by Sasha Gold
“When we get back, Victoria, I’m taking you out for a steak.”
“I thought we were having room service and you were going to keep me locked away?”
His smile widened. “That too.”
Taking his hand, she led him down the hallway to the bedroom. Charlie lay on the smaller bed, curled up, his nose under his tail.
“I see how it is,” Clay muttered, easing himself into the bigger bed. “The Commanding Officer leaves and everybody breaks rank.”
“Good thing you’re back.” She curled up behind him. “We missed you something awful. I missed you something awful.”
Clay didn’t reply. He wrapped her in his arms and was instantly fast asleep. Sometime in the night, she heard him speaking. He talked to someone on the phone and after a moment, she realized it was Sydney. She spoke excitedly and Clay chuckled.
“You don’t say,” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep. “Right, some kids will do anything to get out of their chores.”
Through the phone she heard Sydney laugh, and a moment later, Clay chuckled and said goodbye to her.
“Ross is fine. Mom and Dad are there. His appendix didn’t rupture.”
“What made you laugh?”
“Ross said after they discharge him, he wants to come back to the cabin.”
Victoria smiled. The words gave her a bittersweet feeling. The cabin felt different without the children. They were safe now. Most importantly, Ross was safe. “It was special, wasn’t it?”
He tightened his hold on her. “It was.”
She stroked his arm. “Everything’s going to change now.”
“Not everything.”
“No?”
He pulled her closer, nuzzling her neck, his beard scratching her skin, giving her shivers. “You and I aren’t done yet,” he said. “We’re just beginning.”
Epilogue
Three years later
Victoria
Clay stepped inside the front door of their home. He’d take Sydney into Napa to practice for her driving test she hoped to take the following week. He stood in the doorway, a stricken expression on his face.
Victoria met him with a kiss and a smile. “You look traumatized.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face. “A little.”
“Told you.” Ross sat in the middle of their living room, surrounded by a toy train track. Two-year-old Travis crouched on the other side of the track, reassembling a bridge that had fallen over.
“Driving with Sydney is pretty scary,” Clay said.
Sydney pushed past him, a grin on her face. “We didn’t even drive, because my driving instructor, Captain Obvious, wouldn’t let me. All we did was practice parallel parking, which, I might add, I did perfectly.”
“On the twenty-seventh try,” Clay muttered.
“Mom and Dad said she can have a car if she passes her driving test, so she can pick me up from football practice.” Ross said. “I’m not getting in a car with my sister.”
Clay nodded. “If you do, keep your helmet on.”
Sydney laughed loudly, set her purse on the counter and crossed to the living room. “Very funny.”
Travis looked up from his train track and grinned at Sydney. He got to his feet and went to the girl, who pulled him onto her lap. She might not be the best driver, just yet, but she had a way with children. Travis adored her. He adored Ross too.
“Travis thinks Auntie Syd is a good driver, doesn’t he?” she cooed.
The boy stuck his thumb in his mouth and nodded.
Sydney chuckled and kissed the top of his head.
“He’d agree to anything you told him too,” Ross said.
Sydney and Ross came to visit Napa several times a year, staying for a week at a time. A few times they’d come with their mother and father, who had reunited. When their children went missing, and were feared dead, the estranged couple had made peace. According to Ross, they never squabbled anymore. The whole family was close now, happily living in Sitka Lake. Even he and Sydney rarely bickered.
The group gathered at the dining table and Victoria served lunch. The kids’ spring break was winding down and that night they were having dinner with Victoria’s mother at the hotel. Tomorrow, Clay would take them to the airport. Victoria felt a pang of sadness to see them leave. The four of them had an unusual bond. Clay and Victoria, not quite parent-figures to them, but so much more than just friends of the family.
Charlie wandered in and lay a polite distance from the table, in case someone wanted to offer him a bite to eat. In the last few weeks, Travis had decided he didn’t need to sit in a booster chair. He got around this by giving his father his best, pleading look before meals. Clay relented on this point, allowing the boy to have his way. He lifted him to his knee and let him sit with him. While Travis didn’t have a lot of words, mostly just sound effects, he got just what he wanted from Daddy with a well-timed, woeful look.
“I had some news from the Phillips’ lawyers today,” Clay said.
Everyone except Travis turned their attention to Clay. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips owned the cabin, or had owned the cabin, before they’d passed away. The elderly couple had died a month before the four of them crash-landed in the cabin’s front yard. They’d left no children, only a niece who had no interest in a log cabin, deep in the wilds of Alaska.
After they returned to civilization, their story became the subject of new casts and magazine articles. Film crews descended upon the remote cabin. As minors, the children were shielded from the public’s curiosity, but Clay and Victoria were hounded by the press. Especially when it was discovered they’d married a month after.
The interest had faded long ago. In the meantime, Clay and Victoria had done their best to find the cabin’s owner so they could say thank you and to give compensation for all the food and supplies they’d used. When they finally learned who owned the cabin, Robert and Doris Phillips, they discovered the owners were recently deceased, so they began a new search to learn who would inherit the Phillips’ property.
“The niece has agreed to my offer,” Clay said.
Sydney. “You’re buying it?”
“Yes.” Clay wrapped his hand around Victoria’s.
“I can hardly believe it.” Victoria said. “We offered a year ago, and the owner said she felt guilty for selling her uncle and aunt’s place. I guess she changed her mind.”
Everyone spoke at once, except Ross. He sat quietly, a stunned expression on his face. Each of them had special memories about the cabin, but out all of them, Ross missed the cabin the most. He hadn’t ever said those words exactly, but he hadn’t needed to. For a moment, she thought he might tear up and wouldn’t Sydney give him grief then.
“If your parents agree, we’ll take you in the summer.” Victoria said.
“That sounds awesome,” Sydney said. “No one’s been there since we left?”
“Just film crews.”
Sydney pursed her lips. “Aw… poor little cabin. I don’t think houses like to be empty. It makes them sad.”
“Really?” Clay asked dryly. “Like actually depressed?”
“I think the cabin misses us,” Sydney said, with certainty.
Clay shrugged. “Maybe so. You can ask when we go back.”
“How soon can we go?” Ross asked, still looking thunderstruck.
“Ask your parents,” Victoria said.
“They’ll say yes,” Ross said. “They’d let us go to Siberia with you.”
“We were pretty close,” Sydney said.
“When summer rolls around, we’ll have a bunch of people who want to visit,” Clay said. “My sisters and step father want to see the place. Paul’s going to want to fish as much as he can.”
Victoria smiled. After they left the cabin, Clay had made peace with Paul. Or perhaps it was the other way around. She wasn’t sure. As Paul tried to regain his health, the two men fished together. Fishing trips helped them forge a relationship they’d never had.
“
We’ll have a big old party up there,” Sydney said.
She wriggled in her chair, and Travis chuckled at her antics.
They finished lunch and later Clay took Sydney, Ross and Travis to “Nana’s” hotel. Nana was the name Victoria’s mother preferred. “Better than Grandma,” she liked to say.
When Clay returned, he came with the dinners her mother had the chef prepare for their date-night-at-home dinner. Victoria lay in her tub amidst the bubbles and listened as he put the plates away. Soon he strolled down the hallway. When he stepped into the doorway, he gripped the frame above his head and gazed at her for a long moment. He was every inch the sexy beast, standing in the doorway and holding her in his heated gaze.
“You’re pregnant,” he said.
His deep baritone echoed across the marble surfaces. A small gasp escaped her lips. He’d called her first pregnancy with a startling accuracy. But it couldn’t be true. Could it? His expression was smug and certain.
She flicked bubbles at him and frowned. “Shut. Up.”
His lips thinned, and he crooked his finger. “Come over here. Say that to my face.”
Her lifted her brows and she shrugged a shoulder. “All right.”
She got to her feet, and stepped out of the tub. Bathwater sluiced from naked body as she crossed the bathroom. His eyes grew hooded as she drew near. His lips curved into a smile and his body tensed.
She grabbed his shirt. “Shut-“
He stopped her with a hard kiss, and lifted her in his arms, walking her back to their master suite, keeping his mouth on hers. Carrying her to the bed, he held her in an iron grip until he reached the edge of the mattress. He laid her back, keeping her locked in an indecent kiss. His tongue stroked her. His hands skimmed down the length of her wet body. And after he lowered over her, his knee coaxed her thighs apart.
She was already wet, swollen and so needy. Her reaction came over her the moment he’d stood in the doorway and spoke. There was something about the man’s voice.
He broke the kiss and nibbled his way down her neck while she squirmed beneath him. She soaked the French linens beneath her, the bathwater seeping into the fabric while her husband did filthy things to her. When his mouth covered her breast, she drew a sharp breath.
Please.
He sucked her nipple, teased her with his tongue and lingered while she arched beneath him. The sweet torment of his mouth made her beg for more. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him to her breast.
When she couldn’t take another moment, he moved from her breast, trailed kisses down her stomach and pushed her thighs apart. He covered her with his mouth and flicked his tongue. He gave her a slow, steady rhythm and just when she thought she might fall apart, deliberately held back, making her beg.
“I shouldn’t have said… you shut up,” she murmured. Because that made total sense.
He gripped her thighs and pushed them back so she lay beneath him, open, vulnerable to him. He continued his torment, teasing her until she writhed and pleaded. When she begged him for release he eased his hand down and stroked her as he sucked her clit. She screamed his name as she climaxed.
Without waiting a moment more, he stripped down, prowled over her and settled between her thighs. “God, I love you,” he said softly. “From the first moment.”
“I love you, too.” She smiled. “From the second moment.”
He pushed inside her, delving deeper. She wrapped around him, clinging to his hips with her thighs. Holding firm, he began a slow and steady cadence.
“Mine,” he said as he took her.
“Yours,” she replied. “Always,”
He teased her with his slow pace, deliberately toying with her. Desperate for more, she pleaded for him to give her what she needed. Sometimes he made love to her gently and tenderly. Other times he was fierce and so overcome with passion, he’d take her hard. And then there was a playful love-making. He’d give her just enough to make her wild, but not enough to let her come until he was ready.
She had ways of making him give her what she wanted. When she told him how much she needed him, he’d relent and take her over the edge.
“I need you,” she whispered.
“To do what?”
“Fuck me, Clay.”
He growled his approval. He drove her deep till she dug her fingers into his skin and came hard. He followed, thrusting hard as he gripped her hips.
She lay in his arms for a long while, both of them dozing off.
When they woke, he rolled over to face her. “I put a test in the top drawer. Go take it. I want to know.”
She sighed, reluctant to leave their bed. Inside the bathroom, she found the test, took it and returned to the bedroom. “What if I told you there was only one little blue line?”
“I’d call bullshit.”
“Really?”
“Really. The titty fairy has already come to visit.”
She shook her head and showed him the two lines on the test. “What a lovely thing to say, to your pregnant wife.”
He smiled, wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged her down to the bed. “Come back to me. Your mom has the kids for at least another three hours.” He nuzzled her neck, giving her a small nip. “You and I aren’t done yet.”
THE END
*** BONUS CHAPTER ***
Isolated from the modern world, doing whatever it takes to survive in the Alaskan wilderness, Victoria and Clay find time to have some fun! Subscribe to Sasha’s email list to read one more, hot chapter of Victoria and Clay’s simmering new love for each other.
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Thank you for reading my story. If you enjoyed this story please consider leaving me a review on Amazon.com and other book review sites. And sign up for my mailing list at www.sashagoldbooks.com where I will notify you of future releases, exclusive offers and bonus material. – Sasha
Now, as promised, please enjoy Sweet Fix in its entirety.
From the cover
Trig Kendal
Almost from the first moment, I needed her. Craved her. My sweet and sassy and brilliant Maggie. But she’s ten years younger than me. Too young. Barely nineteen.
I told myself I couldn’t have her. I told myself all I wanted was for her to be safe. In truth, she was my addiction. She was my sweet fix until she became my wife. It’s just an arrangement. A marriage of convenience. Something to keep her by my side and safe until the threat passes.
Maggie Callaghan
I’ve been on my own since my mother died. Sure, I’ve been in foster care, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t utterly alone. So why does Trig assume he needs to watch over me? Because he’s older? Wiser? He seems to think he needs to scare me straight. And he does. But the man who frightens me is also the man who haunts my wicked dreams.
When he steps in with an offer of help, and a marriage in name only, I accept.
With a whispered vow, I’m out of the pot and into the fire.
Sweet Fix
Sasha Gold
Sweet Fix - Chapter One
Maggie
Sitting at the dinner table, surrounded by a brand new foster family, I decide this place sucks slightly less than the last three. Especially the food. It’s actually edible. The parents, Jane and Wes Kendal, tell me to call them by their first names. They told me that my first day here. Nice, huh? They’re super-duper friendly. I wanted to ask them what the fuck they thought I’d call them. Mom and Dad?
Doesn’t matter. In three days, I’m out of here. I haven’t decided where I’m going. All I know is I’m leaving Saturday.
When Social Services asked if I wanted to remain in the foster system for an extra year so I could graduate from high school, they didn’t tell me I’d be living with a bunch of little kids. They implied, very heavily, that I’d be in with kids just like me. Eighteen-year-olds who didn’t have enough credit to graduate. So I can’t really say they lied to me, but it feels like a lie, and it sucks living in a fast-foo
d kiddie play area.
Jane and Wes aren’t that bad, though. They’re the first set of foster parents who act like they truly want me. Especially Jane. The problem is, they want everybody. Their house is full. Three bedrooms for five foster kids. I was the only girl so I got my own bedroom. The other four, all boys age eight and younger, are crammed in two small rooms, each with bunk beds.
I’ve been here two weeks and I know I can’t stay. Living with all these people is wearing me out. Even with my own room, I have zero privacy. The boys knock on my door all the time, wanting to know if I can build something with their Legos, or play Super Mario or, kill-me-now, Minecraft. Asking me why I don’t talk. Why everything I wear is black.
They found out I was born in Ireland. It was like I was born in outer space or something. Jane showed them Ireland on the map and told them about Leprechauns and the Blarney Stone and a bunch of other nonsense. Then they really started to pester me. I told them I knew nothing of Ireland, that I’d moved to the United States when I was little.
Yesterday, I asked Jane how she could stand living with them. She just laughed and told me I’d get used to the noise. Not fucking likely. Good thing I’ve managed to jack a few things to help me on the road.
First, I took one of the silver ladles from a punch bowl that sat on their dusty-covered buffet. Jane wasn’t one for housework so I was pretty sure she wouldn’t even notice one of the tarnished ladles was missing. Next, I found a pocket watch in a junk drawer. It didn’t work but I didn’t care. It’s worth something. This evening, Wes’s brother, Trig, came for dinner and left his wallet on the counter. I lightened it by a few twenties and set it right back where I found it.
Trig has given me funny looks during dinner, and I half-expect him to call me out, but he doesn’t say a word. Like everyone else, he keeps trying to get me to talk.
“So, Maggie, you excited about starting school next week?” he asks.
