Major Renovations (Ritter University #1)

by Vanessa M. Knight

  “Not yet.” Ski loved watching the sparkle in her blue eyes, even if it was while she was giving him shit. He didn’t mind, though. Her mouth curved upward and she looked so damn hot. No judgment. Just questioning. He smiled, and her black hair swung down to cover her face, hiding those eyes. Damn.

  “Why haven’t you told them?”

  Oh hell, he had no clue. He could feed her a load of crap about the lack of reception bars or phone trouble or his lack of time, but that’s all it would be— a load of crap. He had all the time in the world. “I’m trying to let them enjoy what’s left of their vacation. You know, without disappointment.”

  “Postponing the inevitable, huh?”

  A laugh erupted from his chest. “You could say that.”

  “I can’t really throw stones. Parents are difficult.” She looked up from behind that curtain of hair. He placed a finger under the strands, sliding them behind her ear, and let his fingers slowly glance over the skin of her neck. Soft. Electric.

  Her eyes burned and he drew in closer. Closer yet.

  Her face changed and she pulled away. “Umm…”

  Umm… about summed it up. What the hell was that? He grabbed his beer and pulled back a swig. The icy fluid slid down his throat and cooled down his overheated body. “So, where did you learn the construction business?”

  “My dad. After my mom left, there was no one to watch me after school or during the summer— so I helped my dad on the construction sites.”

  “Is that where the Thunder comes from— in Thunder Construction? I know your dad’s name is Smith and you’re Thunder— like your mom, right?”

  “Yeah. She left when I was little.”

  “That must have been hard.”

  “I don’t even remember her, much. She’s always just been gone. I had my dad and construction. The sites became my life. It’s what I know. And every now and then I get a job where I can do my thing. Like with the outside lights. So it’s not all bad. It’s kind of good actually…”

  “You’re lucky. You got the phone call.” Ski stood up. Nervous energy zinged through his veins.

  “Huh?”

  “They say a job in medicine is a calling, yet my phone hasn’t rung.” He grabbed the poker and flipped the log smoldering the fireplace. He watched as sparks jumped and sizzled, reigniting the fizzling burn. Sweet maple smoke spun and danced and curled in the air. “I don’t hear a voice in my ear telling me this is my future.”

  “What does the voice say?”

  “What voice? There’s no voice, no direction.” He dropped the poker by the fireplace and moved back to the couch. “I have no idea.”

  “Sit back.” She grabbed his shoulders and lightly pushed him back against the couch. “Close your eyes.”

  He closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he liked it. He felt her breath on his cheek. And one lid popped open.

  “Keep them closed. You’re relaxing so you can hear that voice. Now breathe in and out. Slowly. What do you want?”

  “I don’t know?” His brain couldn’t think. Not with her breath on him. So warm.

  “Listen to your heart.” She pressed a hand to his chest. “What does it say? What do you want?”

  “I want— I want you.” His lips curved into a smile as her leg slid over his. Oh yeah. He liked this a lot. Her breath slid along his neck, and his eyes flew open when she rested her weight on his thighs.

  “Shhh. Closed.”

  His body was no longer relaxed. Not even close. It was hot, coiled, and ready to love this woman with every muscle. They were heading to point of no return— well, no return without immense pain. If she didn’t stop things, he was going to have a hell of a time stopping himself. The way she rocked her hips was not helping. Just a little at first, but now she was—

  “Hold on.” He pulled back. “Are we…” She moved with a little more insistence, and he nearly hissed. “God, this feels good.”

  She didn’t say anything, just kept shifting her hips. He brought his hands up to her shoulders. They were safer there. He wanted to keep going. He wanted her. He needed… words. Speak. Yes. “We are getting awfully close to something, so if you don’t want this to go further, we should stop now.”

  “No stopping.” She lifted her red dress over her head. Black silk covered the small, delicate parts of her body. The rest was skin. Hot, taut legs led to the first patch of silk, leading to a flat stomach and another thin layer of material that clung to round breasts. She was perfect. “Do you hear it?”

  “Hear what?”

  “The calling.”

  God, he couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing through his veins. He liked where this was going. But… He held his breath while he tried to get his head on straight. He needed to know. “Why, now?”

  “Why not?” She ran a hand down his abdomen, unbuttoning his shirt. She leaned into his ear and whispered, “Do you not want this?”

  Hot breath tickled his neck, sending about a hundred volts straight down through his core. He tensed his thighs to keep from shoving up against her. “God, yes.”

  She pushed the shirt over his shoulders and lowered her lips to his collarbone. He wound his hand through the silken strands of her hair as her tongue slid up his neck. Fire licked up his spine.

  Samantha stood up, a devilish gleam in her eyes. He couldn’t wait to see what that gleam meant. He didn’t have to wait long. And she didn’t disappoint as she ran a hand from her cheek to her chest. Slow. Painfully slow. She caressed her breast, nipples popping under the soft silk of her bra. Her hands moved lower.

  Gowno.

  Lower. She slipped a hand down the front of her thong. Her hips swayed. Back. And. Forth. Her fingers lost in the soft fabric.

  Gowno. She was killing him.

  He needed to touch her. Feel her. He wanted his hand where hers stroked and teased. He reached out to her and she pulled her hips away, sliding the right side of her red thong down over her hip. When it reached her thigh, she stopped. She was so fucking killing him. She dragged the left side of the thong lower, and with a little shimmy sent it all the way down, her heels catching on the red material. She stepped out of the nuisance and stood. Completely bare. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath.

  He leaned forward, reaching for her.

  “Not yet.” She bit at her lower lip and stepped out of his reach. “You are way too overdressed.”

  He could fix that. He unbuttoned. He unzipped. Taking his sweet-ass time. At least it felt like he was taking his time. Two could play at this game. He stood and pushed down his pants and boxers, kicking off his shoes, and then leaned over and grabbed a condom from his pants pocket.

  “You must’ve been a Boy Scout. You’ve come prepared.” She took the little packet from him and tore it open.

  He sucked in a breath when her fingers steadied him. “I’m always prepared, but I haven’t come yet.” She unrolled the condom down his length and he exhaled through his teeth. “Not yet.”

  Her tongue ran over her top lip and she moved her hand lower. Cupped him. Gently. So fucking gently.

  She shifted her feet and inched closer, resting her hands on his shoulders and pulling him toward her. The scent of orange shampoo tickled his nostrils and his hardness rubbed against her soft skin. Wanting. Needing. Samantha pushed her mouth to his. Soft lips. Strong tongue sliding in his mouth, flicking his. She tasted sweet, delicious.

  He picked her up and laid her on the soft leather. Her thighs opened, begging him to come inside. Not yet, though. He leaned over her and inched a finger inside her slick opening. She moaned as his lips found hers. He worked another finger in. Her body quivered.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered as his hand found a rhythm and his thumb found exactly the right spot, circling. Rubbing, stroking, letting every change in her breathing guide him. Her back arched and her walls contracted around his hand. “Don’t…”

  Don’t what? He lay down next to her, half on the couch, half off,
his heart hammering, his lower body heavy and hot with need. Don’t what? “Did I hurt you?”

  “Hell, no.” A slow smile curved her lips. “Don’t stop.”

  Right. As much as his little head wanted him to roll over and get things going, he hesitated. She slid a finger down his chest and lower and— oh so wonderfully— lower.

  “Are you ready for me?” She wrapped her fingers around him, making him shudder. He was never in his life so grateful for a condom. She leaned over and licked his ear. “Yes, you are.”

  The woman was amazing. Perfect.

  He couldn’t get enough. And he couldn’t be happier about it.

  ~»ΨΡ«~

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sam

  A FEW weeks later, the frat house was done and Samantha leaned her foot against a picnic table in another customer’s back yard and held her to-do list. She was trying to concentrate on the work in front of her, but she couldn’t get her mind off Ski. She was working double-time during the day so she’d have time to fall into bed with him at the end of each night. And so far, she’d been successful.

  Successfully pleasured. Successfully ravaged. A goofy smile rested on her lips. The thing just kept coming back. She tried to look mean and serious, but these days her body was just too sated to keep up the pretense.

  It could also be she was anticipating tonight. Another date with Ski had her giddy. Giddy? Well, she would be giddy if she was the type of girl to get giddy. She was merely excited. Horny, even.

  The man was amazing. Those non-surgeon hands were gentle and rough and every combination in between. Everything she needed and wanted them to be. That was one thing she’d miss when this summer fling was over. The way those hands travelled over her body. The flick of his finger…

  Heat pooled between her thighs.

  The swirl of his tongue.

  “Samantha. Thunder.”

  Her eyes focused as she turned to the voice pulling her back to reality. Her daydream stood before her, concern etched on his face.

  “You’re here?” She brought her foot down from the bench. The Captain Morgan stance was not the most seductive of poses.

  “You’re not. What were you thinking about?” Ski asked.

  Heat crawled up her neck as she revisited those happy thoughts. Oh, the thoughts she did think. The delicious thoughts. Her face grew hotter and hotter, with every thought of lick and flick. She wasn’t going to tell him that, though. “Nothing.”

  Ski wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “That grin tells me it’s more than nothing.” He ran a finger down the side of her face. “And those red cheeks tell me I might like it.”

  “Well, I might’ve had some thoughts I could share. I could provide a demonstration if you’re interested.”

  “Hell, yes.” He brought his lips to hers, pulling her closer still.

  Her body hummed. She couldn’t wait to get him alone. She couldn’t wait to have those hands roaming her body.

  “Samantha,” another daydream-killer yelled.

  She pulled away from Ski and met the angry stare of her father. Crap. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard? From the glare he threw at Ski, he’d heard enough.

  “Dad.”

  “Sir.” Ski’s face clouded with embarrassment.

  Sir. He was so cute. Apparently, even though her father told Ski to call him by his first name, Ski couldn’t seem to use it when he was caught with his tongue down Bryan’s daughter’s throat. And they said chivalry was dead.

  “How’s the job coming along?” Despite her father towering over her saying words, her body was not cooperating. Her mind wouldn’t focus, couldn’t focus. Nothing was helping with the vibrations plaguing her body.

  The job? She stared at the tablet in her hands. Oh yeah, job. “Fine. I was just going over the final punch list and we can close down this project.”

  “Uh-huh. How’s the Byrne’s vacation home coming along?”

  “The blueprints are back from the architect, we’re just waiting on the inspector.”

  “How can we be waiting on the inspector? We’re supposed to break ground tomorrow. Haven’t you called him?” Her father flinched and shook his head.

  “I called him. He hasn’t called me back.”

  “Then call him again, Samantha.” His face contorted as he slithered forward. His knee nearly buckled, and confusion covered his too-pale face.

  “Dad?” Samantha watched in horror as her father grabbed his own arm, his face ashen. His eyes widened, his pupils black pools. Time stilled as her father leaned forward, breath stuttering.

  She couldn’t move. Her mind watched. Her body waited. For instruction. For anything. She had to move. She. Had. To do. Something.

  Large arms wrapped around her father’s waist and guided him to the picnic table.

  “Samantha, call nine-one-one. Bryan, I’m going to sit you down, right here on the bench.”

  She watched Ski sit her father on the bench and lean him back against the table. When he removed his hands, her father slipped forward, and Ski was right there, keeping him in place. Words flew from Ski’s lips. Soothing words. Questions. He held her father in place and shoved a hard object in her hand.

  “Huh?” She blinked stupidly at the cell phone and then at Ski.

  “Samantha, honey. Dial. Nine-one-one. Now. We don’t have much time.”

  She grabbed Ski’s phone and stared at the blurred screen. Nine-one-one. Her shaking fingers hit the numbers, and they must have hit the right ones because a woman came on the line, asking the nature of the emergency. Miraculously, Sam’s voice decided to work. “My father, he collapsed.” She even remembered the address. Tears filled her eyes as she stood helplessly next to the table. Ski had her father talking.

  “The paramedics are on the way,” the woman said over the line.

  Ski laid a hand on Samantha’s arm. “Samantha, honey, I need you to get the baby aspirin from your father’s glove compartment.”

  “Huh?” Baby aspirin? Why would he need—

  “Your father just said he has some baby aspirin in the glove compartment. I need you to grab it.”

  She ran to the truck and opened the door. She found the bottle and brought it back to Ski. Sirens howled in the distance, slowly getting closer.

  Ski opened the bottle and put two pills in her father’s mouth. “Chew on these. They’ll help you feel better.” He pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her father. Samantha stared helplessly on the sidelines, her brain still refusing to process more than the minimum.

  Men ran around the corner of the house, one of them carrying a medical bag. “We need a gurney,” one yelled, and another ran back to the front of the house.

  “How are you today, Mister…?” the man with the bag asked, crouching down by Sam’s father.

  “Smith,” Ski answered. “Bryan Smith.”

  “And you are?” He looked at Ski as he reached in his bag and pulled out a stethoscope.

  “Friend. This is his daughter. He was behaving normally, then he grabbed his left arm and slowly slumped forward. I helped him to the table. He was semi-coherent. Able to answer most questions I asked correctly. His breathing is shallow and his pulse is weak. I just gave him two baby aspirin.”

  “Thanks.” The EMT placed his fingers on her father’s wrist just as two men appeared, pushing a gurney. With practiced ease, they moved her father onto it and got him secured.

  A hand rested on her back. “He’ll be all right. Let’s follow him to the hospital.”

  She nodded. Unable to speak. Her father. She couldn’t lose him. She just couldn’t.

  ~»ΨΡ«~

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ski

  THE WAITING room was crowded. Morning fluff chirped from the television hanging from the white walls as Ski sat in a green vinyl chair while Samantha paced back and forth, tissue in her hand.

  “Do you want to sit down?” he asked for the second— third? fourth?— milliont
h time.

  “No. I want to know what's taking so long.” She turned to the internal windows lining the room, watching the doctors and nurses hustling past, trying to keep up with the waiting room of patients and family. But not one came in to give a status. What the hell was taking so long?

  “He'll be okay. We got him here in time.” He hoped.

  “How do you know?” Tears slid down her cheeks. “How can you be so sure?”

  Ski got up and wrapped Samantha in his arms, wishing he could just take away all the pain. Tell her everything would be fine and know that it was true. But she was right. He was pretty sure they got there in time, but there was no guarantee. “I can't be sure. I wish I could.”

  “I can't lose him. He's all I have left.”

  “You have me. I'm not going anywhere.” He ran a hand down her silken hair. He hated that she had to go through this. He hated they were so helpless. On the wrong side of the door. He should be helping. He should be in there with her father, making sure he made it back to his daughter.

  “You're sweet.” Samantha dabbed the tears falling from her eyes with a tissue.

  A helpless ache wrapped around Ski's throat. There was nothing he could do, and every tear was a dagger to his heart. He would do anything, say anything, to stop her tears. To make sure she knew he was here for her. He cared about her.

  “I love you.” Silence greeted the words that snuck past his lips, a noose squeezing tighter and tighter around his neck. The words hung in the air. What had he done? They'd only been together for a little under a month. Best weeks of his life, but it was way too soon to talk love. Dammit.

  “Ms. Thunder.”

  “Yes.” She pulled away from Ski's arms.

  “I'm Dr. Pekich. Your father's angina has worsened, and he’s had a mild heart attack. We need to keep him here for observation.”

  “Will he be okay?”

  “Yes, with diet and exercise, he should be fine. He was very lucky. That was quick thinking giving him aspirin on the scene.”

  “That wasn't me.” She grabbed Ski's hand. “That was Ski.”