Fix You

by Mari Carr

“Come here.” He beckoned.

  She returned to her previous position, legs open, straddling his. It was the same position, but not at all similar. With no clothing to hinder them, Rob became aware of so many more things. He felt the heat of her body. The air surrounding them was filled with the sweet scent of her arousal. She was wet. He could see the shiny proof coating her skin at the junction of her legs. Now it was his turn to lick his lips, the longing to taste her rumbling through him.

  Zoey stroked his cheek. “I like when you don’t shave. It’s sexy.”

  Her comment reminded him he hadn’t touched a razor in nearly three days. A quick glance at her kiss-swollen lips revealed the slightest trace of a beard burn around her mouth. If he was a gentleman, he’d pop upstairs and remove the prickly hair before they continued.

  Zoey moved closer until the heat and moisture of her pussy encapsulated his cock. Fuck it. He’d shave later.

  When she wiggled against his cock, he closed his eyes and counted to ten. If she kept doing that, he’d destroy that sexy image by coming right now. He grasped her ass and held her still.

  “Jesus, Zoey. We have to slow down or it’ll be over before we start.”

  She giggled. “I thought you rock stars were supposed to be sex gods or something.”

  He narrowed his eyes. She loved to tease him about the rumors surrounding musicians. Mainly because she knew as well as he did, he didn’t fit the mold. He preferred monogamy to one-night stands and could count his past serious girlfriends on one hand.

  Most of the women he’d dated had come to resent the time he spent on his music, the weekends when he played in the clubs with scantily clad women coming on to him. Eventually, the relationships ended because the woman got tired of sitting home alone weekend after weekend. The time apart fostered suspicions of unfaithfulness that festered until it didn’t matter what was real. The truth was he’d never cheated on any of his girlfriends.

  Unfortunately, reality wasn’t as strong as perception. Groupies flocked to his shows, throwing themselves—as well as various pieces of clothing—at him, and that fact was simply too difficult for his previous girlfriends to handle.

  “I haven’t had sex in nearly a year, you know that.”

  She nodded. “Since you and Jessica split.”

  Jessica had been his longest—and most tumultuous—relationship. Rob lost count of how many times they’d broken up and gotten back together. Now, after a year, he still couldn’t understand why he’d kept going back to her. Zoey claimed it was because Jessica was safe. His conscience considered her a girlfriend, so he could get laid on a fairly regular basis. Meanwhile, his common sense wouldn’t let the relationship grow into anything more serious. When Jessica suggested they get married, he’d proven Zoey’s theory right as he backpedaled—big time—claiming they had a good thing and they shouldn’t screw it up. Jessica read the writing the on the wall, broke things off and was married within six months to some guy from the gym she went to.

  “Why hasn’t there been another woman?” Zoey asked. “I know you must get propositioned nightly. I’ve witnessed at least a thousand of those dirty invitations myself.”

  He shrugged. He knew why, but he wasn’t sure how to tell Zoey the truth. There wasn’t a woman alive who could compare to her. How could he tell her that and have her believe the words came from his heart, that they weren’t based on fear or worse, pity?

  Rather than answer, he played the coward. Leaning forward, he drew his tongue along one of her nipples. Zoey gasped, her hands clenching his hair in a way that told him she liked what he was doing. He offered the same easy stroke to her other nipple.

  “God,” she whispered on a gasp. Her hips began gyrating again and he knew he was in trouble.

  Flipping positions, he laid her beneath him on the couch. Common sense said he should get her upstairs to his bed where they’d have room to move around, to do this right. Reality said there wasn’t time.

  Her legs opened, welcoming his hips between them. They continued to kiss as the heat around them grew heavier, hotter. Sweat formed at his temple. Lifting slightly, he nudged the opening of her pussy with the head of his cock. Zoey wrapped her ankles around his back, urging him forward.

  He froze. Condom.

  His gaze captured hers, but again, she didn’t need the words.

  She shook her head. “No. Nothing between us.”

  Zoey had been on birth control since she was sixteen and had snuck off to the free-health clinic with a couple of girlfriends. He’d given her shit for it at the time, wanting to know why she needed it. Jesus. What a blind fool he’d been. Even then, he’d been jealous, possessive of her. Zoey had asserted it was to make her periods easier, more regular. Given the fact she didn’t lose her virginity for another year, he believed her reasoning.

  He kissed her to stop himself from asking the question hovering on his lips. It took every bit of strength in him not to ask her if she was sure about this. About them.

  Rob didn’t want to give her an out. Fuck. He couldn’t. He needed her.

  He pushed in farther, burying his cock about an inch inside. Then, his damn conscience forced him to stop. He released her lips and pulled away so he could see her face. He had to know this was okay. That she wanted it too.

  Her gaze caught his and she smiled. Then, her legs tightened and her hips rose, taking him deeper. It was the only permission he needed. He released the bonds he’d clung to for far too long and thrust inside her in one hard, deep motion.

  He was buried to the hilt inside Zoey. Neither of them moved as the connection of their eyes never wavered. They simply stared. Soaked it up. For Rob, the moment was almost surreal.

  Everything changes now.

  That idea didn’t scare him. A big part of him was screaming It’s about time!

  Zoey broke the silence first. “I love you, Robbie.” Her eyes betrayed her, glimmered briefly with fear.

  Did she think he didn’t feel the same way? Wouldn’t offer the same heartfelt words? “I love you too, Zoey. More than I can say.”

  It wasn’t the first time they’d said the words, but for him, the meaning was so very different. Did she understand that? Realize the sentiment wasn’t one of friendship?

  Apparently it didn’t matter. Her face cleared and her smile grew wider. “You’re inside me.” The words were laced with genuine disbelief.

  He chuckled. “Damn. How did that happen?”

  “You must’ve slipped,” she teased.

  “Maybe I should try to get up.”

  She nodded. “Just so long as you fall a few more times.”

  Their laughter lasted only a second, only until Rob took her at her word, lifting his hips until he was barely inside her. Then he fell once more.

  They gasped, but they didn’t stop. Over and over, he moved into her until the heaviness in his balls grew almost painfully tight. This wasn’t going to last long. He reached down to rub her clit, refusing to spoil the moment by coming alone.

  The added pressure drove Zoey to the pinnacle fast. The rhythm of her hips, lifting to meet his, became erratic, harder. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and her eyes drifted closed.

  “Yes,” she hissed. “Oh my God. Robbie.”

  Her pussy clenched, the muscles contracting on his cock too tightly. He groaned, then gave himself up to the inevitable. Stars painted the black sky behind his closed eyelids as pulse after incredible pulse of come jetted out, filling her.

  The only word he could speak flew from his lips. “Zoey. Zoey. Zoey.”

  The strength in his arms gave out and he only just caught himself from collapsing onto her small frame. Shifting to the side, he turned until her back lay against his chest, spooning fashion.

  Neither of them spoke. For minutes, hours, days, they simply lay together, naked, sticky with sweat, complete.

  When the late-morning sun shone through the window, Zoey finally stirred. She rolled over to face him.

  “I suppose it’
s after.” Her voice seemed casual enough, but he couldn’t miss the slight tinge of nervousness there as well.

  They’d lain together long enough for his cock to realize once wasn’t enough. Jesus. A lifetime inside her wouldn’t be enough.

  Her eyes widened when his rejuvenating hard-on nudged her stomach. “Robbie—”

  “Can’t help it,” he teased. “I am a big rock star, you know. Insatiable.”

  “You don’t want to talk about this, do you?”

  He did and he didn’t. He knew where his heart lay, but Zoey was in the middle of some major shit right now. As his initial panic began to subside, he wondered if he was wrong to try to drag her into a relationship given all she was about to face. Hell, as far as timing went, his was probably about as bad as it got. He’d had twenty-five years to tell her how he felt about her and he chose the moment her life fell apart to lay it on her.

  “Can I just say I meant what I said last night? I’m not leaving you alone again, Zoey.” Ever.

  If he had any guts at all, he’d say the last word aloud, but he wasn’t sure that was what she needed to hear. She was going to spend the next few weeks making a shitload of decisions about her health, her medical treatment. How could he throw in another wrench, ask her to decide how she felt about him as well?

  “I’ve missed you,” she said. “So much.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’m home.”

  She glanced down at his cock. Damn thing was rock hard again. So erect no one would know he’d come less than an hour ago.

  “And what about him?” she asked, mischievously.

  Rob shifted them until he covered her once more. He reached down to touch her, pleased when he found her pussy wet. Pressing his cock inside her, he kissed her.

  “He’s home too.”

  Chapter Three

  Zoey stared at the menu, her eyes unable to process the words printed there. Her brain was filled with too many other words. Words like lumpectomy, stage two, T2, chemotherapy. And other words she couldn’t even pronounce. A long stream of strange syllables that made up the names of drugs that would supposedly kill her cancer and save her life.

  Robbie had been true to his word. He’d called the band and bailed out of the last three concert dates to stay home. They’d been together for a week. Together together. He’d spent every night since his return in her bed, filling the hours with amazing sex, laughter and—most surprising of all—deep, peaceful sleep. He made her forget about all the bad shit going on inside her body and for that alone, she would love him forever.

  They hadn’t discussed the nature of their new relationship in any detail, but Zoey didn’t care. She needed him and he was there. Whenever she tried to think about things on a deeper level, anxiety took over. As long as she kept things light and easy, took everything one day at a time, she could deal.

  At least, she had until today. Robbie had gone with her to the oncologist this afternoon. They’d spent days beforehand reading anything and everything they could about breast cancer, composing an obnoxiously long list of questions for the poor doctor. For over three hours, they discussed her options with the specialist, listening as he explained exactly what she had and what she was facing. She’d been poked and stuck by so many needles she felt like a human pincushion.

  She’d tried to take in all the information, but her mind kept hanging up on key words and phrases. Tumor. Surgery. Four months of chemo. Bi-weekly treatments. An eighty percent chance of surviving the next five years. Robbie had released a huge sigh of relief when the doctor shared that bit of information. She’d forced herself to smile, while wondering about the twenty percent. Had those women been grateful to hear the odds too, not knowing at the time they stood on the wrong side of the statistic?

  Her lumpectomy was scheduled for next week. Mercifully, her friends had found a way to make the looming surgery less frightening. When she told the “wine girls”, as Robbie called them, about her breast cancer, they’d found a way to make her laugh, and then surrounded her with more love and support than a single person could hold. They’d promised to throw a going away party for her tumor at this Thursday’s happy hour. Josie texted her this morning to say she’d composed a poem for the event entitled Good Riddance: Fuck You Cancer. Zoey was looking forward to hearing it.

  “Decided what you want to eat yet?”

  Zoey glanced up at Robbie’s question and realized the waiter was there. She shook her head. “Sorry, can I have another minute?”

  “No problem. I’ll come back.” The waiter turned to take the orders of patrons at a neighboring table.

  Robbie gave her an understanding smile. “You ready for tomorrow?”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. Her parents were arriving. She’d called them a few days earlier to break her news. After consoling her mother and patiently answering her father’s seven thousand questions, she’d agreed they could visit for a little while, but then she insisted that they go back to Florida. While she loved her parents more than anything, dealing with what she was facing was going to be hard enough without their constant coddling. Her mother would hover and nag her about her diet, resting, and God only knew what else. Then her father would hound the doctors mercilessly. She hoped they’d come for a visit, see how well she looked, and then go home to do their worrying from afar.

  “I love my parents.”

  Robbie laughed. “But Jim and Gladys are a bit more than you can handle right now, right?”

  She grinned. She always got a kick out of it when he called her parents by their first names. To their faces, he was very respectful, referring to them only as Mr. and Mrs. Emerson. “They are so much more than I can handle. The only thing that may save my sanity this week is the fact they’re staying with Aunt Jenny, so we’ll have a reprieve during the sleeping hours.”

  “Well, hopefully we’re not just sleeping during those hours.”

  She rolled her eyes as he winked at her suggestively. He was insatiable. Hell, she was insatiable. Having just discovered mind-blowing, set-the-sheets-on-fire sex with Robbie, she wasn’t willing to give it up for any reason. She wondered if that same passion would remain once the treatments began. She sort of expected it wouldn’t and that bothered her.

  “Hey. Are you okay?” Robbie asked.

  Leave it to Robbie to read her emotions so well. She tried to put aside her concerns. “Yeah. I just can’t seem to concentrate right now.”

  “I know what you mean. Jesus. That was a lot of shit to take in. I wrote down a ton of stuff, but I can’t help feeling there was a bunch more I missed.”

  Robbie had walked out of the doctor’s office into the dimming afternoon light and declared they were going out, said he felt like celebrating. When she’d pointed out that a celebration was premature, he’d taken her hand and given her the sweetest, sexiest kiss of her existence. Then he’d rested his forehead against hers and said, “We’re here. We’re together. We’re celebrating.”

  They’d gone home, showered, dolled themselves up and now, here they were, sitting in the Brew Pub, one of the nicest restaurants their tiny town had to offer.

  Robbie gestured to the menu. “What do you say we both get the biggest steaks on the menu and eat until we’re too full to get out of the chairs?”

  She smiled. “That sounds great.” She was perfectly aware of his scheme. The doctor had mentioned protein would be extremely important to her diet. Unfortunately, he also pointed out that the steroids she’d need to take prior to chemo would probably cause some weight gain. Robbie had made her laugh when he’d said, “Good. You’re too skinny.” She wasn’t, but her vanity appreciated his compliment.

  When the waiter came back, Robbie placed the order for both of them, adding loaded baked potatoes, Caesar salads and a bottle of wine to the list.

  “You weren’t kidding about gorging ourselves.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “I told you, darlin’, we’re celebrating.”

  Zoey rolled her eyes
at his exaggerated twang. “I knew Express Train was doing too many concerts in Texas. You’re starting to sound like a regular cowboy.”

  Robbie grinned and told her about the tour. They’d been so preoccupied with her illness—and their newfound joy in sex with each other—that they’d had precious little time to talk about his trip.

  All during dinner he entertained her with stories about life on the road, describing some of the interesting people he’d met and the amazing places he’d seen. As the waiter cleared the table and Robbie poured the last of the wine in her glass, she leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. She’d eaten every last bite of the delicious meal. She was full and tired and completely relaxed. She’d been wound tighter than a drum when they’d left the doctor’s office, but once again, Robbie had found the cure.

  She reached across the table and took his hand. “Sounds like the tour was a blast. I’m so happy for you, Robbie.”

  His smile faded a bit. “There were parts of the tour I loved, but there was even more that I didn’t like at all.”

  “Like what?”

  “We were in constant motion when we traveled around. There was no time to stop and enjoy anything. All those sights I mentioned were seen from the window of the bus. We ate takeout twenty-four-seven and trying to sleep while riding down the highway at seventy miles an hour wasn’t exactly restful. Chip snores something fierce. I swear to God it’s like a chainsaw was rumbling in my ear for hours on end.”

  Zoey laughed. “I guess that would get old.”

  “It all got old.”

  She tilted her head, confused by his last, softly spoken words. “I don’t understand.”

  Robbie leaned back. His gaze drifted to the dance floor where a few couples had partnered up for a slow song. “Dance with me.”

  She took her napkin off her lap, but made no move to rise. “I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations on that dancing promise has expired. You don’t have to—”

  “I want to dance with you.” Robbie stood as he spoke, reaching to grasp her hand and pull her up as well.