Fixer-Upper

by Linda Seed

  She ran her hands along his skin, and he trembled at her touch.

  “Martina, I don’t—” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to do this because of what I said. Because you feel sorry for me. I don’t need—”

  “Shh.” She silenced him with a kiss.

  He traced his fingers over that spot that fascinated him—the gentle hollow of her throat. Then he ran his hands gently from her neck to her shoulders, slipping the fabric of her dress off of her skin as he went.

  He kissed the spot between her neck and her shoulder, running his tongue along the smooth flesh, and she shuddered.

  Chris wanted to be with her now, but he didn’t need to. He could wait. He was willing, in fact, to wait as long as it took, as long as either of them needed. More and more, he was sensing that any wait, no matter how long, no matter how difficult, would be worth it.

  But here she was, willingly giving herself to him. How could he say no? She was perfection. She was all he’d imagined but had never had.

  “Are you sure?” he asked her.

  “Just kiss me,” she said.

  Martina hadn’t been with a man in a long time. That was how she’d initially gotten caught up in this, in the idea of Chris. Why shouldn’t she have this? Why shouldn’t she enjoy some mutually pleasurable lovemaking?

  But once she’d touched his skin, once his hands were on her, it became something else. It wasn’t just the two of them entertaining each other as consenting adults. Now it was so much more, because she knew she couldn’t have shared this moment with just anyone. It could only have been with him.

  She stepped out of her dress, which had fallen into a pool of fabric at her feet. Slowly, her eyes on his, she reached down and took off first one shoe and then the other, letting each of them fall to the wood floor with a thump.

  She straightened and stepped into his arms. With nothing between them now but a few stray articles of clothing, she felt her body sigh at the meeting of skin on skin. She wanted to melt into him, to disappear into him.

  She tipped her head back and he tasted her jaw, letting his mouth trail slowly down.

  He unclasped her bra and slid it off her shoulders, then he closed his mouth over the tip of her breast. She let out a ragged gasp at the heat of his tongue on her erect nipple.

  She put her hands in his hair and closed her eyes, her head thrown back. Sensations shot through her body—heat, pleasure, electricity.

  She wanted more of him, all of him. She unfastened his belt, unsnapping and unzipping his pants and letting them fall. She lay her hand on his hardness through his briefs, and he drew in a sharp breath.

  “Lie down,” he told her, his voice ragged.

  She lay on the bed and waited for him. He stripped the rest of the way and she took in the sight of him, hard and ready for her.

  He lay on the bed beside her, and she turned on her side to face him. She wrapped her hand around his length and stroked him, and he moaned in pleasure as she kissed him, caressing his mouth with her tongue.

  Her body hummed with sensations. She wanted him touching her, inside her. She lay one leg on his thigh and slid it upward to give him access to her hot, wet core.

  He slid his hand inside the waistband of her panties and then lower, finding the slick, soft place that throbbed with need for him. He pushed his fingers inside her, and she quivered with pleasure.

  He rolled onto his back, and Martina wiggled out of her panties and straddled him as his hard length pressed against her. She aligned their bodies and lowered herself onto him, taking him in, feeling him fill her.

  Chris wanted her so much he wasn’t sure how long he was going to last. He didn’t want to think of apps or code or his taxes, though. He only wanted to think of Martina—her smell, her skin, the feel of her body wrapped around his. He gripped her hips and moved her on top of him, feeling the inside of her body caressing him.

  Right now, with her hair wild and her face the picture of bliss, she’d never been more beautiful. He wasn’t sure anyone ever had. He ran his hands up her body and she trembled beneath his fingers.

  He wasn’t going to hold out long like this, not with her looking into his eyes with such tenderness. So he rolled her onto her back and pulled out of her, with regret, for a moment that felt like forever. He maneuvered her onto her belly and she raised her hips to him. He knelt behind her and found her center, sliding into her with a groan of bliss.

  Chris bent over her and pressed his face to her back, tasting her, feeling her heartbeat, as he picked up his rhythm. He reached around and pressed his fingers to the nub where their bodies met, caressing her in time with their movements.

  “Oh.” She let out a sound that was part word, part animal moan. “Oh. Oh oh oh. Oh, God …” Then her body spasmed and shuddered beneath him.

  Her pleasure sent him over the edge, and his own release blasted through him in one blinding, devastating surge.

  Afterward, they both collapsed onto the bed in a warm, sated jumble. He pulled her into his arms and breathed her in; the feel of her arms around him, the smell of her hair.

  He wanted to say something—to thank her, perhaps. But how could he ever adequately thank her for such a thing? Instead, he pulled her closer and kissed her hair.

  Chris knew he was in trouble. He knew whatever came after this, he was at her mercy. But even if she chose to wreck him, even if she chose to devastate him and burn his life to black, smoking cinders, he’d have been hard pressed to do anything differently.

  So this was how it felt to surrender.

  There was still the question of whether Chris should spend the night. If Martina had lived alone, there would have been no issue—of course he would. Of course he’d love nothing better than to wrap her in his arms and drift off to sleep in a bliss of postcoital togetherness.

  But she didn’t live alone, which made things trickier.

  “Do you want me to go?” he asked.

  “No.” She gave him a slow, languorous grin that undid him. “I want you to stay. But …”

  “But?”

  “But then you’re going to have to do the walk of shame in the morning. And you’ll have to deal with my sisters.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “One man’s walk of shame is another man’s walk of glory. And I’d love to get to know your sisters.”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” she said.

  22

  He woke in the morning feeling better than he had in a long time. Martina was curled up against him, her glorious hair spread over the pillow, her face impossibly lovely in sleep.

  Seeing her and feeling her this close to him gave him a hard-on, and his first instinct was to wake her up to recreate the magic of the night before.

  But she looked so peaceful he couldn’t bear to disturb her. Plus, he needed coffee, and he could already smell it—somebody had gotten up early and made some.

  He could admit facing the sisters made him a little nervous. But he’d have to do it sooner or later. And it was worth it for a good shot of caffeine.

  Chris slid out of the bed, trying not to wake Martina, and grabbed his clothes off the floor. He dressed and made himself presentable in the little en suite bathroom, then braced himself and went out to face Sofia and Benny.

  Neither Sofia nor Benny was out there, though. Instead, he found a studious-looking blond guy huddled over a pile of books and a laptop at the kitchen table.

  “Hello.” The guy looked up from what he was doing when Chris came in. “You must be Chris.” He stood and offered his hand. “I’m Patrick Connelly. Sofia’s fiancé.”

  “Right.” Chris shook the hand that had been offered and considered himself lucky he’d avoided the sister gauntlet—at least, for now. “May I?” He gestured toward the coffee pot on the kitchen counter.

  “Help yourself. Mugs are in the cupboard over the sink.”

  Chris got a mug out of the cupboard, poured himself a cup of coffee, and doctored it a bit with some milk and the sugar
he found in a bowl on the counter. He was feeling pleased with himself for having avoided the scrutiny of the various Russos in residence when he noticed Patrick was eyeing him.

  “So … getting married, huh?” Chris asked companionably.

  “Yes. It’s coming up soon.”

  “You nervous?” Chris leaned his butt against the counter and sipped from his mug.

  “No. Actually, I can’t wait.”

  “That’s great, man. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  They’d broken the ice somewhat, but Chris could still feel a certain tension in the air, a sense that Patrick wanted to say something he didn’t quite have the nerve to say.

  “Okay, what?” Chris kept his voice neutral and friendly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I get the feeling you want to say something. So, go ahead.” Chris gestured with his free arm, a bring it on wave of the hand.

  “Well … all right.” Patrick shifted in his chair to face Chris more fully. “It’s just … I’m going to be their family pretty soon. I’m going to be Martina’s brother-in-law.”

  “Right. And …”

  “And I care about her, that’s all.”

  “So do I.”

  Patrick seemed to consider that, and he nodded. “Good. That’s good. I just—”

  “I don’t intend to hurt her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “It is.” Patrick fidgeted, picking up a pencil from the table and putting it down again. “I know it’s none of my business.”

  “You’re right. It’s none of your business,” Chris said. “But it’s kind of nice anyway, knowing people are looking out for her.”

  Patrick nodded, then turned his focus back to his laptop.

  All in all, Chris figured the walk of shame could have gone worse.

  It wasn’t until later in the day, when Chris had gone home and the women had all returned from their various errands and activities, that Martina had to face interrogation from her sisters.

  “Patrick says Chris spent the night.” Sofia grinned suggestively. Martina was curled up on the sofa with a book in a patch of late morning sunlight, and Sofia had just come in from a run.

  “He told you that, did he?” Martina asked mildly. Of course Patrick would have told Sofia. She’d have expected no less.

  “He did. He also said Chris looked smug as hell, so I guess your night went well.” Sofia plopped down next to Martina on the sofa. Her spandex running clothes were damp with sweat.

  Martina nudged Sofia with her foot. “You’re sweaty. Get off the couch until you’ve showered.”

  “You’re changing the subject,” Sofia said.

  “I noticed that.”

  “All right. I’ll go. But when I come back, you have to spill.”

  Benny came in while Sofia was in the shower. She dropped her bag onto the floor near the front door and wasted no time getting to the point. “So, did you get laid last night or not?”

  Martina looked up from her book and smiled impassively.

  “I can’t tell if that’s a yes or a go to hell,” Benny said, considering the meaning of the smile.

  “Can we wait? Sofia’s in the shower, and I don’t want to have to tell it twice.”

  “That’s fair.” Benny went to the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of Coke, and screwed off the top. “Is it a good story, though? Because I’ve been looking at plankton under a microscope all morning, and I could really use a good story.”

  “Wait for Sofia,” Martina said.

  They didn’t have to wait long. A couple of minutes later, Sofia came rushing out of her room dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, her hair still wet from the shower.

  “Okay! We’re all here. What happened? Was he good? Was it fun? Did he rock your world?”

  “We’re not all here. Bianca’s not here,” Martina said.

  “You’re stalling,” Benny said. “There’s nothing in the rule book that says nonresident Russos have to be present before dissection of someone’s sexual experiences.”

  “There’s a rule book?” Sofia asked. “When did that happen?”

  Martina was pretending to be reticent because gloating about incredible sex seemed somewhat indecorous. But of course she was going to tell them everything. They were her sisters. Why wouldn’t she?

  “All right.” She put her book down, got up from the sofa, and went into the kitchen where her sisters were standing. She leaned against the countertop and let her giddy joy show. “It was amazing. He was amazing. I don’t know if it’s because I hadn’t had sex in a long time or if it’s him … or me … but, God.”

  “Oh, boy.” Benny rubbed her hands together in glee. “And he stayed the night?”

  “He did,” Sofia confirmed. “Patrick saw him early this morning after I left. They had coffee.”

  “Staying the night is big,” Benny said. “I mean, if you’re just fooling around, just having fun, you don’t stay over. You sneak out in the dead of night with your underwear on backward.” She looked at her sisters. “Or, maybe that’s just me.”

  “It’s big,” Sofia agreed.

  “It’s not necessarily significant,” Martina said. “It’s too early to say what is and is not significant.”

  But privately, she knew they were right. He’d stayed over, and she’d wanted him to. That meant something. Her head knew it was far too early to come to any conclusions about where she and Chris might be headed, but her heart and her body knew what they knew.

  “I really like him.” Saying it out loud felt scary. She felt vulnerable in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

  “Oh, Martina. That’s great. You deserve to be happy.” Sofia reached out and rubbed Martina’s arm.

  “You do,” Benny agreed, perhaps a bit grudgingly. “Though, if one of us was going to have great sex, I’d have hoped it would be me.”

  “It will be,” Martina said. “You just need to get out there.”

  “I’m out there every day.” Benny’s shoulders slumped. “I’m tired of being out there.”

  So was Martina. The idea that she wouldn’t have to be out there anymore and could perhaps be tucked safely inside with someone was alluring.

  Being out there kind of sucked in comparison.

  23

  Over the next couple of weeks, Martina and Chris saw a lot of each other. She spent the night at Cooper House or he spent the night at the Russo place. Benny and Sofia were getting used to seeing him in their kitchen in the morning and had stopped grilling Martina about the relationship.

  The work on Chris’s kitchen had moved into the next phase, with demolition scheduled for the following week.

  Martina felt a little bit weird about working for Chris, given their budding relationship, but he’d insisted the remodel go forward, and Martina was trying not to dwell on all the ways that could go wrong.

  And maybe it wouldn’t go wrong. Maybe things would go right. That was always possible, wasn’t it?

  By the time Chris scheduled a trip to the Bay Area to check on his condo there, meet with his accountant, and deal with various pieces of business, Martina was surprised to realize how entwined in her life he’d become.

  “Come with me,” he’d said as they were lying in bed at Cooper House one morning, delaying getting up to start their day. They’d just had satisfying, languorous sex, and she was tucked up against his body, her arms around him.

  “I can’t. I have work. I’ve got projects underway, and I can’t leave.”

  “You’re your own boss,” he reminded her. “Who’s going to tell you that you can’t take a few days?”

  “Me. I’m the one who’s telling me that.” She pushed back from him a little to look at him more fully. “I’m working like hell to build my business, and I can’t do that if I blow off my clients. I’ve got schedules to stick to and people who are relying on me. Noah’s crew—”

  “Okay.” He kissed her. “I get it. That’s fine. I’ll
be back in a few days.”

  She settled in against him, her head against his chest so she could hear his heartbeat.

  “Only …”

  “Only what?” She raised up to look at him again.

  “I’m just saying, it’s not like you have to worry about your income.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why don’t I have to worry about my income?”

  “Cooper House is a big job, that’s all. A big, expensive job. So if you have to put off your other clients …”

  Martina didn’t like where this was going, and a hard knot of dread settled in her stomach. She got up from the bed and pulled a throw blanket around her to cover her body.

  “What are you saying? That you’re giving me work at Cooper House so I can … what? So I can be free to take trips with you?”

  He rose onto his elbow, his head propped on one hand. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But it sounded like that’s what you meant.”

  “Well, I didn’t. I just meant your business is doing well right now, and maybe you could take a few days and relax a little bit. That’s all.” He patted the space on the bed where she’d been. “Lie back down. Please?”

  The whole thing—the link between his wealth and the health of her business—unsettled her. It had always been her suspicion that Alexis had been with Chris for his money, and who knew how many other women that had been true for? She didn’t want to be one of them, and she didn’t want him to think, even for a moment, that she was.

  “I don’t want your business because of our relationship.” She stubbornly stood her ground instead of letting herself be lured back into bed before this was settled.

  “I know. And that’s not why you have it. You got the job before we started seeing each other.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “The kitchen looks like it belongs in a Holiday Inn. It needs you.”

  That was true. It did, on both counts.