by Mari Carr
She shook it with glee, taunting him. Robbie raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, game over. We both got creamed, so let’s call it a tie and move on.”
“No.” She was really starting to enjoy that word. She squirted more of the sticky stuff into her palm as Robbie backed away.
“You don’t want to do that, Zoey. I will get even.”
She laughed. “Empty threat considering I have the can and you don’t.” As she spoke, she slapped her full hand against his chest, covering him with foam.
Robbie looked down at the mess, then grinned. “You asked for it.”
Before she could dodge around him and escape the room, he gripped her shoulders and pulled her toward him until her T-shirt was pressed against his chest. He pretended to use her as a towel, wiping the shaving cream off him onto her.
“Hey!” She wriggled in an attempt to break free. Robbie hadn’t lied about one thing. He was a hell of a lot stronger than she was. “Dammit,” she said as he released her. “That was a clean T-shirt.”
“You ready to cry uncle?”
She sucked at defeat. “Nope. The second you leave this house, I’m ripping that wallpaper down.”
“So be it.” Robbie stepped closer. She raised the can as a weapon, finger on the nozzle, ready to attack him if necessary.
Her defensive move didn’t sway him at all. Robbie walked right up to her, even as she covered him with more foam. Reaching out, he gripped her wrist, turning until some of the foam she was spraying hit her instead. Then he did the one thing guaranteed to give him the win. He tickled her.
Zoey struggled to get away from his playful fingers, but Robbie wouldn’t give way. She slipped on the shaving cream that now covered the floor, but he caught her, breaking her fall. Instead of hitting the ground, she found herself gently laid on it as he resumed tickling her.
She giggled, protested, screamed. She tried to pinch and punch him in her effort to break free.
“Say uncle.”
She shook her head and he laughed.
“Stubborn little thing. If I win, you owe me a promise.”
Zoey continued to wiggle, but it was soon obvious the only way she’d get loose was if she said the dreaded word. “Uncle.”
Just like that, Robbie released her. He stood and she was surprised—and more than a little amazed—that his towel had remained in place throughout their struggles.
He offered her a hand up and she accepted it.
“Promise me you won’t tear down this wallpaper.”
She bit her lower lip. It was the one vow she didn’t want to make.
“Promise, Zoey.”
“Fine,” she said at last, “but I’m going to make you another promise too. I swear to you, should you die before me, I will come home right after your funeral, with your body not even cold in the ground, and rip all this shit down. Every last bit of it.”
He grinned, then bent to kiss her on the cheek. He rarely offered her affection beyond hugs and they typically sealed their vows with handshakes.
She frowned when he pulled back only an inch or so from her and said, “Deal. Nothing will be done in this bathroom until the day I die.”
The stubborn man had taken that damn vow to heart. The wallpaper in the bathroom was well beyond its years and they both knew it. Even so, the fucking faded purple flowers remained.
She glanced to her side to find Robbie staring at her curiously.
“You’re smiling. What are you thinking about?”
She took his hand. “Nothing much. Silly stuff.”
“You feel like breakfast?”
She considered his question and realized she did. Her stomach wasn’t queasy today and she was actually hungry. “Yeah, I do.”
They sat up together. Robbie rose from the bed and pulled on a pair of boxers. She didn’t bother to look away from his tight ass. They’d been sleeping together for over two months and she still felt the desire to pinch herself every morning she woke up to find him naked in her bed.
Robbie wiggled his eyebrows when he caught her looking, but his face betrayed another, darker emotion as he glanced at something behind her. Turning, Zoey noticed hair on her pillow. A lot of hair.
It had been falling out since the first treatment, getting thinner with each passing day. The oncologist had said she would lose some this round, but probably not all of it. Judging by the pile of hair on her pillow, she’d say she and her doctor had a different definition of some.
She lifted her hand, dreading what she knew she would feel. Each day as more hair fell out, she looked sicker. “I’m shaving it.”
Robbie didn’t reply immediately. It was something they’d discussed at length the first night she noticed it was falling out. The wine girls had given her a gift certificate to a local wig shop shortly after she told them about her diagnosis and treatment plan. She’d cried when she’d opened the get well card and found the certificate. At the time, she’d blamed the tears on their thoughtfulness, but the vain woman inside knew she was mourning the inevitable moment when she’d have to use the wig.
Robbie cleared his throat. “The doctor said—”
“I know what he said, but it looks really bad. And he said the next chemo cocktail would definitely finish the job. It’s time to stop trying to save something that’s not going to last. I can’t keep waking up to this hair on my pillow. There are too many things about this whole deal I can’t control. I need this part to be on my own terms.”
“Fine. Then let’s do it.”
She shook her head. “No. If you’ll just give me your clippers, I can do it on my own. You don’t have to—”
“There’s no way you’re doing this alone, Zoey. I said we were in this together and I meant it.”
She stared at his determined, concerned, beautiful face, then said, “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Robbie went to his bedroom to grab the hair clippers from his closet. He rarely used them, opting to get his haircuts done professionally. She wasn’t even sure why he owned the clippers, but he’d had them for years.
She held out her hand when he returned.
Robbie shook his head.
She frowned. “I can do it if you show me how they work.”
“Nope. I’ll do it.”
She felt like she should argue the point, but the truth was she was relieved by his offer. “Okay, that’s cool. With my numb fingers, I’d probably miss my head and shave off my eyebrows.”
Robbie took the lid off the plastic carrying case and pointed to the attachments. “Usually you decide what length you’re going for, snap one of these on and then glide the thing along your scalp.”
She nodded. “Are you going to use an attachment for me?”
“We could start that way if you want.”
She glanced down at the clippers. “No. There’s no point in messing around. Let’s just get this over with.”
Zoey didn’t bother to take one last look in the mirror. She was afraid she’d stop him if she did. Instead she turned her back to her reflection, leaned against the sink and faced Robbie.
“Ready?” he asked.
She swallowed hard. She’d never been less ready for anything in her life. “Sure.” She held Robbie’s gaze right up until he turned the clippers on. The second she heard the buzzing, she closed her eyes tightly.
She didn’t feel anything for a few seconds, then she heard Robbie say, “Oops.”
Her eyes flew open and she gasped. “What the hell have you done?”
Robbie had taken out a huge chunk of hair right down the center of his head. She blinked rapidly, trying to take in his goofy grin and reverse Mohawk.
“Robbie. Your hair.” She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.
“It’s only hair, Zoey.”
Laughter mixed with the tears that streamed down her face. “Yes, but it’s your hair. I love it.”
“Do you love me less without it?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Don’t be silly.”
Robbie lifted the long dark strands away and tossed them into the trash can. “Want to look?”
“Now?”
Robbie looked completely ridiculous and she imagined she looked the same.
His grin grew. “Seems a shame for you to miss it. When do you think you’ll ever have a reverse Mohawk again?”
“Fine.” She took a deep breath and turned to face herself in the mirror.
She covered her mouth with her hand, then forced herself to reach up and touch the bald spot. “It feels weird.”
Robbie gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Wait here.”
Where the hell else would she go? He hadn’t finished the job. Hell, he’d barely started. She had one damn bald stripe running from the center of her forehead to the crown. She looked ridiculous.
Robbie returned with his phone and she knew instantly what he planned. “Oh, hell no.”
“Come on. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal. We need to mark this momentous occasion with photos.”
“Robbie Granger, I will kill you if you snap a picture of me looking like this.”
“It’s just for us, Zoey. Just for fun.”
She considered his words. This wasn’t supposed to be fun. She glanced at their reflections again and laughed. Dammit. He made it impossible for her to feel sorry for herself. “Fine. Take the picture, but if you show anyone else, I will retaliate in ways you don’t even want to imagine.”
They posed in the mirror, making funny faces as Robbie snapped the shot. Then he picked up the clippers and took another swipe at his hair. He shaved two lines on each side of his head, above his ears, and then he did the same to her. After each new ’do, they posed for a picture, laughing and making up ridiculous names for the styles, including Zoey’s personal favorite, the bald mullet.
Finally, Robbie removed the last piece of hair from her head and put the clippers away. She stared at her reflection for a very long time trying to get used to this new person. “I guess it could be worse,” she said at last. “At least I don’t have a lumpy head like you.”
Robbie burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Bullshit. There’s not a lump on my noggin. Hell, I think I’m rocking this look. May keep it like this forever.”
“Don’t you dare. I love your hair.”
He shrugged. His nonchalant attitude toward being bald was working its way into her soul, easing her own fears. “I’ll grow it back eventually.”
His comment resonated with her and she realized he would be bald for as long as she was. He hadn’t admitted as much, but she still knew. It was the greatest gift anyone had ever given her.
He scratched his chest. “I’m itchy. What do you say we pop in the shower and wash the stray bits of hair off?”
She followed him into the shower, both of them taking turns soaping and washing each other. They kissed, touched and explored. Robbie cradled her bare scalp, nuzzling against her. “You look hot this way.”
“Liar,” she whispered, more grateful for his compliment than she wanted to admit.
“I’m serious. It’s sort of a shame we bought that wig. You have the perfect face to pull this off. Big soulful blue eyes, high cheekbones. Your hair was hiding how beautiful you really are.”
Zoey tried to respond, but couldn’t find the words. She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat, perfectly aware she had more than made up for a lifetime of no tears during the last few weeks. Her emotions had been on system overload, fluctuating between fear and sadness as well as love and the purest, most genuine happiness she’d ever experienced.
Rather than speak, she leaned closer, letting her kisses prove to him how much he meant to her. She couldn’t imagine her days if he weren’t with her. She didn’t even want to think about it.
Robbie’s cock brushed against her stomach. Though they slept together every night, she’d been too fatigued, too nauseous to do more than sleep.
“Let’s go back to bed,” she whispered against his lips.
Robbie turned around and shut off the water. “Hell yeah.”
They dried off hastily, then Zoey grasped Robbie’s hand and led him to her room. Her gaze landed on her pillow, still covered with the last strands of her hair. Robbie must’ve realized what caught her eye. He picked up her pillow and tossed it to the floor. “Get on your hands and knees.”
She crawled to the middle of the bed and assumed the position he’d suggested. She’d never imagined Robbie would be so dominant in bed. Throughout their friendship, he’d always been the easygoing, affable one, always content to let her take charge of their activities, where they ate, who they hung out with. That same nature didn’t carry over to the bedroom. She glanced over her shoulder and felt herself go wet at the undeniable hunger in his eyes.
He found her desirable. She didn’t have a strand of hair on her head and if the size of his cock was anything to go by, she’d say he wanted her more than ever.
Thank God.
Robbie followed her on to the bed, pushing her knees farther apart. He ran his finger along her wet slit and she shuddered. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”
She pressed her chest lower to the bed, her elbows bent. She was wide open, his for the taking. “I want you so bad, Robbie.”
She expected him to enter her and she was certainly more than ready for him, but she should have learned by now. Robbie never did anything she expected in bed. He was far more adventurous than she would have imagined. He began to stroke her, taking time to play with her clit, applying just the right pressure until she squirmed beneath him.
“Please,” she begged.
The word was always lost on him. He was far too fond of foreplay. Not that she was complaining. Most of his touches were meant to drive her wild, drive her to the peak and beyond. With past lovers, she’d been lucky to have one orgasm in a night. Robbie wasn’t satisfied with that meager number.
Finally, he dipped two fingers deep inside her pussy. She moaned with relief, realizing even then her body wouldn’t be fully satisfied until it was his cock filling her.
He wasn’t exactly gentle. She didn’t want him to be. His rough touch fueled the need in her to take and be taken. She was tired of being treated like a sick person.
Robbie’s pace grew, his fingers slamming in harder. She coaxed him to continue, with words and motions that proved how much she loved what he was doing to her.
“Fuck me, Robbie. Please. Take me hard. Make me feel alive.”
His fingers left her, replaced at once by his cock.
She hissed when he entered her in one powerful thrust that sent her to oblivion and beyond. Her climax took her by surprise, but it didn’t halt Robbie’s actions. He pushed into her over and over again as electrical sparks tingled along her spine, shimmering over her sensitive skin until she wondered if she was twinkling like a Christmas tree.
Still Robbie fucked her. Plowing deep. Never giving her body a chance to come down, to recover. Lightning flashed behind her eyelids and her voice was raw from crying out. She couldn’t tell if her body was giving into multiple orgasms or if she was in the midst of the longest climax in history. It didn’t matter. It felt too damn good.
Robbie’s hands tightened on her hips, his tell. He was close. Zoey clenched the sheets beneath her, looking for purchase as she shoved against Robbie, meeting him blow for blow.
The added pressure set him off like a soda can that had been shaken too hard. He exploded inside her, a stream of loving curses flowing from his lips.
“Fucking, Jesus. God, Zoey. You kill me, baby. So fucking hot.”
She collapsed onto her stomach, quivering as she pulled away from Robbie’s cock. Her pussy was in overdrive, clenching against the air. Her foolish body couldn’t, wouldn’t come down.
Robbie fell to the mattress next to her, spooning her from behind. They were sweaty, sticky and panting heavily
. So much for that shower.
“Holy shit, Zoey.”
She giggled. “I didn’t realize you had such a kink for bald girls. If I’d known, I would have shaved all my hair off ages ago.”
The words slipped out unbidden. Zoey winced, glad Robbie couldn’t see her face. She hadn’t meant to reveal so much. While they were living like a couple in a romantic relationship, neither of them mentioned the future and Zoey sure as hell hadn’t revealed the fact her feelings for him had changed a long time ago.
Robbie kissed the back of her head. “I think it’s safe to say all my kinks begin and end with you.”
She smiled, but his admission hadn’t answered the questions still lingering in her heart.
Why had Robbie changed the status quo and how long would it stay this way?
Chapter Seven
Rob stood outside the front door to the townhouse and took a deep breath. He’d spent most of the day sorting out his future. A future he hadn’t told Zoey about. Hadn’t even alluded to.
He’d left the band.
Jesus. I left Express Train.
Hours after the fact, the idea still seemed too absurd, too incredible.
These past four months at home with Zoey had solidified in his mind how much he wanted to stay here. She had just two more treatments left. They were beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
They’d fallen into a relatively normal routine. Well, at least as normal as could be. After so many treatments, it was easier to predict Zoey’s good and bad days. Typically she was exhausted the first few days after a treatment. Then she’d find her second wind for about a week and a half until the next treatment rolled along and knocked her down again. As a result, they’d set up their schedule for one week of easy, at-home activities alternated by weeks where they’d go shopping or dancing or for long drives. While the set-up was unconventional, one thing was undeniable. No matter what he did or where he went, he wanted Zoey with him.
He’d written several new songs and his band-mates had been anxious to start laying down some tracks. For the past couple weeks, he’d allowed himself to be dragged back into the lifestyle he’d lived for years, but hitting the studio again signaled that soon, Express Train would be ready to hit the road once more, promoting their new music.