at her because he wanted to see... everything. She was beautiful. Her moans and breathing grew in intensity and she finally cried out when she came. Damn, little Miss Librarian was wild.

  He pulled himself to her, her taste still on his mouth. She looked spent, satiated. She opened her eyes slowly to look at him. "God, you are good at that."

  He smiled wide, rather proud of himself. "Thanks... I loved it too."

  God, he was breathtaking, leaning over her, completely naked. She trailed the tips of her fingers over his chest and sculpted abs, the skin so perfect and smooth. He flashed her a wicked grin, a spark in his eyes. He obviously wasn't quite done with her. But all she wanted to do at that moment was take him in, admire him. Her hand traveled lower. He was still big and hard for her. She reveled in the warmth of him and inched her body over his. She slithered down to take him in her mouth. He groaned loudly as she took him deeper. But as she twirled her tongue around him, she felt him tense. She didn't have too much experience in this department but she knew enough to know what makes a man tic. He pulled at her arm and brought her to him. His mouth pressed gently against hers. "I want to be inside you."

  Damn, she wanted that so much too. He reached around and unclasped her brassiere with ease, and then he peeled off the delicate straps off of her shoulder with a gentleness she had never experienced before. He was handling her like a fragile priceless piece of art. As her bra fell to the mattress, he took her breast in his mouth and the heat of his tongue coursed through her. She never wanted this to end. She liked it like this, slow and tender. She couldn't remember the last time she had been made love to like this, with such emotion and sweetness.

  She wanted to kiss him again. She craved his mouth, the taste of him. She pulled him to her and she took possession of him, her tongue and his, melting into one another, her taste still on his lips. His erection pressed again her and she could feel him lose himself. He pulled away reluctantly, a pained expression on his face. "I need to go get—"

  "It's okay," she told him. "I'm on the pill." She had always been on the pill. She had never gone off it. But now, she trusted him. Although she was fully aware of his reputation, she knew he was smart about his affairs and he would never jeopardize her health and well-being. She trusted him.

  His eyes darkened when he asked her, "Are you sure?"

  "I trust you," she told him. "I know you would never hurt me."

  "I wouldn't," he agreed. "I'm always very careful. I never..." he tried to explain. "But with you, I can..."

  She pulled him to her and kissed him again. His hands traveled through her hair, and his mouth took her with hunger. She felt a tinge of pain as he held her bottom lip hostage between his teeth, but she loved it. She reached for him, guided him to the wetness between her thighs, craving him so desperately. He let out a long sigh as he sank into her. She pressed herself hard against him and tangled her legs around him. He felt so good, she never wanted to let go. As he pressed into her repeatedly, hard and slow, she could sense her body tensing. He was going to make her come again. His mouth left hers and his breath was ragged, all over the place. He closed his eyes, seemingly struggling. "God, you feel so good. I don't know if I can—"

  "Let go," she whispered. She wanted to feel him completely, feel the strength and passion in him. He threw his head against the hollow at the base of her neck and grabbed her hips with such fierceness, he took her by surprise. And he pressed harder, deeper and pounded into her hard, the headboard bounced off the wall. It was so good, Kirsten knew she would soon fall over the edge too. As he pushed her so hard, he hurt her but also brought out her climax which had been building ever sense he had penetrated her. As the waves of pleasure consumed her whole body, she felt him still and groan into the flesh of her shoulder.

  He pulled away from her slowly. With the weight of his body off her, she suddenly felt cold and empty. She wanted him close again. Almost as if he could read her mind, he grabbed the fluffy comforter, wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him. Side by side, huddled under the soft weight of the designer silk bed cover, she might as well have been laying on a cloud. She felt so complete. "That was amazing," he whispered against her ear.

  "It was..." Sex. Making love. Whatever this was, it couldn't be beat. Sadness washed over her as she remembered they couldn't keep doing this. This had been their last time. 'One last time', she had told him. And he had nodded in full agreement.

  "I loved every second of it," he told her. "But I also love just laying here with you like this."

  She smiled. "Me too."

  Silenc
e filled the room but it wasn't uncomfortable or awkward. "Thank you," she said, her words soft. "You've made me forget all about Logan."

  The problem was now she'd have to forget all about Ethan, and although they hadn't spent five years together, she had a feeling it would be even harder. She didn't quite understand it. It was crazy.

  "The guy sounds like a jerk. He's not worth even a second of your time. I'm glad I could be of assistance."

  "I've pretty much forgotten all about him, which is crazy because we were together five years."

  His fingers trailed softly along the curve of her hip. "You probably didn't really love him."

  "And he obviously didn't love me," she pointed out. "The jerk broke up with me on the Great Wheel, of all places."

  Ethan looked at her, wide-eyed. "He did?"

  "Well, it all started there, when I realized we weren't getting engaged and that something was up. I was on the verge of tears when I got off the gondola car," she went on. "But he did the official deed at a little crêperie shop, and told me he was in love with a yoga instructor."

  "That's weak," Ethan said. "What an asshole."

  "I can't even look at that wheel anymore," she confessed. "Too many bad memories."

  He laughed. "That must be hard," he said. "She's pretty hard to miss."

  "Tell me about it."

  As he stroked her arm softly, she felt her lids getting heavier, her thoughts getting hazier. The green numbers on his digital clock indicated 3:12 AM. She was exhausted. She pressed closer to him and let herself drift away. As much as she wanted the night to last forever, she knew it couldn't.

  9

  Sorry, I never make my bed

  He took in every inch of her as she slept, the long dark lashes, the delicate nose, the hint of a smile as she slumbered, hand tucked delicately under one cheek. She slept like a princess. He had been told, that he himself, slept like an ogre, on his back, mouth opened, snoring up a storm. But she... she looked like a sweet little doll. He wanted to wake her with a naughty lick or bite but he also wanted to watch her sleep forever. He was torn. On the one hand, the longer she slept, the longer he would have her in his bed. But on the other, he had this raging erection, and he really wanted to have her again. But they had both agreed. One last time. Did that mean this was it? Or was this morning included in the whole deal?

  A morning erection is a powerful thing, powerful enough to affect someone's common sense. He had none when he pressed his lips against the curve of her hip, tasting the slightly salty skin. He pressed her flat on the bed, and his tongue traveled around her navel and below. He felt her stir and heard her moan, and realized he had woken her. But he couldn't help himself. He glanced at her and spotted a smile on her face. She was game. His little dragonfly was all in for a little morning glory.

  He traveled up her body and kissed her neck. When he got too close, she turned away from him. "I have morning breath," she mumbled. But by the way she turned and stretched her arms long above her head, propped her rear against him, her beautiful back on full display, he knew she wanted to play. She shivered as he dragged a finger along her spine, from the top of her delicate neck, all the way down to the tip of her ass crack. He grabbed her hips and lifted her bottom against his hips. She held herself at an odd angle and eased him into her, a delicious grin on her face. She was enjoying every second. He stroked her clit gently with a soft hand as he pushed into her. As the sensation hit him harder and he could sense her getting wilder and closer, he pushed harder and stroked faster until he heard the familiar moans of pleasure. And he soon lost himself in it too.

  Spent, he pulled her to him. In complete contrast to last night's love making, this had been a quickie. No kisses, no tenderness, purely for the physical pleasure of it. And that was okay too. He loved bringing her pleasure. In a perfect world, he would love to do it every day, morning, noon and night. But he knew they were not meant to be together. They were too different. She was a traditionalist, a good girl who wanted marriage, kids, and a white picket fence, and he had vowed to never ever get married. He was a player, and he'd always owned that.

  But somehow, something had changed lately. He hadn't been with another woman since that Boeuf Bourguignon dinner, and this was completely unusual for him.

  "So technically," Kirsten started, "we said 'one last time' but that was two."

  He pressed a smile against the back of her shoulder. "We've been pretty naughty."

  She laughed, the sound soft. "I like being naughty."

  He smiled. She was so sweet. "I've noticed."

  "I meant what I said though," she went on, her tone serious. "This has to be officially over between us now. You could really break my heart, you know. If we got too involved... if I got too attached."

  "You're right," he conceded as much as he didn't want to. "I agree it's probably for the best. We could be friends."

  He felt her stiffen and pull from him. "I don't think that would work, Ethan," she argued. "I think we should just be civil, say hi if we happen to run into each other, which is likely to happen. And that's it."

  A weight pressed on his chest. It was a foreign sensation. How could she be so pragmatic about it? Did she not care about him too? Or was this just a 'girl gone wild' kind of thing? He knew she didn't take a man like him seriously. She was looking for a serious, conservative, no-nonsense kind of guy. But what about Cole? He didn't quite fit that description either.

  "Why aren't you in Cole's bed this morning?" he asked, daring to go there. "Why are you in mine? You two seemed to be hitting it off last night."

  She smiled at him as she pulled her panties back on. "We just met," she explained. "I can't just jump into the man's bed. That's one of your rules, Mr. Fox, if you'll recall."

  "So I see," he scoffed. The thought of her with Cole drove him wild. "So he gets you nice and wet, and then you come to me to get fucked good and hard. Because I don't matter, do I?"

  She jerked her head back, mouth opened. "For your information, yes... the guy's gorgeous, but if anyone got me nice and wet last night, it was you. I wish it were him, but it was you."

  Her words aroused him so much, he couldn't think straight. He was left speechless as she carried on. "You're the only one who has this effect on me, who makes me want to forget everything, and just get lost..."

  "I feel the same way," he tried to explain. Did he ever. But she wouldn't listen. She grabbed her bra and robe and scurried off.

  "We're doing it again," she pointed out as she put her robe back on. "Let's just stop it. Okay? Let's just stop talking."

  And with those words, she made her way to the front door and left him standing there, naked and confused.

  He had dismissed her so easily when she had told him she wanted to end things. She wished he had fought her a little harder. 'We could be friends’. What kind of bull crap was that? She highly doubted that they could remain friends after everything they'd shared. Two people cannot make love like they did last night, and be 'friends'. She tip-toed to her room, not wanting her mother to notice her coming in at this hour. But unfortunately, Lorraine was already up, nursing a cup of coffee and doing her crossword puzzle. Damn her and her early bird ways.

  Lorraine flashed her the hugest grin she had ever seen. Kirsten bit her bottom lip, her sexy bra still in her hand, all the evidence her mother needed.

  "Yes, it is exactly what it looks like," she conceded.

  Lorraine smiled. "Curious," she started and Kirsten knew she was in for another one of her playful little talks. Her mother got off on drama, which was probably one of the reasons she was a romance writer. "So... you and Cole seem to have had yourselves a good time last night. But yet... here you are in your bath robe. You are clearly not coming back from his place. You would be wearing last night's little blue dress."

  "Congratulations, Sherlock," Kirsten smirked. "You've solved the mystery."

  "Why are you sleeping with Ethan?" her mother asked with an expression of concern. "I thought you hated h
im. And here you were yesterday, hitting it off with the most delicious man I've ever seen."

  Kirsten slumped herself on the kitchen chair, across from her mother. "I don't know," she confessed. "I know it's crazy, but he's all I can think about... he's under my skin."

  Lorraine nodded and pulled her chair closer to her daughter. She wrapped an arm around her. And Kirsten couldn't rein in her emotions anymore. She let the tears flow in the comfort of her mother's security. Lorraine went on, "It has always fascinated me," she told her daughter, "...love."

  Kirsten wiped her nose with the sleeve of her robe, listening.

  "I think that's why I write romance," Lorraine carried on. "It's crazy how stubborn the heart is. Here you have two guys. One is beautiful, kind and right for you, and the other is all wrong. Yet, he's the one you want, the one you crave."

  Kirsten nodded with a hint of a smile. That's exactly how it was. Her mother was a master, a real love guru. "It's so annoying."

  "You tell me," Lorraine smirked. "I've been there." She held her closer, patting her head. "Can I make you waffles with blueberries and fresh cream?" she ventured. "It's your favorite."

  That did sound pretty good. Her mother did not cook very much, but she was a master with that waffle maker... and J-Ello.

  She smiled at her mother. "Sure." Perhaps a little whipped cream could ease the pain. As far as Kirsten knew, whipped cream always made everything better.

  She was certainly doing quite the number on him. He had never been so shaken up by a woman before. It was time to take the bull by the horn and take control of his life. Where was the old Ethan Fox? The ladies' man had gone AWOL. And it was time to find him, and forget all about Kirsten Beals. He pondered his options as he made himself a strawberry-banana whey powder smoothie. He could consult his 'little black book', also known as his cell: phone contacts and social media contacts. All he had to do was spend a half-hour and send a few messages.