Page 9 of Fixed (Spicy Bites #2)

FRANKIE

Living with Seth is like getting swept up in the aftermath of a tornado, only instead of wreckage, you’re left with hot, heavy bliss.

The first few days, I’m on edge. Waiting for the hammer to drop.

Waiting for the universe to destroy my happiness.

But nothing happens. No drama, no disaster.

Just him. Just us. He gets me. I get him.

We fall into a rhythm so fast it leaves me dizzy.

All the couple stuff I used to roll my eyes at, now I’m living it.

Shared showers—not for efficiency, but because the sex is out of this world.

Lazy mornings with coffee, him shirtless and rumpled, looking like he just stepped out of a dream.

Ordering groceries online because neither of us wants to deal with the clucking grandmas at the market.

I learn he likes his eggs runny and his bacon burnt to a crisp.

My heart actually melts when he leaves his phone on Do Not Disturb every evening.

“Work can wait, but you can’t,” he says, and it gets me every time.

Three days in, I realize I’m happier than I’ve been in years. It’s so easy, so perfect, that I keep waiting for the catch. There’s always a twist. Always a catch.

We’re on his back porch one evening. Seth’s in a white undershirt and old jeans, barefoot, one foot propped on the porch rail.

He ordered my favorite pizza with pepperoni and Canadian bacon, then poured us both beers.

While waiting for the pizza to arrive, we’re enjoying just being together.

The only sounds are birds singing in the distance.

He glances over at me. “Everything going okay for you?”

I can’t help but smile. “It couldn’t be better.” And I’ve never been happier.

He laughs, tossing his head back, and I’m tempted to jump his smoking hot bones right on the spot. A small black car pulls up, breaking the moment. I sit back and watch as he hops off the porch to grab the pizza from the delivery man.

Seth comes back with the pizza and sets it between us on the slatted patio table. The smell hits me right between the eyes, and my stomach growls loudly. He slides the box open and hands me a slice, then collapses into the chair beside me with his own slice.

“This might be a deal breaker.” He glances over at me with a playfully serious look on his face. “Do you eat the crusts or leave them?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Eat them, obviously.” I take a bite and moan shamelessly, doing my best porn actress imitation. “Good call on the extra cheese.”

“Extra cheese is a must.” He grins, watching me in a way that causes my girly parts to wake up and sing. “I like watching you eat.”

“You’re a weirdo,” I say through a full mouth, but it comes out more affectionate than anything. “My weirdo.”

“That’s right.” He leans over and runs his nose up the side of my neck, sending shivers shooting down my spine. “And you’re all mine, Sassy Pants.”

I don’t taste a bite of the pizza after that.

After my second beer, I blurt, “So, you know all about my family, but I don’t know anything about yours.”

He goes quiet, thinking. The sunset paints gold across his jaw. I want to kiss the sauce off his mouth.

“My family is one of the old money Silver Spoon Falls ‘families’,” he air quotes.

I blink. “Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that at all.

He shrugs. “I grew up a lot like you. Private school in Austin. Full ride to UT Austin for Business.” He stares at me while I absorb this information.

All the signs were there, so I shouldn’t be so shocked.

The fancy house and expensive cars should’ve told me he isn’t a struggling mechanic.

“But I wasn’t happy,” he adds quietly. “I just didn’t know how to change things. ”

I wait. It’s obvious he doesn’t tell people this. “So, what happened? Why aren’t you running a tech startup and living in a massive mansion in Dallas?”

He picks up his beer, staring into the bottle like it might give him answers.

“My parents died in a plane crash when I was twenty-three. My bullshit finding myself days were over, and I had to step in and run the show.” His jaw works.

“I sold the house, set up a charity trust, and put the rest into a savings account. When the owner of the local tire shop decided to retire and put his shop on the market, I jumped at the chance. I combined my love for cars and my business degree, and the rest is history.”

A long silence. I want to say something intelligent, but all I can manage is, “That’s… a lot.”

He shrugs, looking at me like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I know you’re trying to live a normal life without all the craziness that comes with your background.

” He takes my hand in his and brings it to his mouth for a soft kiss.

“I want to reassure you. I live off what I make at the shop. I left my family’s influence behind at their gravesite.

Now, I live the way I want. And I want to live the rest of my fucking life with you. ”

There are so many thoughts zinging around my mind, I can’t even formulate an intelligent response. “Sounds like a plan to me,” is all I freaking manage as we finish the pizza.

The sky overhead shifts from sherbet to black velvet, shot through with a thousand stars as we stare out at the quiet Texas night.

He nudges my knee. “What did you want to be, before all this?”

“Honestly? I wanted to be the CFO of a startup. I even have the business degree to back it up, but no one takes me seriously.” I smile so he knows I’m joking, even if I’m only half joking.

He’s silent for a long time. “You should come work with me.”

I stare at him. “I don’t know the first thing about cars.” Heck, I had no idea Sparkie was on her last legs.

“I’m serious,” he says. “The shop’s outgrown me. I’m barely keeping up with payroll and invoicing, and don’t even get me started on the tax returns. I want you to be my partner.”

It sounds like heaven. “You’d trust me with your baby?”

He leans in and kisses my jaw, soft as a prayer. “I’d trust you with my goddamn life. And now, it’s our baby. You can start tomorrow.” Happiness flows through my soul. “Then I can see you all goddamn day instead of watching the clock, wondering when I’ll be able to get home to you.”

“I love you,” I blurt out before I’m able to stop myself.

His hands slide around my waist like he’s claiming territory he’s been eyeing for weeks, pulling me into him with a grip that’s fucking possessive.

His chest presses against mine, hard and unyielding, and I can feel the heat of him through my shirt like he’s already burning me alive.

He leans down, his breath hot on my lips, and I’m drowning in the scent of him—cologne, beer, and something raw, something male.

Then his mouth crashes into mine, and holy moly, this isn’t just a kiss.

It’s an invasion. His tongue slips past my lips like he’s staking a claim, and I melt into him.

My hands claw at his back, desperate to pull him closer, to feel every inch of him.

His tongue is relentless, twisting with mine in a rhythm that’s dirty and demanding, like he’s trying to fuck me with just his mouth.

I moan into him, and he growls back, the sound vibrating deep in his chest and straight down to my core.

His hands are everywhere. One tangles in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me whimper, while the other slides down to grip my ass.

He squeezes hard, pulling me into him, and I can feel the thick, hard outline of his cock pressing against my thigh, begging for attention.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to trail his lips down my neck, sucking and biting like he’s trying to leave marks, like he wants everyone to know who I belong to.

His teeth scrape my skin, and I pant his name as my knees go weak.

My body throbs with every touch. “God,” I gasp, and he smirks against my skin, his breath hot and teasing.

“I love you, too,” he growls, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine. His hand slides under my shirt, calloused fingers skimming my ribs, and I arch into him, desperate for more. He’s not gentle, and I don’t want him to be. I want him to wreck me, to devour me whole.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and hungry, and I feel like prey caught in his crosshairs.

“I fell in love with you the second you introduced me to your car,” he says, his voice dripping with heat, and I laugh, but it’s breathless, shaky, because he’s already kissing me again, deeper, harder, like he’s trying to drain every thought from my head until all I can think about is him.

And fuck, it’s working.

When we go inside, he bends me over the kitchen island and makes good on every promise.

I fall asleep that night with his hand on my hip and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, the other shoe isn’t ever going to drop.

Not if I don’t let it.