THE FIXER

I stalk into the suite without a word to anyone, rolling my shirtsleeves up as I go. As if I’m about to take care of my errant wife with a good old-fashioned spanking.

Which… actually sounds fun.

Some of the weight that’s been crushing my chest since I thought she was dead lifts. I push open the door, then step inside and quickly close it when I see what’s waiting for me.

Sasha’s naked in the middle of the bed. Naked except for a pair of red stilettos. Apart from the shoes, she’s the spitting image of the picture she’d made six years ago when I’d found her in my yacht cabin, offering herself up to me on a platter.Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

I don’t like the scene. I didn’t like it then, and I like it even less now. It feels like another manipulation. But then I notice how unsure she looks. It’s that, more than anything, that breaks down my resistance.

I lean my back against the door and scrub a hand across my face. “What are you doing?”

She swallows. I don’t like to see her so nervous. “I left my heels on,” she offers. “For punishment.”

The fact that she’s thinking the same thing I was when I came in busts down even more resistance. But I don’t want to think with my dick here. I can’t let her fool me if this is another trick.

“No tricks,” she promises, reading my mind. Without trying to look sexy, she scoots off the edge of the bed and then shocks the hell out of me by dropping to her knees in front of me. Her fingers reach up like she’s going to unbutton my pants, but then seems to think better of it, and they flutter back down.

We’re not there yet.

She holds her hands together in her lap, instead, gazing up with those brilliant blue eyes. “I’m not playing you. I wasn’t then. I’m not now.” Tears shimmer and release, falling down her cheeks.

My resistance gets blown to smithereens.

“I’m here to give myself to you. Because my heart and body and soul belong to you. They always have.”

“Sasha,” I choke and drop to my knees in front of her. I lean my forehead against hers and cup the back of her head. “Sasha… you broke my heart,” I admit.

She holds back a sob, her bare belly fluttering. “You’re breaking mine.”

Aw, fuck.

“Maxim, I got out of the car before it blew up because my mom opened my door and told me to… I didn’t know their plan in advance. I wasn’t part of it. I don’t want to be dead to you-or divorced. Please believe me.”

“Sasha,” I croak. I’m broken now. Completely broken. Utterly demolished. Sasha tore me apart and left me gasping for breath on that sidewalk and in that hotel room.

I stroke her hair.

“My mom just cared about the money.” Her voice breaks.

“I know,” I admit.

“She tried to tell me you were planning to kill me, but she was the one with the plans.”

I thumb the tears away, but they keep falling.

“You’re the only person who ever cared about me. I can’t lose you, Maxim. Please.”

“You have me,” I say quickly before she begs more. “You’ll always have me. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

I claim her mouth with the kiss to end all kisses. Searingly passionate. Ravenous. Possessive. I need this woman like I need oxygen. “I’m sorry, sugar,” I rasp against her lips. “I should have trusted you. I should have trusted you back then, and I should have trusted you now. I just-”

“I know. Your mom did a number on you. You think women manipulate. I promise I’ll never trick you. Not ever.”

Hearing my deepest wound spoken aloud by my bride-hearing it understood, held in compassion, does something crazy to me.

All the devastation Sasha wrought on my heart suddenly seems worth it. To be remade this way. With trust between us. With this vulnerability and allowance.

“Sasha, forgive me,” I choke. Now I’m the one begging. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I know you. I should have hung onto that. I know the heart of you. Who you are beneath all the posturing. You’re sweet, and caring and kind. You lift and take care of everyone around you. And, caxapok, I consider taking care of you to be the biggest honor ever bestowed on me. My debt to Igor will never end.”

“Maxim.” Sasha breaks down completely, covering her mouth to hide her sobs.

“Come here, beautiful.” I help her up and kiss her again, pushing her onto her back on the bed.

I go slowly. Like tonight’s our wedding night, and she’s the virgin who waited all these years for me. I kiss from her jaw down her throat. Between her breasts. I squeeze one breast roughly as lust kicks impatiently through my veins, but I force myself to take my time, sucking one nipple into my mouth while I squeeze and massage the breast. “My beautiful wife.” I murmur, switching to the other nipple. I squeeze and pinch the first nipple as I suck the second one.

Sasha’s sobs have calmed, and she moans, thrusting her glorious breasts in the air. I kiss between her breasts and down her belly, flicking my tongue occasionally to make her gasp. I skip her sex, working around one hip and down her inner thigh.

Her legs and belly tremble.

“Let’s see that pretty pussy of yours.” I push her knees wide and just stare, drinking in the sight of her pink, glistening flesh. “You’re always so wet for me, aren’t you, sugar?” I barely brush my thumb over her clit, and she jerks and shivers.

“Y-yes.”

“You saved yourself for me.” I’m a fool, but I want to hear it. That she saved herself for me not because Igor told her to.

“Yes,” she admits. “I always wanted it to be you.”

I lick into her, parting her labia with my tongue, tracing around the inside.