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

by Roya Carmen

  He grinned. "I'm glad you had fun," he said and then he pulled her to him. "But just so you know... I'm not quite done with you."

  And then he released her, and left her standing there as he sped off. Kirsten was motionless for a second or two, trying to work out what he meant. But she was also way too exhausted to even think straight.

  She spotted her reflection as she stood by the elevators; disheveled, mascara and eyeliner running. She looked like a rung-out raccoon, her hair in a magnificent almost-artful collection of bird nests. She looked like one of those models in those heroin chic fashion ads. One of her riding boots was all scuffed, and for the life of her, she couldn't remember how that had happened. And to top it off, she had a splitting headache. A tall glass of water, Ibuprofen and a long nap were in order. But the nap couldn't be too long, she reasoned, because her entire schedule would then be messed up.

  That's when she saw him exiting the elevator, looking as breathtaking as ever. He did a double-take when he spotted her. Damn, of all the times she could have accidentally run into him, why did it have to be now? As she scurried toward the elevator, he grabbed her wrist. "Wait."

  The touch of his hand send a current through her. Why? Why did it have to be like this? When Cole touched her, it wasn't like this. Why couldn't she feel this energy with him?

  He grinned at her. "You look like something the cat dragged in."

  She sneered at him. He had barely uttered three words, yet had managed to insult her already. She wasn't in the mood this morning. "Gee... thanks, Ethan."

  Her studied her, curious. "Where have you been?"

  "Are you keeping track of me?" she asked. "Why do you care?" She didn't quite know why she was being so hostile. She supposed it was a defense mechanism. She was so attracted to him, yet she desperately wanted to get away from him.

  He backed up, seemingly hurt. "I'm sorry... you just look..."

  She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry," she said. "I've just had a long night, that's all. Cole and I went to a party and then..." She didn't want to elaborate and tell him about the tattoo.

  "And then?" he asked, his expression anxious.

  She flashed him a smile. She knew exactly where his mind was going, and she decided to let it go there. "Did you know he rides a bike?" she asked. "A vintage Harley. It's almost as cool as your Jag."

  He forced a smile. She could see he hated this little tidbit of info. "Well, I'm glad to see he didn't kill you."

  "Yep, you can't get rid of me that easily," she quipped as she pressed the button to call the elevator again.

  "Yep, I guess not," he said, the words matter-of-fact. Then he turned from her and headed down the lobby.

  She watched his tall beautiful frame disappear onto the street, and she sighed a little.

  Ethan was so tense. It was a good thing he was heading for an early workout. He’d be able to work the stress away. He really wished he could just get her out of his system. How long had it been since he'd last been with her? A few weeks? He just couldn't seem to shake her. And with Natasha away in Hawaii, he didn't have anyone else to distract him.

  The idea of her sleeping with Cole was driving him insane, which was crazy because he should just be happy for her. This is exactly what he'd wanted for her when they first undertook their little project. But now...

  As he made his way to the gym, bag slung over his shoulder, he pictured her on the back of Cole's Harley, clinging to him, and then in Cole's bed, with her legs wrapped around his body.

  He wanted to punch something. Luckily, a few jabs on the punching bag would help him work out his anger.

  Kirsten crashed onto to her bed, and as she drifted into sleep, she thought only of Ethan.

  Two hours later, she woke to the sound of her clock radio. Her head splitting headache had not left her, despite having gulped down Ibuprofen and a glass of water. She also felt the soreness on her right hip. Oh crap, she thought. She had completely forgotten about the tattoo. Her mother would not be impressed. She kind of wanted to rip off the bandage and have a peek, but always the good girl, she behaved.

  Her mother was busy typing when Kirsten stepped into her office.

  "I got your text," Lorraine told her, not taking her eyes off her laptop screen. "Thanks. Did you have fun?"

  "I did," she told her mom. "Is this a good time to talk?"

  Lorraine lifted her gaze from the screen. "Yep, I'm just returning some emails."

  "I sort of... did something crazy."

  Lorraine's eyes grew wide. "What?"

  Kirsten winced a little. "I got... I got a tattoo... on my hip."

  Lorraine's mouth hung open. "You did not."

  Kirsten nodded, biting her bottom lip. "I did."

  "Show me."

  Kirsten smiled. "It's healing. I'll show you when it looks good."

  "That Cole is a rather naughty influence," Lorraine pointed out. "You be careful with him, promise?"

  Kirsten nodded in agreement.

  "I mean he seems nice enough..."

  "He is," Kirsten reassured her mother.

  He is nice, she thought again to herself.

  Then why isn't he enough?

  Ethan was happy Natasha had finally returned from Hawaii. She looked even darker than she had the last time he had seen her. Perhaps tonight would be the night, he thought, the night he would finally forget all about Kirsten.

  Natasha studied him as he slaved over a pot of pasta. "Your apartment is amazing," she offered, taking in the space with awe. "It has so much personality."

  "Thanks," he replied, busying himself with the salad spinner. He was pulling out all his cooking moves. He wanted this evening to be perfect. It was technically only their second date, but something had to happen, so he could move on and forget all about Miss Beals. "I collect vintage junk."

  She laughed. "It doesn't look like junk."

  He smiled. "Yes, the price tags definitely would indicate otherwise."

  "Expensive?"

  "Crazy," he told her. "The hoarder baby boomers are probably making a fortune on eBay."

  She shot him another wide smile. She was quite beautiful tonight in a tight blue dress, but for some reason, she still didn't have that pull on him, that mysterious appeal Kirsten did, that invisible 'something' that just made him want to reach out and touch her, run his hands through her hair... kiss her. He shook his head. He didn't understand it.

  Natasha helped him set the table. She went all out ; the best linens and dishes, stuff he barely ever used. She also lit up some scented candles and dimmed the lights. It was just a spaghetti and salad dinner with chocolate mousse for dessert, but he appreciated the effort. He smiled and wondered what she really had in mind. Perhaps they were on the same page.

  They chatted as they ate. She told him all about her trip to Hawaii; the beach, the amazing private chef they had, the visit to the Pearl Harbour memorial site, the mountains, and the incredible snorkeling. He tried to focus but found himself having a hard time doing so. She didn't ask how the past two weeks had gone for him. If she had, he would have told her 'excruciatingly slow'. But the dinner was pleasant enough and she didn't fail to shoot him a flirtatious smile or two. He knew she was up for more tonight. But strangely enough, he was in no hurry.

  Kirsten had been reading her mother's new book all afternoon. She had been completely caught up in it. It was one of her mother's steamier reads. Lorraine wrote under two names. Under her own name, she wrote contemporary family-centered romance. These books were the ones she was so well known for. But she also wrote erotic romance under the pen name Lexie Stone. Kirsten loved these books. They were so passionate and arousing.

  But as she feverishly flipped to chapter sixteen, her mind was full of only one person. Not Cole, but Ethan. It was always Ethan.

  She shook her head and tried to focus on the story, two kindred spirits who meet on a train, have amazing sex, and fall in love.

  He trails kisses down the inside of my arm.

  I r
each for his face, desperately wanting to kiss him.

  His lips are soft against mine, and his tongue is gentle. He is languid tonight, slow and soft. I want him so much, I'm not sure if I can keep up with his pace.

  His mouth travels to my neck and down to my collarbone, trailing kisses. I drown my face in his soft hair, in the wonderful scent of him. I could get buried in that smell.

  He slides his hand under the hem of my dress, the palm of his hand sliding against the soft fleshy part of my thigh. I instinctually spread my legs for him, wanting him to touch me.

  And he does.

  His fingers slip under my lace panties and glide against my lips, wet and slick. He pulls his face away from mine and watches me intently. I don't feel self-conscious under the scrutiny of his gaze. I like him watching me. He studies my expression as the desire builds in me, as I near my climax, my breathing labored, my whimpers louder.

  He slides in and out of me. "How do I make you feel?"

  "Amazing," I almost groan. He seems pleased. My pleasure brings him happiness. As he digs deeper into me, and his tempo speeds, he brings me closer. I know I am nearing climax. I grip the edge of the seat, not taking my eyes off his. Our gazes are locked.

  And then...

  He pulls away.

  His other hand makes its way under my dress. He leans down and grabs the band of my panties and pulls them down slowly. He kisses the inside of my thigh as he does so. He slides them over my knees, down my legs, and finally over my leopard-print heels.

  It was no use. The two characters had morphed into her and Ethan. Ethan was the one doing these things to her.

  Only he wasn't.

  And how she wished he was. He was just next door... he could be. She shook her head. The reality was that she was lying in her flannel pajamas on a Saturday night, reading a book. Yes... this was the real her. She had tried to be someone else, but had miserably failed. She still wanted to be that other person, that fun, free-spirited woman, that daring woman who did crazy things, who made memories she would definitely remember on her death-bed.

  She threw the book on the sofa and raced to her room. Thoughts of him were consuming her fully. She had hoped that over the days and weeks, he would fade. But he hadn’t. He was always a constant in her mind. She was obsessed. How many weeks had it been since they had made love? Two or three weeks? She cried as she realized that she would never get over him. If a gorgeous sexy man like Cole couldn't help her forget him, then no other man would ever be able to.

  She peeled off her flannel pajamas, sat naked on her bed and hugged her knees. She gazed at her reflection in the beautiful antique mirror on the wall of her whimsical room. Her hair was a mess… bed head. And she had no makeup on. She wondered if Ethan would like her like this, natural. She studied the dragonfly on her hip. It had completely healed and it was quite beautiful in its craftsmanship, a real little piece of art right on her flesh. She wondered if Ethan would like it. Obviously she had gotten it with him in mind. She ached to be touched by him, to make love to him again. Once or twice wasn't enough.

  Her lips curved into a smile. Tonight was hers. Her mother had gone for the weekend at their cottage for a romantic getaway with Max. And she wondered why she was sitting there on her bed, all alone, in full spinster mode.

  Enough was enough.

  She bounded to her dresser, a smile on her face, and selected her sexiest underwear, an expensive black laced set with beautiful embroidery and silk ribbon details. She had only worn it once or twice. It hadn't been a good investment so far. She shook her head, fluffing her hair, dabbed on some glossy lipstick, and studied her reflection again. She felt incredibly sexy. And also very aroused.

  She grabbed her Burberry trench coat (a must for Seattle), and threw it on. She dashed out of the apartment barefoot. She knew she was acting crazy, but that was exactly the idea.

  As she knocked on his door, she prayed he would answer. Her mind was full of all the delicious and naughty things they would do once he opened the door and took her in his arms.

  Ethan and Natasha were enjoying the chocolate mousse he had whipped up when he heard a knock at the door. He was surprised. He wasn't expecting anyone. "Excuse me for a second," he told her as he set down his fork. "I'll just be a sec."

  When he answered the door, he couldn't believe his eyes. Here was the woman who had consumed his thoughts for the past weeks, standing there, barefoot, in a trench and wearing a curious expression, naughty, terrified, and fun all wrapped into one. God... she was as beautiful as he'd remembered.

  "Kirsten..." was all he could manage.

  12

  …you’ve moved on

  "Hi," she said, shy.

  After a beat or two of stunned silence, he suddenly remembered Natasha sitting in his dining room. He had no clue what was up with Kirsten, but his intuition told him she had something naughty in mind, and every cell in his body wanted to take her in his arms and rip that trench coat off of her.

  She worried her bottom lip as she had a tendency to do when she was nervous or ill-at-ease. "I'm sorry to just pop by like this.”

  "It's uh..." he stammered. "It's okay... it's nice to see you." God... what was he going to do? He couldn't very well tell her he was busy with another woman and turn her away. How he wished Natasha would suddenly disappear into thin air.

  Kirsten reached for the belt of her trench with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I wanted to show you something," she started. "I wanted to ask for your opinion," she went on as she started to peel off her trench seductively.

  He wanted to stop her but he was frozen. He lost all breath. Why was she so damn beautiful? She looked so vulnerable standing there in front of him wearing nothing but the sexiest underwear he'd ever seen. He wanted to rip it to shreds. And that tattoo... It had to be what she was referring to. He loved it. It was sexy as hell. He wanted to lick it. But all he did was stand there, motionless, in a state of shock.

  "Ethan?" Natasha called out as she made her way to the entrance. Ethan turned back, knowing this was the moment he had dreaded. Her jaw dropped to the floor when she spotted Kirsten. Ethan turned back to explain himself to Kirsten, and his heart sank when he saw her expression.

  She was shattered. A disturbing mix of emotions played across her beautiful features; hurt, shame, shock. Her eyes welled up as she reached for her trench coat and quickly slipped it back on. "Uh..." she faltered. "I'm... I'm so sorry... I didn't know."

  Before Ethan could find his voice, she had dashed out of his apartment. He stood there, still frozen, wanting to run after her. But he couldn't. Natasha was still standing there, shooting daggers at him. "What the hell?" she asked, clearly not impressed.

  "I'm sorry, Natasha," he tried to explain. "That's just..." He really didn't know how to explain Kirsten without lying. What was he supposed to say? That she was just a fling he had had, of no consequence. Because he knew that wasn't the truth. She was so much more than that.

  Natasha reached for her jacket and purse. "I'm leaving," she told him. "The last thing I need is a player who makes me crappy spaghetti and has little tattooed whores dropping by at all hours."

  He almost wanted to smile. The thought of Kirsten as a little tattooed whore made him happy. She was anything but. But she had definitely come a long way. Just the memory of her in that black lace underwear... and that tattoo. He was aroused and he couldn't wait for Natasha to leave. He didn't say anything, didn't try to convince her to stay. He didn't care. All he could think about was Kirsten.

  He rapped on Kirsten's door but there was no answer. Then he resorted to screaming. He needed to see her, to touch her, to have her. "Kirsten, please..." he called out as he knocked louder. "I can explain everything."

  Finally, the door opened slowly. She was still wearing the trench and her eyes were all puffy and red. He realized he had done this to her. He pushed his way in and grabbed her tightly in his arms, holding her and taking in the wonderful scent of her. He had missed her so much.

>   She tried to pull away but he wouldn't let go. "I g-guess..." she struggled to say, her voice cracking, "...you've moved on."

  "No, I haven't, Kirsten," he tried to make her understand. "I haven't. All I can think about is you. Natasha and I... we haven't..."

  She tore herself away from his grasp. "Then why was she at your place? Wearing that dress?”

  "I thought she could help me forget," he admitted. "But I was wrong."

  "But you were about to sleep with her, right?"

  He didn't say a word, not admitting that he would have so quickly jumped to sex with another woman to try to forget her. "And what about you and Cole... I'm sure—"

  "Cole and I aren't..." she told him. "All I can think about is you."

  He couldn't wait any longer. He had to have her. He pulled her to him by the belt of her trench. And as he struggled to undo the tie, he spotted the pure desire in her eyes. She wanted this as much as he did. He peeled off her jacket and dropped to his knees. He pulled the band of her laced panties with the touch of a finger, and bit at her flesh, at the beautiful dragonfly on her skin. "God... this tattoo is so fucking sexy, Kirsten," he muttered, his breathing ragged. "What were you trying to do to me, dragonfly?"

  She flashed him a sly smile. "I just wanted your opinion."

  "I love it," he told her as he peeled off her panties. And suddenly, he remembered where they were. "Are we alone?"

  She threw her head back and bit her lip, a little move she always did when she was really aroused. "Yes... my mom is away for the weekend." Her voice was all ragged, broken up. The sound of it made him even harder.

  "Lovely," he whispered, his mouth pressed against the soft flesh of her thigh. He didn't know where he wanted to start. He wanted to taste every inch of her, ravish her, feast on her. He had been imagining this exact moment for weeks. And he couldn't hold off anymore.