Fixer Upper: A Curvy Woman Romance

by C L Cruz

  “Can you forgive me?” he asks. “Our date doesn’t have to be a bust. I can call the restaurant and see—”

  But I don’t let him finish. Instead, I clear the distance between us, wrap my arms around his neck, and pull his mouth down to meet mine in a passionate kiss that I hope conveys everything I can’t find the words to say.

  He slams the door with his foot and backs me further into the room, his big hands cupping my face. The backs of my knees hit the arm of the couch and he tips me back onto it, easing himself down on top of me. My hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt, and he stops kissing me only long enough to tug it over his head and toss it to the floor.

  It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen him without a shirt on, it’s still a beautiful sight. The man is cut from granite, and this time, I run my hands over every inch while his mouth explores mine. He’s perfect.

  Well, he’s not perfect. He’s real, maybe a bit of a fixer-upper, but he has good bones and an even better heart. And best of all, he’s mine.

  He’s perfect for me.

  And I’m glad he’s here to catch me when I fall.

  Chapter Eight

  Roan

  Tara’s touch is about to send me over the edge. I clasp her hands together in one of mine and lift them over her head, pressing them into the cushions. My mouth moves across her cheek to her neck, then her collarbone, then the swell of her breasts just accessible over the top of her dress.

  “Take this off,” I tell her, plucking at the neckline with my free hand.

  She opens her eyes. “I need my hands back.”

  I release her and sit back, letting her sit up and reach for the zipper on the side. I help her undo the zipper and then pull the dress off over her head. Her breasts, still in the lacy white bra, rise and fall with her excited breaths, and I love seeing her mouth pink and swollen from kissing me. I love seeing her come undone.

  Reaching around her, I pull the rubber band from her hair. She shakes it out, the brown waves cascading over her shoulders again, just how I like it. I kiss my way down her body, stopping to pay special attention to any spot that makes her squirm, like her neck, the insides of her elbow, the crease of her hip.

  As I nip at the inside of her thighs, she lets out a small moan. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  “Consider it revenge,” I say, looking up at her. “You’ve been driving me crazy since I first saw you.”

  Even I can only hold out for so long. I hook my thumbs in the waistband of her panties and pull them slowly off of her legs, kissing and biting as I go but returning quickly to the apex of her legs and the dusting of curls there. I’m still wearing my jeans, and the sight of it makes my dick strain against my zipper.

  I slide to the floor on my knees and tug her ass to the edge of the couch. She gives a little shriek but lies back on the couch and spreads her legs, lifting one onto my shoulder and planting her other foot on the newly constructed coffee table. I slide a finger against her and find her already wet. When I brush that same finger against her clit, she gasps, pushing up on her elbows to watch me.

  Seeing her looking, I pause. “It’s not too late to go to dinner, you know.”

  She gives a breathy chuckle. “Yes, it is.”

  I laugh, too, and return my attention to the meal in front of me. Spreading her with one hand, I lick her from back to front, stopping to circle her clit. She cries out and falls back, and I do it again and again until she’s writhing against my face, her hands twisting in my hair, pressing me against her as she seeks that sweet release. I slide one finger inside of her, then another as her wetness grows. And then, she’s screaming my name, her legs clamping around my shoulders, her juices flooding my mouth. I don’t relent, not coming up for air until her hands relax and her legs go limp.

  “Holy shit,” she gasps, pushing herself up to look at me again. “That was amazing.”

  I grin lasciviously at her. “We’re not done yet.”

  She reaches between us and makes quick work of my belt before sliding my jeans and boxer briefs down my legs. She takes me in both hands and lowers her mouth over the head of my cock, doing something magical with her tongue. With a guttural groan, I gather her hair at the nape of her neck so I can watch her, and she looks up at me, her brown eyes wide as she swallows my hard length. My hips twitch almost involuntarily, thrusting deeper, but she doesn’t stop. Her head bobs up and down, quicker and deeper until I feel my balls start to tighten.

  “Wait,” I gasp, pulling away from her. “I want to come inside of you. This time,” I add, a promise of more to come.

  I pull her up and spin her around, and she drapes her body over the back of the couch as I quickly dig a condom from my wallet and put it on. When I look up, I pause, taking in the sight of her luscious body until she peeks back at me and I move forward to claim her. My hands run over the smooth skin of her round ass as I position myself behind her, pressing against her tight, wet entrance. I slide inside slowly, letting her adjust to me. When I’m buried inside of her, she moans a little, reaching around and digging her nails into my hip.

  “Is this okay?” I ask, running a hand up her spine to her neck and back down again.

  She gives a small shiver. “Yes, it’s perfect. Just…”

  “Just what?” I ask.

  “Just fuck me, Roan.”

  Ask and you shall receive. I pull out and thrust back inside of her, over and over again, my balls slapping her clit. I grab her ass, holding on tight, unable to help myself from giving it a few love-taps that make Tara cry out. The couch moves with my powerful thrusts, sliding across the floor. She pushes back against me, meeting my every movement. It’s almost too much for me, and I’m not ready for this to be over yet.

  I tug her back against me and pull us both to the floor. She turns and straddles me, staring down at me as she starts to move, slowly at first but building in speed until she’s bouncing on my dick, her head thrown back in pleasure, her fingers tugging at her nipples. I reach between us and strum her clit, and she grinds her hips against my hand. I can feel her pussy fluttering around me as she teeters on the edge.

  She comes for a second time with a shriek, dropping her head to my chest, and I follow just a second later, burying myself deep inside of her with a growl of pleasure. A second later, she falls to the floor beside me, and I pull her into my arms, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Bruce Willis who?” I whisper with a sigh.

  She looks up at me, her head on my chest. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I say, shaking my head but still chuckling at my own private joke.

  We stay like that for a few minutes, side-by-side, listening to the sounds of our breathing. Eventually, she rolls over, and I see her studying her bookshelves.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask.

  “I think…I’m ready to start writing again.”

  I can’t help but smile proudly. “So, are you saying that I was the cure for writer’s block all along?”

  She purses her lips at me. “You really are a cocky barbarian, aren’t you?”

  “You forgot the lord part.”

  She scoffs and starts to get up, but I pull her back down, pressing her against me and peppering her face with kisses as I drape one leg over her waist. “Tomorrow…” I tell her. “You can write all you want. Tonight, you’re mine.”

  We don’t talk again for a long time after that, and once the moon is high in the sky, we race each other over the dunes for the ocean, where we fall into each other’s arms again, laughing and kissing until pleasure leaves us breathless and panting beneath the stars. This is our special place, and I fully plan on spending the rest of my life here with this woman. This is forever, constructed on a strong foundation with good bones.

  I build houses; she builds books…and together, we can build a life.

  Epilogue

  Tara

  I pull my SUV up in front of the Waters house and cut the engine, smiling when I see Roan’s
truck in the driveway. I’ve been gone on a book tour for my second book, “The Viking’s Villain,” for a couple of weeks now. I was supposed to be back tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait and drove through the night to surprise my boyfriend.

  I’m not surprised to find him at his parents’ house. They really are a close-knit unit, and luckily, they welcomed me with open arms. Mrs. Waters and I have brunch together almost every Sunday before meeting the book club, and Mr. Waters is constantly tinkering with my car. It’s the family I always imagined but never thought I would have.

  Roan and his dad are working in the garage, building some kind of rack for the Waters’ kayaks. It seems like they’re always working on something, whether it’s here or at our house on the beach. The Hackett House has since been renamed “The Writer’s Retreat,” and now comes complete with its own sign, hand-carved by Roan himself as a birthday surprise for me this year. And it truly is my retreat, the house of my dreams.

  It doesn’t hurt that I really love my roommate. Roan moved in not long after our first night together, and we’ve been practically inseparable ever since. This is the longest we’ve ever been apart.

  Roan is on a ladder in the middle of the garage, a tape measure stretched out against the wall, when he finally sees me watching him. He jumps a little, making the ladder tip precariously, and I rush forward and put a hand on the ladder to steady it.

  “Careful,” I scold him.

  He beams at me as he climbs down. “Good thing you’re here to catch me.” He gathers me up in a hug. Over his shoulder, I see the garage door open, and Mrs. Waters comes out to join us with a pitcher of sweet tea.

  Pulling away, he holds me at arm’s length and studies me. “What are you doing here, though? You’re early.”

  I shrug. “The early bird gets the worm.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “You know what the early bird doesn’t get? The perfect welcome home. I had it all planned out…a candlelit dinner, a dip in the ocean…”

  I feel my cheeks flush as I look past him to see if his parents caught that last bit. Roan and I skinny-dip like it’s going out of style. We spend more time naked on the beach than we do in bathing suits. But they don’t seem bothered by it. In fact, they seem suspiciously like they’re waiting for something.

  Roan puts down the tape measure and digs in his pocket. “Since you just couldn’t wait, I don’t see any reason why I should have to.” And then, he drops to one knee, brandishing a velvet jewelry box in one hand.

  My hands clap to my mouth, but my gasp still echoes through the garage. “What are you doing?” I mumble through my fingers.

  “Tara Tessener, I knew from the moment we first met that you were unlike any woman I’ve ever known.”

  I choke out a laugh, thinking about our first encounter.

  He smirks but continues. “You’re beautiful, kind-hearted, passionate, creative—everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman. In a partner. You’re my queen, and I’m your Viking lord, and maybe I make stupid mistakes now and then, but I will spend the rest of my life fighting to earn my place at your side. Tara, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” I answer tearfully. “Of course, I will.”

  He laughs nervously, as if there were ever a chance I would say no, and takes my hand, sliding the diamond solitaire ring onto it. Then, I pull him to his feet and plant a big kiss on him while his parents applaud. I hear Mrs. Waters say something about privacy, and she turns and drags her husband into the house.

  Roan pulls back and looks down at me, a smile on his handsome face. “I had it all planned out,” he says. “The perfect storybook proposal.”

  I stroke the hair at the nape of his neck and shrug. “I don’t need the fantasy anymore,” I tell him. “Not when I have you. Not when I have the real thing.”

  He captures my mouth in a kiss, and I realize with certainty that this is it.

  This is my happily ever after.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Sail into the future with Roan and Tara! Sign up to C.L. Cruz’s newsletter and receive an exclusive bonus epilogue.

  Thank you for reading Fixer Upper! I hope you enjoyed Roan and Tara’s story. Please don’t forget to leave a quick review on Amazon. Even a sentence or two will help other readers find their next favorite story!

  Check out the next in the series, Getting Wet by Mila Crawford!

  Coming to Amazon and Kindle Unlimited on April 21st!

  It’s Raining Men!

  This small town is paradise. Beautiful beaches, year-round warm weather and friendly neighbors. There’s only one thing missing—single ladies. It’s Raining Men in Spring, Florida and the lonely residents are hungry to find their soulmates.

  During the month of April, some of your favorite instalove authors are bringing you stories set in this fictional town where the men significantly outnumber the ladies. Come meet us in Spring to find your next book boyfriend.

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  Dani

  I have a habit of falling for men who are unattainable. It’s how I keep myself from getting hurt—if nothing ever starts, nothing can ever end. But when I end up with my boss, Harrington Abbot, at an out-of-town conference and we finally get to know each other outside of the office, sparks fly. Maybe it’s time to finally take a risk and choose love over security, even if it might mean getting my heart broken.

  Quick Trip is a steamy, standalone, office romance novella.

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  Also by C.L. Cruz

  Oakwood City Players

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  Big Girls Do It Better

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  Just Desserts

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  Multi-Author Series

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  About the Author

  C.L. Cruz writes steamy romance stories about strong, independent women and the men who love them. She is a single mom of two young children currently hoping for her own happily ever after.

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Cruz at:

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