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The drip had been taunting you for days. It wasn’t even a dramatic leak — just a steady drip-drip-drip that echoed through your kitchen like a slow torture. You tried ignoring it, but after catching yourself fantasizing about hurling the entire sink out the window, you caved.
Tommy promised to “send someone by.” Which apparently translated to Joel Miller showing up on your doorstep, toolbox dangling from one hand, his expression already saying don’t ask me how I got roped into this.
You leaned on the doorframe, fighting a smile. “Joel Miller.”
He gave you a flat look. “Don’t start.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He grunted, brushing past you into the kitchen, already crouching down at the cabinets. His knees popped audibly as he lowered himself, and he muttered a quiet, “Son of a bitch,” before pulling the toolbox open.
You sat yourself at the table, chin in your hand, openly watching him. He didn’t exactly look like a professional plumber — just a man with strong hands, a good tool set, and the stubborn confidence of someone who refused to let a leaky pipe beat him. His flannel stretched tight across his shoulders as he reached under the sink, and you found yourself staring more than you meant to.
Joel’s voice floated out, muffled by cabinet wood. “You’re starin’.”
“Am not.”
“Uh-huh.” Metal clanked as he tightened something. “Ain’t gotta see you to know it.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. He made a low, satisfied sound when the wrench gave, and you realized you were leaning forward on your elbows like this was the most interesting thing you’d seen all week.
After a while he pushed himself upright, wiping his hands on a rag. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his temple, curls plastered damp. “Should be fine now. Washer was cracked. Replaced it.”
“Wow,” you said, leaning back in mock awe. “My hero.”
Joel gave you one of his side-eye looks, halfway between amusement and exasperation. “It’s a sink.”
“Don’t undersell yourself,” you said solemnly. “You saved me from catastrophic flooding, mold infestation, certain death. That’s at least worth a medal. Maybe two.”
He huffed a laugh despite himself, shaking his head.
You tilted yours, lips curving. “So tell me, Joel. How can I ever repay you?”
The rag froze in his hands. He blinked at you like you’d just spoken another language. “What?”
“Repay you,” you repeated, as innocently as you could manage. “You know. My debt of gratitude. Eternal servitude. Or cookies.”
Joel’s brows drew together, his mouth tugging like he didn’t know whether to frown or laugh. “You’re jokin’.”
“Am I?”
The silence stretched just long enough to make you bite back a grin. His ears were going pink.
Joel gave a soft snort, head ducked. He looked tired in that permanent way of his, hair damp at the temples, flannel rumpled from crouching. For whatever reason, the sight of him standing there in your space, having fixed something for you, made a warmth rise in your chest you hadn’t expected.
Before you thought better of it, you leaned up and kissed his cheek.
Just a quick brush of lips against rough stubble. Nothing meant to linger. The second it happened, you realized you’d crossed a line.
Heat rushed to your face as you drew back, wide-eyed. “Oh my god. I’m sorry. That was—” You waved a hand helplessly. “I don’t even know why I did that.”
Joel froze like someone had hit pause on him. The rag hung limp in his fist, his mouth slightlyy open.
“I wasn’t—it wasn’t, like—” you stammered, scrambling. “It was supposed to be… I don’t know. Like a thank you. Not—”
Joel’s brow ticked, his eyes still locked on yours. “Not what?”
You wanted the floorboards to swallow you whole. “Not… flirting. Or… whatever it looked like.”
His silence stretched. His jaw shifted under the beard, like he was fighting a smile.
“Didn’t feel like just a thank you,” he said finally, voice low and a little hoarse.
Your stomach flipped. “Joel.”
“What?” His lips twitched, his tone almost teasing now. “A man knows when he’s been kissed. That was no handshake.”
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Please stop talking.”
He chuckled — actually chuckled — and gently tugged one of your hands away from your face. His eyes were warmer now, still incredulous but not mocking. “Ain’t sayin’ I minded.”
That made you look at him, startled. “You didn’t?”
“Hell no,” Joel said, shaking his head once, as if even the suggestion was absurd. “Just didn’t expect it, s’all.”
Your pulse was hammering. You realized he was still holding your wrist, his thumb brushing the inside of it absently.
For a beat neither of you spoke. Then you tried to defuse the tension the only way you knew how: with humor. “So what now? Do I owe you dinner, or…”
Joel gave a short laugh, shaking his head again, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’re a damn menace,” he muttered, but he was smiling — small, reluctant, but there.
“Maybe.” You shrugged, grinning. “But you kissed back, didn’t you?”
That stopped him cold. His eyes narrowed, heat creeping in around the edges. “…Not yet.”
The words landed like a spark in dry grass.
Joel dropped the rag on the counter, stepped into your space, and kissed you for real — mouth hot and sure, pulling you tight against his chest like he’d been holding back for years.
You gasped into him, clinging to the front of his flannel, laughter spilling out between kisses. “Joel—”
“Don’t start,” he growled, kissing you harder, and you felt your back hit the counter as his hands gripped your waist, broad and unyielding.
Joel kissed you like he was starving, but the second he pulled back, his face shifted — like the reality of what he’d just done had finally caught up.
“Christ,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his beard. “This is—hell, this is a bad idea.”
You were still grinning, flushed and panting. “Probably. But you kissed me back.”
He gave you a look, somewhere between exasperation and arousal. “You kissed me first.”
“On the cheek!” you protested, trying not to laugh. “That doesn’t count!”
Joel barked out a short laugh, shaking his head, and for a moment he looked almost younger. “Darlin’, it damn sure counts when you look at me like that after.”
Heat shot up your neck. “Like what?”
“Like you want me to lay you down on this kitchen floor.”
You gaped at him, scandalized — which only made him smirk harder. “You did not just say that.”
“I did.” He shrugged, stepping closer, crowding you against the counter again. “Don’t mean I will. This floor’s hard as hell. Counter’s higher.”
“Joel!” Your laugh broke out too loud, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide, as if someone might’ve overheard.
He chuckled low, pleased with himself, his hand sliding slow up your thigh. “What? Don’t act so shocked. You started this.”
“I did not—”
“You did,” he cut in, grinning now. “And you’re still smilin’, so don’t you try and tell me otherwise.”
You were smiling. You couldn’t stop. Every inch of you was buzzing, half with nerves, half with want.
Joel’s palm flattened against your stomach, the warmth bleeding through the thin fabric of your shirt. His touch wasn’t even lewd — just steady, claiming — but it made your breath hitch all the same.
His eyes flicked up, catching that reaction, and his smile faltered into something heavier. He exhaled hard, jaw tightening. “Goddamn it.”
“What?” you whispered.
“You’re gonna kill me.” His thumb stroked idly along your ribcage, rough and tender all at once. “Don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me.”
You swallowed, trying for lightness even as your pulse thundered. “Guess I’m a menace after all.”
Joel’s laugh was soft, almost pained, but his body didn’t move away. If anything, he pressed closer, his hips brushing yours. The hard line beneath his jeans left no room for doubt.
You glanced down, then back up at him, eyebrows raised. “For someone complaining, you don’t seem very put out.”
He groaned into his palm, rubbing his face like he was trying to wipe the moment away. “Lord help me,” he muttered.
You reached for the collar of his flannel, tugging him back down. “Maybe you don’t need help.”
Joel’s hand slapped against the counter beside your hip with a loud thunk, making you jump and laugh again. “You’re drivin’ me crazy,” he growled, but his mouth was already on yours, hot and eager.
The kiss turned messy fast — teeth clashing, your giggles mixing with his muttered curses as his hands dragged at your hips like he couldn’t figure out where to put them first.
When he finally broke away, both of you breathless, his forehead pressed to yours, he said in a low rasp: “You’re sure you want this?”
“Yes,” you gasped, too fast, too certain. Then, softer: “I’m sure.”
Joel groaned, like that answer undid whatever scrap of restraint he had left.
And then he bent, hooked his hands under your thighs, and lifted you like you weighed nothing, setting you down on the counter with a grunt.
The counter gave a protesting creak as Joel set you down, his big hands still bracketing your thighs. He leaned back a little, chest rising and falling like he was trying to get his bearings.
“Christ,” he muttered, rubbing his lower back with one hand. “Ain’t built for haulin’ people around anymore.”
You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand. “Oh my god, did you just throw your back out mid-seduction?”
His head snapped up, eyes narrowing, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying,” you teased, grinning down at him. “It would really kill the mood if I had to go fetch Tommy because you keeled over trying to lift me.”
Joel groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Why do I even—” He broke off, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” you pointed out sweetly, tugging him closer with your heels against the backs of his thighs, “you’re still here.”
That earned you a low laugh, grudging but real. “Yeah. Guess I am.”
He kissed you again, quick and hard, like punctuation — enough talk. His hands slid up your sides, rough palms dragging over your ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. You gasped into his mouth, your laughter melting into something softer, needier.
Joel pulled back just far enough to look at you — flushed, hair mussed, lips kiss-swollen. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek almost absently.
“You’re trouble,” he said, voice low, but the warmth in his eyes undercut it.
“Big trouble,” you agreed with a grin, leaning into his touch.
He huffed out a laugh, then bent to kiss you again, slower this time.
Joel’s fingers fumbled clumsily at his own belt, cursing under his breath when the leather slipped through the buckle. His hands were big, sure, but clearly not built for finesse under pressure — at least not this kind.
You giggled against his mouth, sliding your hand down to cover his. “Here. Let me.”
He froze, watching as your fingers worked the belt with ease, tugging the strap free and popping the button of his jeans in quick succession.
“Christ,” he muttered, voice rough. “Got no shame, do you?”
You looked up at him through your lashes, wicked smile tugging your lips. “Why would I? I’m already wet for you.”
The words landed like a punch. Joel’s eyes went wide, his face flushing a shade you’d never seen on him. Color crept all the way up to his ears.
You gasped, delighted. “Oh my god. Joel Miller, are you actually blushing?”
“Shut up,” he growled immediately, but the heat in his face betrayed him.
“No, no, this is amazing,” you teased, laughing as your fingers toyed with the zipper of his jeans. “Mr. Grumpy Fix-Your-Sink can kill clickers with his bare hands, but one dirty sentence and suddenly he’s—”
“Darlin’,” Joel cut in, voice low and warning, “you keep talkin’, I’ll give you somethin’ to blush about.”
Your laugh turned breathless at the grit in his tone. “Promises, promises.”
Joel shook his head like he couldn’t believe you, but his hands were already sliding under your thighs again, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter as your zipper came down.
Joel’s zipper rasped down under your hand, denim parting enough for you to slip your fingers inside. He was already hard, thick and heavy under your touch, and the sound he made when you brushed him through his briefs was wrecked — a hoarse, broken groan that made you grin.
“Not so shy anymore, huh?” you teased.
He growled, catching your wrist and pulling your hand out. “You’re gonna kill me, I swear.”
“Worth it,” you shot back, but then he was tugging your panties aside, and the joke dissolved into a sharp gasp.
Joel pressed forward, the blunt head of his cock nudging against you, and even that small shift had your whole body jerking.
“Jesus,” he muttered, breath catching. “You’re soaked.”
“Told you,” you said, breathless but smug.
His face flushed darker, and for a second you thought he might stop again, but then he pushed — slow, steady, stretching you open until you thought you’d split apart.
“Oh, fuck—” Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging through flannel as inch by inch he filled you, deeper and deeper, until finally his hips were flush with the counter, the hard weight of him seated all the way inside.
He stilled. You froze too, eyes wide, the sheer stretch making your body clench hard, helpless. The fullness was unbearable, delicious, everything at once. A sharp cry tore out of you before you could stop it.
Joel’s eyes snapped up to yours. “Sweetheart?”
You were already coming — sudden, shocking, your cunt fluttering around him in wild spasms, clenching tight as your thighs shook against his hips. The orgasm tore through you raw, nothing but the fullness of him holding you open, keeping you pinned.
“Jesus Christ,” Joel rasped, his face twisting. His hands clamped down on your thighs like he was hanging on for dear life. “You—you’re fuckin’—already?”
You buried your face against his neck, breathless laughter spilling out between gasps. “I can’t help it—oh my god, Joel—”
He groaned, forehead pressing to yours, his own restraint fraying as your body kept pulsing around him. “Lord above, you’re squeezin’ the life outta me.”
“Don’t—don’t you dare laugh at me,” you gasped, still trembling through the aftershocks.
“Laugh?” Joel let out a low, incredulous chuckle against your skin. “Darlin’, that’s the best goddamn review I ever got.”
You swatted at his shoulder, grinning even as you shook. “Shut up.”
“Can’t,” he rasped, finally pulling back just an inch before driving into you again, slow and devastating. “Not when you’re makin’ noises like that.”
The counter creaked beneath you as he started to move, deep and steady, every thrust dragging a moan out of you despite the laughter still bubbling between.
Joel’s thrusts picked up, clumsy at first, like he couldn’t decide between holding back or giving in. His jeans were still half-on, his flannel brushing your skin, and the contrast only made you squirm more.
Every push of his cock had you moaning, babbling nonsense into his mouth. “God—Joel—fuck—you feel so good, I can’t—oh my god—”
“You don’t ever shut up, do you?” he groaned, but his voice was ruined, his forehead pressed tight to yours, his breath hot and ragged.
“I can’t,” you gasped, clutching at his shoulders like you could anchor yourself. “Feels too good—oh, shit, Joel—”
The next thrust hit deep and sudden, and you broke with a sharp cry, body spasming as slick gushed out of you, soaking his jeans, dripping down your thighs. You jolted, half laughing, half sobbing. “Oh my god—I’m sorry—”
Joel groaned, the sound wrecked and guttural. “Jesus Christ, baby. Look at that.” He rocked into you again, slower this time, his big hands gripping your hips like he wanted to hold you open and watch you fall apart.
“Don’t—don’t look,” you whimpered, trying to curl in on yourself, but he caught your face, thumb on your cheek, dragging you back to him.
“Don’t you hide from me,” he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes burning into yours. “You’re perfect. You hear me? Fuckin’ perfect.”
You shook beneath him, overwhelmed, every nerve buzzing as his thrusts grew shorter, sharper. His body trembled against yours, the strain in his arms and shoulders clear as he chased his own edge.
“Joel—” you gasped, voice breaking.
“Yeah,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut, forehead still pressed to yours. “Yeah, baby—I’m right there—”
With a final, guttural sound, Joel pulled back just enough, grinding against your slick thighs. Hot spurts painted your skin as he came, breath stuttering, hips jerking once, twice, before he slumped forward, panting hard.
His forehead stayed pressed to yours, sweat dampening your hairline, his chest heaving against your bare skin.
You were both wrecked, breathless, still clinging to each other on the kitchen counter, laughing weakly at the sheer mess of it.
Joel huffed a laugh into your cheek, voice rough. “Well. Hell of a way to get paid.”
For a while neither of you moved. Joel leaned heavy against you, forehead pressed to yours, both of you panting in the quiet kitchen. The only sound was the faint drip of the faucet he’d just fixed, like the house itself was laughing at you.
Finally you broke the silence with a weak laugh. “I think you just undid all your plumbing work.”
Joel groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Don’t remind me.”
You giggled, boneless against him, your thighs sticky and damp where his spend was cooling. He was still holding you on the counter like he wasn’t sure he could let go.
“Joel,” you murmured, brushing a hand over the damp curls at his temple. “You’re crushing me.”
He huffed out a breath but didn’t move right away. “Give me a second. Ain’t twenty anymore.”
You snorted. “Oh my god. We almost just had sex-related workplace injury.”
That earned you a laugh, low and reluctant, rumbling in his chest. He finally pushed back enough to look at you, cheeks still flushed, beard damp with sweat. “You’re somethin’ else.”
“Something good?” you asked, playful but with a tiny edge of uncertainty.
Joel’s eyes softened. He lifted one big hand, brushed his thumb across your cheek. “Best damn trouble I ever got myself into.”
You smiled so wide it hurt, and for a second the kitchen didn’t feel like a kitchen anymore — it felt like something safer, something new.
Then Joel grimaced, glancing down at the mess between you. “Christ, we’re a disaster.”
You laughed so hard your stomach ached. “Hey, you started it.”
“I started it?” He arched a brow, reaching for the rag he’d abandoned earlier. “You kissed me.”
“On the cheek!”
“Mm-hm.” He shook his head, smirking as he knelt to swipe at the inside of your thighs, careful and surprisingly gentle. “You’re lucky I don’t start chargin’ for repairs.”
You swatted him with a laugh, tugging the rag from his hands. “Consider this your tip.”
Joel snorted, tucking himself back into his jeans. When he straightened again, he leaned down, kissed your mouth softer this time, no urgency, no fumbling. Just a warm press that made your chest flutter.
When he pulled back, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Next time you need a sink fixed,” he murmured, “call Tommy again. Let him send me.”
You grinned, looping your arms around his neck. “Deal.”