A Fix Fling (The Fix Book 5)

by Carey Heywood

  My apartment is clean; I slept like a log, and Malcolm’s coming here today. The boutique is a bit of a drive from my place, but considering its proximity to the beach, I can’t afford anything near it on my salary.

  When I let myself in, Yolanda’s behind the cash register with her laptop waiting for me. Since we don’t open for another fifteen minutes, I lock the door behind me before I head over to her.

  “I called Gene and he wanted me to tell you he’s your new best friend and will take any shift you want to give him.”

  Shoving my keys into my purse, I round the counter and peer over her shoulder at the schedule. “That’s awesome news.”

  She nods and points to the screen. “He can be here as early as eleven today if you need to pick up your man from the airport, and he can take two of your shifts completely so you’ll only have to work two days this week.”

  Setting my purse down, I bear hug her. “Best boss ever.”

  “I better get to meet this dude,” she replies.

  “Deal,” I promise before letting her go.

  We walk to the back room together so she can put her laptop in her office and I can stow away my purse. Part of the reason yesterday was so hectic is because we got new inventory in and had to get it all out onto the floor.

  As long as Yolanda and I have someone else working with us, we can swing doing it during the day. It saves the shop a lot of money doing it this way. It’s hard work, but the results look so good it almost distracts me from the fact that Malcolm will be here soon. He’s likely already on his way to the airport in New Hampshire right now.

  I practically dance my way to the front door to unlock it.

  Yolanda catches me and laughs while I give her a bow.

  She moves behind the counter. “Do you have anything planned for while he’s here?”

  I waggle my eyebrows at her and she snorts and clarifies, “Other than hanky panky.”

  “Since he’s the one making the trip, I’m going to leave it up to him. Hopefully, he’ll be up for going to the beach. He has a body made for wearing as little as possible.”

  She shakes her head at me. “You better bring him by because I need to see this guy.”

  The door dings as a group of fashionable women walk in.

  I smile and greet them, “Welcome to Chic.”

  As they start looking around, I turn back to Yolanda. “I will. I promise.”

  When Gene shows up to relieve me, the butterflies in my stomach do as well.

  “Have fun,” Yolanda calls out.

  I blow kisses and wave as I walk out the door.

  My nerves come along for the ride, perching themselves on the passenger seat. What if the connection we felt in New Hampshire doesn’t translate to here?

  It’s not until I see him in baggage claim that the tension eases inside me. He sees me as well and instantly moves toward me. As the space between us vanishes each one of those butterflies floats away.

  He lets go of the handle of his rolling suitcase and I throw myself into his arms. When his mouth meets mine, it’s safe to say any fear our connection would be lost is gone.

  He lifts his head. “Hey.”

  I grin up at him. “Hey.”

  Then I grab his hand and drag him toward the exit.

  He laughs when we reach my car. “Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?”

  If he only knew what I wanted to do to him, lucky for both of us, he’ll soon find out. “I’m excited to show you my place.”

  He’s so tall he makes my coupe look pint sized standing next to it. I hope he’ll fit.

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  I glance over at him. “I don’t have an awesome mountain view or my own personal sled team, but I hope you like it.”

  After all the cleaning I did, he better like it.

  “As long as you’re there, I’ll like it.”

  There’s something so profoundly simple about that statement, and it’s implication.

  Nothing, not even afternoon traffic brings me down on the way to my apartment.

  After I park, I motion to my building. “This is where I live.”

  He opens his door, steps out and slowly turns in a circle. Raising one hand to shield his eyes, he looks from my building and the group of guys who like to hang out near the side entrance, to the gas station across the street, then the donut shop and back to my place.

  “What do you think?”

  He cocks his head in the direction of the guys. “They ever bug you?”

  The guys in question tend to catcall me every time they see me but are suspiciously silent at the moment. I’m positive it’s because Malcolm is with me and they know he could easily kick their asses.

  “They’re harmless,” I reply.

  Since they’ve never approached me, I’m confident my statement is truthful. Besides, the only thing I’m interested in right now is getting someone up to my apartment. He needs the grand tour, a tour that ends in my bedroom.

  It’s been too long since he’s held me or I’ve felt his bare skin against mine. Each minute we’re standing out here in the parking lot increases the chance I’ll say screw it and pounce on him out in the open. Since I don’t want to spend our first night back together in jail for public indecency, we need to get moving.

  “Let’s get your suitcase.”

  His gaze eats me up. Can he read my mind? Does he already know all the dirty things I want to do to him? And, most importantly, how can one look from Malcolm feel like foreplay.

  He’s moving too slow. I fight the urge to push him away from my trunk, grab his bag, and go charging up the stairs with it. Ideally in that scenario he’d chase me. As soon as we’d get inside I would enjoy letting him catch me.

  I tug on his hand. “The stairs are this way.”

  There are four sets of stairs to my building. I use one of the side ones since it’s the most convenient route to my apartment.

  “I’m on the second floor.”

  If he wasn’t carrying his suitcase, we could easily walk side by side up them. Instead, he walks so close behind me I feel the weight of his presence with each step I take. I’m aching for him by the time we reach my door.

  I jam my key into the lock. “This is me.”

  Before he can reply, I spin, fist my hand in his shirt and pull him in. Dropping his suitcase, his arms engulf me and he pauses only to kick the door closed before his lips find mine.

  Forget the grand tour, we peel off only as much as necessary before he’s inside me again.

  “Yes,” I groan.

  He kisses me senseless as he makes love to me right there on my entryway floor.

  It’s not until we’re both spent that I say, “So how do you like my apartment?”

  Moving his face from where his lips were exploring my neck, he stares down at me with tender eyes. “If the rest of the place is like the entry, I can’t wait to see it.”

  Tracing his jaw with my fingertip I shift under him. “I can’t believe we didn’t even make it to the bedroom.”

  His hips press into mine. “We’ll get there.”

  I grin up at him. “I might need a couple hours to recover first.”

  Truth is, if he wanted to, I could go again right now. Something about him makes me feel like I was a horny teenager again.

  He stands then reaches a hand down to help me up.

  “Wait right here.” I dash to my bathroom to change out of my work outfit and freshen up while he straightens his clothes and buttons his jeans.

  During the summer months I live in simple cotton sundresses to lounge around in at home. They’re cute but since we blast the AC at Chic I don’t wear them to work.

  My dark brown hair is mussed from our entryway quickie. I do my best to smooth it down before I hurry back to him. My apartment is not big at all so it’s adorable to see Malcolm hasn’t moved an inch from where I ordered him to wait.

  “Ready for the tour?”

  My question is laughable becau
se he can see the kitchen and living area from where he stands.

  He stretches out his hand to me. “Yes.”

  Once my palm is pressed to his, I tug him toward my sofa. “This is my living room.”

  He nods, biting back a smile.

  “You may ravish me on this sofa but since it’s small we’ll probably need to get creative and remove the back cushions.”

  His eyes turn assessing and settle on my little, barely bigger than a loveseat, red sofa. “I’m sure we can figure something out, but as a backup, there’s always the floor.”

  I press my legs together, remembering just how good he can take care of business on the floor.

  Giving his hand another tug, I pull him the few steps to my miniature kitchen. “I have beer.”

  He nods his chin toward the counter. “Do I get to ravish you in here too?”

  I move in close, pressing my front to his. “You can ravish me anywhere you like.”

  He drops my hand to grip my hips. “That’s good to know.”

  Staring up at him, I wet my lips.

  He pulls in a breath and spins me around so now his chest is flush against my back.

  Using his hands to guide me, he propels me farther into my apartment.

  I point as we pass it. “Bathroom.”

  Then, we reach the only other room on this short tour. “This is my room.”

  We stand in the doorway, his hands still warm on my hips and I’m suddenly self-conscious about my space again. My bedroom, like the rest of my apartment, is small. I have enough room for a queen sized bed, a dresser, and my nightstand. My closet is surprisingly a decent size, but not on the tour.

  Even though it’s small and doesn’t have any sort of view, I still think my place is cute. When I decorated it, I had to be intentional about what I put in it since space was an issue.

  On the wall behind my bed, I have a giant tapestry print. It’s of lanterns hanging between two palm trees, the trees on either side, the glow of an approaching sunrise at the bottom merging into the lingering darkness of night at the top, taking center stage.

  The colors of the print spoke to me when I bought it and to highlight them, I’ve kept everything else in my room white or beige.

  Wanting to see his reaction, I tip my chin up to look at Malcolm. It’s a surprise to see his serious expression.

  He clearly isn’t impressed.

  I look down at my feet. “I know it’s small.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that.”

  My gaze shifts back up to meet his. “What were you thinking?”

  “Your room fits you. It’s welcoming, beautiful, and I’m guessing will be hard to leave.”

  His words root me where I stand. If my room is like me, he’s saying I’m hard to leave.

  When it comes to us, so far I’ve only had practice leaving. Right now I wonder just how hard it will be this time to have to watch him go.

  Focus on this moment, I remind myself. He just got here; if I start thinking about him leaving already, there’s a real chance I might cry. The last thing Malcolm needs is me being all weepy and ruining our time together. I’m going to make this visit so good he’ll never want to leave.

  Spinning in his arms, I stare up at him. “Want to go to the beach?”

  He grins at me, his smile spreading across his gorgeous face. “Sure.”

  I guess he got a kick out of how enthusiastically I asked. “Did you bring a suit?”

  He nods, smile still in place.

  “Well, we don’t have all day. Go grab your bag.”

  Lowering his lips to mine, he gives me a hard and fast kiss before he goes. It’s a good thing his back is to me as he walks away, if not, he’d see just how much his kiss could affect me.

  Reaching out, I press my palm flat against my wall in case my now weak knees decide to give out.

  After a couple of seconds, I trust them to keep me upright. Only then do I move to my closet to grab a bikini.

  Swimwear is a weakness for me since I’m happiest with my toes in the water and my ass in the sand. He may have a picture perfect view of Mount Woodlake outside his window back home but, if there’s any hope for us, he better not be one of those people who hate the ocean.

  That would be a deal breaker.

  What’s funny is a couple of weeks ago, him living in New Hampshire was one. That was before he made the offer to come out here. Now, with him standing in my apartment, I’m thinking anything might be possible.

  Once we’re changed and ready, I practically dance to my car. I’m so excited to share my favorite place with him.

  Thirty-five minutes later, we’re parked and are just a short walk away from having our toes in the sand.

  He didn’t bring flip-flops or sandals so when we reach the end of the beach access path, I wait to see what he’ll do. As sexy as he is, he might drop down a notch if he doesn’t take his shoes off.

  Time slows, the sky dims, and the cries of seagulls fade while at first he does nothing. The corners of my mouth start to fall but are saved when he bends, unlaces his tennis shoes, and slips them off. I exhale a contented sigh of relief.

  Following suit, I step out of my flip-flops and reach down to grab them by the straps.

  It’s a weekday so while there are several beachgoers to navigate around, it’s not crazy crowded.

  Thankfully, it seems like all of the spring break college kids are back at school. As much as I love the beach, even I avoid it during spring break season.

  With me leading the way, we find our own little stretch of sand with an unobstructed view and spread out our towels side by side.

  I pull off my cover up, and pass him my bottle of sunblock. “Will you do me?”

  He gives me a look so hot it’s a wonder my bikini doesn’t melt right off of me. “I’ll do you now, I’ll do you later, I’ll do you any chance I get.”

  My lips part and I manage to eek out an, “Okay.”

  He grins and motions for me to lie down. With my belly to my towel I groan in satisfaction when his hands touch me. He doesn’t just smear the sunblock on me. No, with his strong hands and long fingers, he massages it into my skin.

  Any lingering stress I had over his visit evaporates under his skilled hands. He’s made me putty, extremely turned on putty. All I want to do is slide on top of him and rub every inch of me all over every inch of him.

  “Turn over.”

  Tilting my head I meet his gaze. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  He blinks. “I need to get your front.”

  “You do to my front what you just did to my back, I’m going to strip us both down and ride you. Since that would get us both arrested, you need to let me get my front.”

  The tip of his tongue coasts over the seam of his lips. “When we get back to your place I’d like to watch you get your front.”

  The fire he stoked with his sunblock massage roars into an inferno. The heat within me surprises a shiver of need from me.

  Malcolm doesn’t miss my reaction and grins while he shifts to face the water.

  He stares out at the vast blue water. “I could sit here all day.”

  A thrill races up my spine because I feel exactly the same way and I love that we share that.

  “This is my favorite place in the world.”

  “You’ve seen mine and now you’ve shown me yours.”

  Before I can remark on his naughty play on words he adds, “I like your favorite place.”

  Four

  “Does that work for you?”

  It’s been a month since Malcolm came to visit me. A month of text messages, phone calls, and video chats almost every day with him. It still isn’t enough. The distance is killing both of us. I know we’ve spent less than ten days total in each other’s company. It may not seem like a long time but it was enough for us.

  When I was ten-years-old, I had a hand churned vanilla sundae topped with fresh pear slices and whipped cream. To this day, I still remember what it tasted l
ike and you’d think with ingredients that simple, I would have been able to recreate it if I tried. Thing is, I have tried and while good, none of the sundaes I made ever tasted as good as that one.

  It’s the same with connections. I’ve dated and I’ve gone out with enough guys to know what I like but even if they had all the ingredients, I never felt the connection I had with Malcolm with anyone else.

  I open up my laptop. “I’m going onto their website right now.”

  “I’m setting up mine as we speak.”

  With my phone cradled between my shoulder and my ear, my fingers move across my keyboard as I launch a discount travel website.

  Neither of us are millionaires. It’s not like we can jump on a flight to see each other at the drop of a hat. Still, our hope is by each of us setting up a travel alert online we can capitalize on discounted tickets and see each other more often.

  “Do both Houston and Austin,” I say.

  I don’t mind driving a few hours to get him if it means we can have more time together.

  “On it,” he replies.

  I wish he was on me.

  “All right, mine is all set.”

  He exhales. “Likewise.”

  I pout at my computer screen. “This sucks.”

  He doesn’t disagree, but he does change the subject. “Did you go to the beach today?”

  A smile tugs at my lips, not because of his question, but because I know he already knows the answer to it. Most women would be annoyed to repeat themselves. I’m not because the only reason he asked is because he wants to cheer me up and one of the quickest ways to do that is to get me talking about my favorite place.

  “I wish you were there with me.”

  He doesn’t let me ruin his attempt to cheer me up. “You could always call me the next time you go and we’ll listen to the seagulls together.”

  My throat gets thick, as my eyes start stinging. “Okay.”

  His voice goes soft and earnest. “Heather.”

  My screen goes blurry and I blink away the wetness hitting my eyes.

  I guess he can tell I’m about to start crying. “Don’t mind me. I’m being silly.”