Page 12 of Enticing the Fixer

Lord, are my panties still on?“I don’t drink too much. Or stare at a guy all night. Or follow said man to the bathroom and proposition him.”

“What’s the proposition?” Before I can register his movements, his fingers slide through my hair, and he tucks a strand behind my ear.

My knees wobble as my clit twitches and begs for a similar treatment. Ann is so right. I should have picked that loser that was with his girlfriend. At least, I’d have the upper hand, and I wouldn’t be in danger of falling for his lines.

I swallow hard, trying to get moisture back into my mouth before I choke. “I should go back to my friend.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” His eyes slide over me, taking a leisurely stroll over my face before returning to meet my gaze. My breath catches in my lungs. Somehow, he makes this feel more sexual than the man who was staring at my tits.

He grabs my hand and kisses the back of it. My heart thuds in my ears.What am I doing?“They’re playing our song.”

“What?” I blink and try to think through the fuzziness in my brain. He’s like standing too close to an old-fashioned antenna and the TV blacking out.

“It’s our song. Let’s dance.” He laces his fingers through mine and leads me onto the dancefloor amongst the other couples swaying to the music. The song is about a man professing his love for a woman. How he was smitten from the first night after drinking, dancing, and taking her home.

His arms wrap around me, hauling me close to his chest. When his lips graze my ear, my nipples tighten, and goosebumps scatter in all directions. I’ve never danced with a man who was this smooth, from his footing to his words.

“Don’t think about all the reasons not to. Think of all the reasons to….”

I clutch the fabric of his T-shirt. His heart beats steadily against my fingers. I’m terrified to ask, but I can’t stop the words from coming out. “Reasons to… What?”

“To come home with me. To let me pleasure you all night. To forget all your problems for one night because clearly, something has you upset. Man troubles?” His hands run along my back, easing the tension from my body. Yet causing an entirely different type of tautness.

The man has me so off-kilter that I don’t know which way is up. “My ex-husband’s son turned four today. The photos were plastered all over social media when I got off work. It’s been a rough few months, and that was the last straw.”

He withdraws his hand from my back and cups my cheek, tipping my head back. The music slides along my skin like sultry velvet. I want to purr and wrap myself around him.

His thumb brushes along my jawline. “When was your divorce?”

“Three and a half years ago.”

“And the kid is four?” His eyes turn to black granite under the dancefloor lights as if he’s already read the entire story.

“Yes.” I clutch my bag and umbrella tighter in my hand to keep from dropping them on the floor.

“So, tonight is payback?’ His mouth lowers toward mine, and everything else disappears. We’re alone on a private island, and he will bring me endless orgasms. A girl can dream, right?

“It was.”

“Let’s make it more than that.” His mouth covers mine, and my eyelids flutter shut. While Jeffrey was cold and artless at kissing, this man is the opposite. His lips are warm and soft.

After his tongue darts over my bottom lip, he sucks it into his mouth. The movement alternates between lighter and harder. As if he’s already practicing for teasing my clit. The bundle of nerves at my apex throb in anticipation.

The song ends, and I blink as another couple dodges past us as if we’re an inconvenience. Too bad. I’m not breaking away from this man. I can’t as I’m afraid that I need him to breathe.

His hands lace through my hair, and he dives between my lips. Our tongues tangle together in the most sensual kiss I’ve ever experienced. I’m fucked. I’ve never been this far over my head in my life.

Chapter Four

Leo

The woman in my arms is lush and perfect. She’s not the usual type of woman I’ve gone for. Rebecca was blonde with green eyes and thin. Not that this woman is overweight. She’s not, but she has curves to die for, and I want them on display on my 800-thread count sheets.

Shit.I cringe. I’m living in a two-bedroom house near a train track. The plates in the cabinets rattle when the train speeds down the track. Not exactly a place you take a woman to. Especially a woman like this.

I pull back and stare into her eyes. Bright blue. Thick dark lashes. Silky long hair. She blinks, and I’m sunk. I don’t give a fuck that the place is trash or that the thread count to my sheets is 300 instead of the usual 800.

If I walk away, I might miss the mostrealexperience I’ve had since college. When women wanted me and not everything I represent.

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