“Oh, Ange. Come here, baby.”
Angie was so ready to be touched by Vic, her body continuing to register her tense wanting. She’d been driven wild after making love to Vic, had almost come a couple of times, but it seemed important to save herself for Vic’s touch.
She hadn’t removed her own bra and underwear, so focused had she been on Vic’s pleasure, but now Vic slowly began to peel the undergarments away, kissing the newly exposed skin and sending Angie into a new stratosphere of wanting. She slammed her eyes shut as Vic’s mouth found her nipple, and oh! It was a thousand times better than the times she’d fantasized about Vic doing this to her. She quivered but tried to remain still as Vic’s hands cupped her breasts, stroking their soft undersides. “Vic, you’re so good at this.”
“I’m only good because it’s you, sweetie. All you.”
Angie opened her eyes to lock into Vic’s, which were ornamented with gold and green and gray specks. They were wide and moist and full of desire. And love. Definitely love.
“I love you, sweetheart,” Angie whispered, choked up at the thought that finally she’d found what she’d wanted all her life but never allowed herself to hope for, because she never accepted or expected that she was worthy of such perfection, of such a gift. She was ready to take what she wanted, what she needed, to make herself whole.
“I love you too, darling. So much.”
Vic kissed her way further south, tickling Angie’s abdomen with her lips, her tongue. By the time she got to the hollow of her hip, Angie’s body came alive with an abrupt jolt. She couldn’t wait much longer; she was so ready, so wet. She pushed her hands into Vic’s hair, silently celebrated as Vic took the hint and took her into her mouth. Gently at first, way too gently, but then she was plundering Angie with hard strokes, setting her flesh on fire. And Angie was gone, gone to a place where nothing else existed except the purest of pleasures and all of it immersed in the fine mist of unconditional love and reverent attraction. It was an explosive combination, her feelings for Vic and the physical sensations this woman unleashed in her. It wasn’t long before she clenched and called out Vic’s name, tossing her head back as her body convulsed in wave after wave of pleasure.
When Vic crawled into her arms, Angie was wrung out, exhausted but in the best possible way.
“Are you all right?” There was worry in Vic’s voice. “Did I hurt you at all? Is your incision—”
“Whoa, no need to play doctor on me. Oh wait, what am I saying?” Angie growled playfully. “You can play doctor with me anytime you want.”
Vic kissed her on the mouth. “I think I just gave you a pretty good exam, but I may have to do another one. Just to be sure.”
“Mmm, I do like doctors who are thorough.”
Vic gave her a scolding look. “Hopefully just this doctor.”
“No need to ever worry about that, sweetheart.” Angie’s voice lost its playfulness. She hadn’t wanted to bring Brooke and Karen into the bedroom with them. Ever. But it was too late now. “Vic.” Damn. An unexpected roughness crept into her voice as the pain and humiliation of Brooke’s betrayal hit her with fresh force. She’d only let Brooke’s actions hurt her to a certain extent because, as she’d come to realize after a long and painful self-examination, she’d let Brooke be the bad guy. Let Brooke blow up their relationship because she’d not had the guts to. But this…this was different. A betrayal by Vic would absolutely destroy her. She’d never recover if she lost Vic.
Vic wound her fingers through a strand of Angie’s hair. “Are you all right? You look sad, and I don’t want you to be sad. Not tonight.”
“Sorry, I’m not. Sad I mean. I’m happy, Vic. Happier than I’ve ever been in my life. And you need to know that I’ll never intentionally do anything to hurt you. I might fuck up once in a while, but I’ll never disrespect you. I’ll never not love you and I’ll never do anything to put our relationship in jeopardy.”
There was not a trace of doubt in Vic’s smile. “I believe you. And I’ll never do anything to hurt you, to hurt us, either.” Thickly, she said, “We’re not them.”
“No. We’re not.” Angie pulled Vic against her, wrapped her arm around her. “Do you think we have enough strength to make our way to your bed? I think you might have worn me out.”
“If we help each other, I’m sure we can manage. And it’s kind of nice to know that I was good enough to wear you out.”
“Oh, trust me, you were good. But when I get my strength back, watch out.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Nope. More like a promise.”
Vic laughed, kissed Angie’s cheek. “I love you, Angie. Now, take me to bed.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Vic rolled over, carefully opened one eye to check the bedside clock, then bolted upright. “Shit,” she mumbled, tossing blankets aside and scrambling for her robe.
“Wait,” Angie said in a slow, sexy voice. She grabbed Vic’s wrist and hauled her back onto the bed, prompting Vic to squeal in delight. “I hope you don’t think you can get away that easily after what I did to you last night.”
“Trust me, I’d like nothing better than to stay here all day with you. But we—”
“But nothing, darling.” Angie kissed her as deep and as languid as a lazy canyon river, her mouth instantly activating the fierce arousal to which Vic was defenseless.
Vic didn’t find her voice again until Angie’s lips had drifted to her throat and her hands began to wander over her terrycloth robe. “Trust me, there’s nothing I’d like more, but we have somewhere to be in less than an hour.”
Angie raised her head. “We do? Oh crap, not another doctor appointment, I hope. Well…” She grinned wickedly. “Unless you’re the doctor and I’m the patient and this is the exam room. Yes?”
“No. Sorry, love.”
Angie’s face fell.
Vic kissed her on the tip of her nose. “I swear I’ll give you all the exams you want as long as we’re not late for our…our not-medical appointment. In the meantime, we really need to shower and get moving.”
Angie flopped theatrically onto her back and sighed. “You’re killing me here. You know that, right? You’re supposed to be a healer, not a killer.”
Vic hopped off the bed and playfully swatted Angie’s bare thigh. “You’ll survive it, I promise. And I also promise to make it up to you tonight.”
Angie pulled herself to a sitting position. “Now you’re talking. But we could share a shower to speed things up. Which would also give us a little time to make out in the shower.”
Vic shed her robe as she padded to the bathroom. “Last one in’s a dirty rotten egg!”
Minutes later, as they huddled together under the shower head to rinse the soap from their bodies, Angie’s lips found the base of Vic’s throat. It was such a sensitive spot, and Angie knew exactly what to do with it. Her mouth was gentle, her tongue ticklish and heating Vic from the inside. Vic threw her head back against the shower wall as Angie’s mouth claimed a nipple, then the other one.
“Jesus, I can’t say no to you when you do that.” If they were late for their rendezvous at the dog breeder’s with the rest of the Cullens, so be it, dammit. This, for the moment, was way more important. In fact, her brain was fast turning to mush under the onslaught of Angie’s tongue.
Angie smiled up at her. “Good, because there’s absolutely no reason for you to say no.”
As the warm water sluiced over them, Angie slid down to her knees, and Vic began throbbing in anticipation of what was to come. Angie was so good at giving oral, a magician, really, that the mere thought or memory of it threw Vic into a volcanic arousal that had her seconds away from exploding. And begging for it. She was a goner as soon as Angie’s mouth claimed her, gone weak in the knees, moaning loudly, wild colors zooming around behind her closed eyelids. As she thrust a final time into Angie’s mouth, her orgasm shot through her, leaving her quaking and wanting more. She could do this with Angie all day, and sh
e entertained the fantasy of both of them quitting their jobs so there would be no obstacles to their endless lovemaking.
Angie kissed her way back up Vic’s body. “I am utterly addicted to you, do you know that? Do you suppose there’s an antidote to such a thing?”
Vic threw her arms around Angie’s neck and smiled against her lips. “If there is, I don’t want it.”
* * *
Fifty minutes later, Angie double-checked her seat belt as Vic roared through the streets of Traverse City and headed south along the lake. Fortunately it was a clear day and there was no discernable snow or ice on the roads.
“Are you really not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope, not until we get there. And not even wild horses could drag it out of me, so don’t even try.”
“How about wild tongues?” She stuck her tongue out and flicked it suggestively up and down.
“Stop it. Do you want me to crash?”
Angie crossed her arms in front of her and sighed. “I suppose not. Wait, you’re taking us to the airport and we’re catching a flight to the Caribbean for a week?”
“Ha, I wish!”
“Hmm, not a trip, huh? Oh, wait, we’re going antiquing!” She clapped her hands in glee.
“It’s pointless to try and guess, trust me.”
Angie sighed again. “Fine. Be that way.”
Minutes later, Vic pulled into a long driveway with a sign that read Edgewater Canine Breeders. When Angie saw her brother’s pickup truck waiting for them, her confusion only grew. “What’s Nick doing here?”
“Not just Nick. Claire and your parents too.”
“No,” Angie said as they exited the car. “They can’t have a dog at the farm.”
“I know. Allergies.”
“So what are they doing?”
“You’ll see, sweetheart.”
Holding hands, they followed a sign that directed them to a separate door at the rear of the house, where barking could be heard. Inside, Angie’s family waited for them, smiles swallowing their faces.
“Mom,” Angie said, greeting them all with hugs. “You shouldn’t be in here. Your allergies.”
“I won’t stay long. And besides, it’s worth it. I took an antihistamine before I came, so it should be fine.”
“You guys?” Angie said to Nick and Claire. “You’re getting a puppy?” They lived in an apartment above the three-car garage at the homestead. Angie supposed they could have a dog there, as long as they kept it away from her mom.
“Nope.” Nick grinned at her and inclined his head toward Vic. “We better let your girlfriend explain.”
Ooh, girlfriend! Angie loved the way that sounded and she grinned stupidly in return. That her family loved Vic meant everything to her.
“Actually,” Vic clarified. “It was Claire and Nick’s idea. I just happened to jump all over it.”
“Wait,” Angie said. “What idea are we talking about exactly?”
Claire handed Angie a fuzzy yellow Labrador retriever puppy. It was chubby and wiggly and looked up at her with the most adorable chocolate brown eyes she’d ever seen. Angie held it against her chest and it began licking her hand.
“Oh my God, it…” Angie turned the puppy over to check out its bits. “She’s adorable!”
The owner of the business, a pleasant-looking woman in her sixties with a leather apron that said “Labradors Rule” smiled and nodded at the puppy in Angie’s arms. “She’s the last of her litter. She’s nine weeks, so she really needs a home soon.”
The dog smelled mildly of grass and milk, and Angie kissed its snout. “I’d love to keep her, but I’m not in a position to right now.”
“Actually you are, dear.” Suzanne Cullen winked at her daughter.
“No, Mom. Your allergies. I can’t bring this little girl home.”
Roger stepped up to Angie and gently petted the puppy in her arms. “You think you’re staying with us forever or something? One adult child still living at home is bad enough. But two?”
They all knew he didn’t mean it. He was the biggest softie around.
“Actually,” Vic said, placing an arm around Angie’s waist and staring intently into her eyes. “I’d very much like you and the puppy to continue to stay with me. I mean, until you feel like getting your own place.”
“Vic, are you sure about this? It might—no, it will—make messes on your floor. And cry and bark and maybe even break things.”
“I’m sure. But the question is whether you want to be a doggie mother?”
Ever since Angie was a little girl she’d wanted a puppy. The military hospitals she worked in had regular therapy dogs visit, and some of the soldiers and veterans who came in for treatment were accompanied by therapy dogs. Angie had always made time for the dogs, petting them and talking to them and sneaking them treats, but that was as close as she got to having a dog in her life. Brooke would never have stood for having a dog; she was OCD when it came to keeping a tidy house.
“Are you guys serious about this?”
“Yes,” Vic answered. “We all think a dog would be a great companion for you.”
“But my shift work.”
Claire stepped forward. “We’ll all help with that. And you’re off for another month, right?”
“Right.” Angie held the puppy up to her face and locked eyes with it. It held her gaze, which was a good sign that it wasn’t too timid, that it liked people. “What do you say, pup? Do you want to come home with me and Vic?” She tickled a chubby little hairless tummy that was impossibly soft.
In response the dog squeaked adorably and Vic took a turn holding it. “I think she’s sure.”
Thirty minutes later—paperwork signed, money exchanged, and the dog in a small carrier in the backseat—Vic wheeled the car onto the street. “First stop, a pet store to get food and a larger cage. And toys, of course. Second thing is to name her.”
“Well, that’s a no-brainer. We have to name her after an author.”
“Sounds perfect to me. Your favorite is Zadie Smith and mine is Harper Lee. We could start with one of those. Unless you want to go with Flannery or Margaret or Alice.”
“Flannery has possibilities, but Harper it is,” Angie said. “Since this was all your idea.”
“Uh-uh. You’re Mommy Number One. I’m more like the crazy aunt. Or maybe stepmother. Zadie is perfect for her.”
“Are you sure?”
Vic reached across the console for Angie’s hand. “I’m sure. About all of this. Are you?”
Angie felt tears collect in her eyes. “I’ve always wanted a dog. How did you know?”
“Oh, a hunch. Plus a little birdie named Claire confirmed it.”
“Have I told you lately I love you?” Angie raised their linked hands and kissed the back of Vic’s.
“No, but you can never say it enough.”
“Good. I love you, Victoria Turner.”
“I love you too, Angela Cullen.”
“Wait. I need to amend the puppy’s name.”
“What’s that?”
“Zadie Lee Turner Cullen.”
“That’s a mouthful.”
“I know. But it’s perfect.”
Vic laughed and squeezed Angie’s hand. “You’re right. It is perfect.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Vic drew a line on the white board across the patient’s name she’d just sent home with a prescription for antibiotics. February was always the worst for flu and respiratory illnesses, and lately the Emergency Department had been overrun with cases.
“What have you got for me next?” she asked Liv.
“Four-year-old boy. Sore throat, fever.”
More of the same, Vic thought. March can’t get here fast enough.
“And can I just say,” Liv added with a grin, “that you look incredibly happy lately. I don’t suppose having the last three weeks off work has anything to do with it. Nor the, ahem, roommate waiting at home for you.”
; Vic smiled back at her friend and colleague. “You’d be right on both counts. And thanks, Liv. For everything.”
Vic strode into the treatment room, Liv trailing behind her.
“Hi,” she said to the boy’s mother. “I’m Dr. Turner. And you are?”
“Jessica Stone, and this is my son Devin.”
Vic hoisted the boy onto the treatment table after shaking his hand. “You’re not feeling too well, huh, Devin?”
He shook his head. He was alert but listless.
She checked his chart. His temperature had clocked in at one-oh-two when the nurse took it about fifteen minutes ago. “Can you open your mouth nice and wide for me?”
“It hurts,” he whispered.
“I know it does, sweetie. You’re a brave boy. Just try to open it as far as you can, okay? I need to have a quick look at it.”
Vic pressed on his tongue with a wooden tongue depressor and peered at the back of his throat after shining the light from her penknife on it. It was purple and swollen and pus was visible. Strep throat was Vic’s first guess, but she wanted to cover all the bases. When she was a medical student, one of the interns misdiagnosed epiglottitis in an eight-year-old girl. She would have died had an experienced resident not stepped in. Epiglottitis was a rare bacterial infection of the epiglottis that, if untreated, could completely cut off breathing if it swelled too much. Surgery—risky surgery—was the only option after that, and it had to be done quickly.
Vic explained to Devin and his mom that she was going to take a throat swab first and send it to the lab. But as soon as she extracted the culture, Devin’s breathing became more labored and his eyes began to droop shut. He was barely conscious. Dammit.
“Liv,” she said, keeping her voice steady so as not to alarm the boy and his mother. “Call for a pediatric anesthetist. Stat.” Devin needed a breathing tube, and fast, because his throat was closing up, making it impossible for him to breathe and oxygenate his blood. Performing such procedures on small children was tricky. If he didn’t get intubated in the next minute or two, his only remaining option at that point was a tracheotomy, which was not ideal.
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