Fix You (5 page)

“Take off your shirt,” she said, but didn’t wait for him to comply. Instead, she gripped the material and tugged it away. Her fingers stroked his chest, circled his nipples. He loved her hands on him, the way her hungry eyes ate him up. When her fingers stroked downward along his stomach, he joined the game. In unison, they tackled the buttons on each other’s jeans. Zoey stood briefly to ease the undressing and he instantly missed her body’s warmth.

Rob sucked in a steadying breath when she unzipped and pushed her jeans down. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t try to hide beneath her panties. Within seconds, she’d shed both the denim and the silk, standing before him completely naked. Rob’s heart stuttered.

He’d spent a lifetime running the wrong race. He didn’t want to be a rock star. He wanted to be hers.

“Say something,” she whispered, and he realized he’d let the silent moment go too long. She was uneasy.

His gaze met hers. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She smiled. “Promise me that’s not your standard line.”

He shook his head. “I’ve never said that to anyone before. Promise.” He slowly unzipped his own jeans as Zoey lowered her eyes to watch. Lifting his hips, he eased his jeans and boxers away. There was no hiding his desire for her. His cock was full, hard. The head brushed his stomach as he kicked off his pants and sat back down.

Zoey studied him, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. The sight made Rob dizzy with need as he imagined her mouth wrapped around his dick.

“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?