The Fix Up by Kendall Ryan
When he pulls away, he does so only a few inches, and rests his forehead against mine. “Fuck, you taste good.”
Everything inside me clenches. Even the way this man curses is hot.
Pulling back a fraction more, Sterling focuses his eyes on mine. His are dark, glazed over with hot lust, and it makes me want him even more, knowing I affect him as much as he does me.
With a tiny groan at the back of his throat, he pulls back to study me. Swiping his thumb across my lower lip, he releases a pained exhale. He doesn’t ask how the kiss was, or tease me to see if he passed the test. We both know that kiss was utterly perfect. Intense. It was the real thing. So real, it’s a little scary. Some people just click—their chemistry or pheromones or something. I know I could easily fall for him, and given the direction his life’s headed, I can’t let that happen.
“We should stop before we do something we can’t take back,” he says.
“Or something we’ll regret in the morning.”
I rise from the couch while Sterling does the same. The obvious strain at the front of his jeans is impossible not to notice. Holy erection!
He clears his throat and leads me toward the door.
We stand there, our breathing ragged as though we’ve just run an Olympic race, not quite ready to say good night.
Feeling brazen, this time I’m the one lifting up on my toes to press my lips against his. It’s meant to be a chaste kiss good-bye, but that’s all it takes for Sterling’s control to snap. His hands thread through the hair at the back of my neck as he tilts my mouth to his. He explores my mouth with deep, drugging kisses as I writhe against him, desperate for more.
The connection we shared tonight was more than physical. But nothing could have prepared me for this. The grinding of his hips against mine, the rigid length of his massive erection pressing right there. I want more.
Growing need outweighs all common sense. Hooking one leg around his waist, I pull us closer. He drags his hands up my sides, his touches changing from innocent to seductive as he palms my breasts, massaging them, grazing my pebbled nipples with his thumbs.
I suck in a breath at the sudden wash of heat rushing through me.
Overcome with lust, I reach down to grip the firm bulge of his erection. Even covered in denim, it’s impressive, warm and solid in my palm.
With a grunt, he swears under his breath, pressing us even closer so that his hands are now on my ass and his thigh is pressed between my legs.
Ripping my mouth from his, I suck in a deep breath. I feel as though I’ve been underwater, deprived of oxygen for too long. My heart is hammering, and I’m dizzy and flushed.
“I’d better go.” My voice comes out so soft, and I realize it’s because I haven’t spoken a single word since that kiss that tipped my world upside down.
He opens the door for me and leans against the frame while I slip my purse over one shoulder. “Thank you for coming over.”
“I had fun,” I whisper, my lips damp and swollen from his onslaught of hungry kisses.
“We should hang out again.” He smiles.
I nod, unsure how in the world I’ll be able to hang out with him again without things between us turning heated.
His expression changes, and I see something dark pass through his gaze. “Are you sure about this?”
I shrug. “Someone’s going to have to keep an eye this shit show.”
He chuckles and gives me a brief hug before releasing me. “Night, Camryn,” he murmurs.
When I make it downstairs, the friendly doorman has a cab waiting for me.
“Good evening, miss,” he calls as I slip inside.
Miss.
The word only serves to remind me that some other girl is soon going to be Mrs. Sterling Quinn. The thought is sobering.
Chapter Sixteen
Sterling
As I stand here cleaning the dishes, I’m in shock at how well tonight went. I went out on a limb, given that I never plan dates, and Camryn isn’t even someone I’m supposed to be dating, but that was incredible. That kiss. The conversation. How much she affected me. Her soft, tempting curves, the way she shivered when I fondled her gorgeous breasts.
I wanted more with her, to explore her body and make her cry out in pleasure. I wanted to watch her come on my tongue, my fingers, my cock. I get half-hard again just picturing it. Her head thrown back in ecstasy, her honey-colored hair spread across my pillow, those perfect pink lips crying out my name.
But I settled for her sweet, tender kisses because there’s one thing I’m certain of. When we make love, it will damn sure be on a bed where I can take my time with her. Camryn deserves intimacy and someone who’ll look after her needs properly.
I wonder if she’d like it slow and tender—leisurely lovemaking with plenty of soft kisses. Or hard and fast, my hips driving my cock deep inside her over and over again. Maybe she likes a bit of both . . .
Fuck. Many more erotic daydreams like that and I’ll be tossing off to thoughts of her for the third time this week.
That shit about her finding her lobster—I smile when I think of it. Behind her tough persona, she’s actually quite a softy. A romantic. The basic human need for closeness has never felt so real. I’ve spent the past years pushing all of it from my brain, but now, confronted with someone who challenges all my preconceived notions, I’m awestruck.
My hands pause in the dishwater.
Fuck.
That was my one rule. I promised myself that under no circumstances would I fall for her.
But I can already feel it happening.
This won’t end well if real feelings get involved. Camryn will end up hurt, and I’ll be the arsehole who broke her heart. My uncle’s words from earlier tonight ring in my ears.
Pissed off at myself for possibly fucking up the one positive thing in my life right now, my friendship with Camryn, I throw the dishtowel onto the counter. I need to stay focused. And tonight with her, I’ve been anything but. I was ready to call off the entire wedding charade, just for a chance to sink into her warm body.
Knowing I won’t be able to sleep until I blow off some steam, I figure a long drive out to New Jersey should do the trick. I can check on my mum too, and that always helps put my mind at ease. I grab my keys and stalk out into the night.
• • •
I spent the night curled up on the small waiting-room couch, and now I’m sitting in the rocking chair beside my mum’s bed.
We’re sharing a cup of tea, and my somber mood from last night has disappeared somewhat. Being here with her, reminding myself of my purpose, all of those things seem to help.
Mum has a bandage on her arm where scratch marks from last night lay underneath. She looks around, her brows knitting together as she takes in the room around us.
Given her bewildered expression, I think she’s about to ask where we are, which she has countless times. Most times she remembers that she lives here now for treatment, and that she’s sick. But other times, it falls on me to break the devastating news to her like it’s the first time she’s heard it.
“Where’s your dad?” she asks.
I set down my tea and take a deep breath.
Explaining to my dear mum for the third time this month that my father is gone, that he pissed off and left us, isn’t something I want to put her through. I simply don’t have the strength, and neither does she, I think.
“He’s just run out for milk. He’ll be back in a few minutes,” I lie, the words like sandpaper in my throat.
Mum watches my eyes like she’s deciding whether she should believe me, then gives me a nod. “You’re such a good boy, Sterling.”
I’m not. Not at all, but I’m trying to be.
Chapter Seventeen
Camryn
“Are you serious? Do I really have to spell this out for you, Camryn?” Anna’s eyebrows dart up.
“What?” I’m sitting in a massaging pedicure chair, wedged between my two besties and utterly confus
Before Olivia waddled in, I filled Anna in on what exactly hanging out with Sterling had entailed. Well, not everything. She can’t ever know that I dry-humped his leg at his front door like a dog in heat. Hot shame rushes through me. So unprofessional. But she does know we kissed.
“For a girl with a business degree and a successful career, you can be really freaking stupid sometimes,” Anna says.
“What in the world is she talking about?” Olivia asks, looking perplexed.
“Not a clue.” I submerge my feet into peppermint-scented water that’s the perfect temperature—one level below scalding. Ahh. Releasing a satisfied sigh, I close my eyes.
“Now, tell me what this nonsense is about.”
“Camryn and Sterling hung out last night. At his place,” Anna says.
“Hung out?” Olivia asks, her hand absently stroking her belly.
Anna shrugs. “That’s what the kids are calling it these days.”
“I don’t understand,” Olivia says. “How’s the search coming? Are you finding any good candidates for him to date?”
“Yeah, Camryn, are you?” Anna smiles like she knows all of my secrets.
Fuck. Maybe she does. Maybe she can see straight through me, feel the desire I have for him.
I clear my throat, hoping to sound professional. “Yes, actually. There are a few who look promising so far.”
“That’s great. Charles Quinn is paying a small fortune for our services, so I don’t want to let him down. And of course, Sterling. As crazy as this situation is, he deserves to get that inheritance.”
I nod solemnly. She’s absolutely right.
“Since you have some great candidates all lined up, I take it he’ll be going on dates soon?” Anna asks, probing.
“Absolutely.”
I grit my teeth. What the hell is with Anna? She’s the one who encouraged me to go out with Sterling in the first place, and now she’s acting like I’ve done something wrong?
“That’s good to hear.” Olivia rises from her chair, slipping her swollen feet into the pink foam sandals. “I have to pee again,” she says with a groan.
Once Olivia’s out of earshot, Anna turns to face me. “What’s going on with you and Sterling?” she hisses. “The truth.”
“What do you mean? I told you already. We hung out. It was . . . nice. And we might have kissed at the end.” I can’t look her in the eye as I say that last part. She’s right. I am stupid.
Anna rolls her eyes. “Listen, I was all for hooking up with the hottie British walking aphrodisiac, but that was before I realized that you actually liked him.” Anna lets out a heavy sigh. “If you fall for him, if real feelings get involved, and let’s face it, they will, because I know you, Cam,” she says, giving me a side-eyed look, “it’s not going to end well. It can’t.”
“It’s fine, Anna. I’m fine.”
“You’re a smart girl, and I love you. But don’t be stupid enough to get involved with him. You said so yourself; he’s a manwhore.”
I inhale and hold my tongue as Olivia waddles back from the bathroom.
My mood has turned, and what was supposed to be a fun girls’ night out has turned into a counseling session. I don’t even want to be here anymore. If I could pull my feet out of this tub and march out of here right now, I would.
But the thing is, Anna’s right. And she’s only trying to protect me. So instead of making a dramatic exit, I bite my tongue and try to enjoy myself as the pedicurist rubs warm oil onto my feet. Which, honestly, isn’t difficult to do.
My monthly pedicure outing with my girlfriends is one of my favorite days. This is my happy place. Perched on our thrones, we transition to safer topics like baby names and bucket list items, and who’s banging whom at the office.
I watch as my toes are painted cherry red, my earlier discomfort slipping away.
“Noah and I are wanting to try that fancy Italian place, La Brasso, before the baby comes, but there’s a three-month waiting list for reservations.”
Anna smirks, and if my feet weren’t otherwise occupied, I would kick her. But deciding I don’t want to conceal something from Olivia, I speak up.
“Sterling and I went there last weekend,” I manage to say.
“No kidding?” she asks. “Wow. Wonder how he got you guys in.” She rubs her chin, seemingly more concerned about how to score a reservation than the fact that I was there with her husband’s best friend.
I breathe a sigh of relief as we finish up. Maybe Anna’s wrong. Maybe this isn’t the worst thing in the world.
Once we’re done, we head to the front of the spa to pay. Anna’s busy swiping her credit card and making small talk with the cashier when Olivia turns to face me.
“Promise me one thing,” she says, her face solemn.
My best guess is that she’s going to make me swear not to let anyone take any of those horrible hospital-bed pictures after you’ve just had a baby and your vagina is still hanging out.
“Of course. Anything.”
She grips my shoulders, looking deep into my eyes. “Promise me you won’t fall for Sterling.”
My mouth goes dry, and I find myself nodding. “Of course,” I mutter, but it already feels like a lie.
Chapter Eighteen
Camryn
I’m not normally one to succumb to peer pressure, but in this instance, I crumbled faster than a cookie at snack time. When Anna and Olivia asked me last night about lining up a date for Sterling, at first I scoffed at the idea, but the stack of printouts on my desk have been calling my name.
I leaf through the pile again. Smiling faces of hopeful women stare back at me, each with the secret desire to become Mrs. Sterling Quinn. I want to shove these into the back of a drawer, or better yet, the recycle bin, but instead I select one at random from the pile.
Meredith Aimes.
She’s got long dark hair that hangs in a sleek curtain down her back, and a regal, classy look. She’s beauty-queen pretty. Glancing over her profile, I discover she’s a former competitive swimmer, currently a teacher at a special-education school, and volunteers in her free time at an animal shelter.
Nope. That’s a hard pass. I set her profile aside. I might be willing to set him up, but not with someone who’s freaking perfect.
I grab another three sheets from the stack and reject all three. A sweet nanny who loves watching football. A chef with a passion for public service. A gymnast who visits her sick grandma every Sunday after church.
Lifting another, I swallow a curse. A brown-eyed temptress with tits out to there. Fuck! Those things are magnificent. They put my B-cups to shame. Sterling doesn’t need to see these. Fat chance of that happening when I shove her photo straight into the garbage.
Shit. What is up with all these Miss Perfects?
Annoyed, I grab one more.
Bianca Tetherdine. Blond. Perky. A college student, barely twenty-one.
I roll my eyes. Fine.
This will work. She’s cute, so he won’t suspect anything. It’s not like I can send him off with someone fugly. But I also doubt they’ll have anything in common.
I text Sterling to ask if he’s free this weekend, and once he confirms he is, I get everything all set up. Bianca’s free to meet for a drink tomorrow night. I confirm the time and place with her, then text Sterling again.
Camryn: I’ve set you up on a date tomorrow. You’re meeting Bianca at eight at Lucky’s Tavern.
I expect a text back. Part of me wants to hear him complain about the idea, so I can pat myself on the back for this little experiment, feeling content that he’d prefer to spend his time with me.
But when a text doesn’t arrive, I fear perhaps this is what he’s been waiting for all along. This is my job, what I’m supposed to be doing.
Sterling obviously realizes that, and it’s time I did too. Anna was right all along.
With a heavy heart, I get back to work, intent on pushing all this Sterling b
Hours later, I’m lost in work when a shriek from the office next door steals my attention.
“What was that?” I ask Anna.
“Not a clue. Come on.”
I push out of my chair and follow her. Normally, I’m not one for office gossip, but I could use a little distraction from my lackluster day.
Next door to our shared office is an open space containing six desks for a team of graphic designers. While they lack individual offices, the space is bright and open, and is often used as a communal gathering space for those hoping to catch the latest office gossip.
“What’s going on?” Anna asks as we stroll up.
Stopping near the workstation where they’re all gathered, I see a picture of Sterling on the computer screen. It appears to be a tabloid article. My stomach turns uneasy.
“Just the latest on the gossip site’s latest obsession—Sterling Quinn. He’s rumored to be involved in a secret affair, which could jeopardize the whole marriage/inheritance thing.”
“W-what do you mean?” Anna asks on my behalf, since I’ve suddenly found myself speechless.
Leaning against the side of the desk, I force my gaze from the screen and down to a designer, who’s apparently got all the inside scoop.
“Spill it, Rocky,” I say.
And he does.
“There’re pictures with him and some woman kissing in a corridor.”
He scrolls down the web page, and I see it in all its glory. Sterling’s muscular form wrapped around some tall redhead, their mouths fused together.
Asshole!
Something inside my chest aches, and I feel light-headed. I blink, but the image remains.
“Fuck.” I push off the desk and stalk away, utterly disgusted.
Not only could this jeopardize our working relationship, and the money on the line, but more than that, I trusted him, believed in him, thought we’d made a special connection. Maybe as friends; maybe as more.