Fix You (11 page)

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.”

“Remember that.” He reached up and she felt the clipper travel the same path along her scalp.

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.

Zoey had been rather subdued the night he’d told her the band was ready to record once more. He’d waited, expecting her to question his plans. Her silence confused him and if he was being truthful, disappointed him. He’d started to hope she’d want him to stick around for good. Though they’d lived together for years, he’d thought their changed relationship would make her yearn for something more permanent, normal.

God knew that was what he wanted. He loved coming home to her every night. Sniffing the floral candle scent she’d recently adopted, listening to her sing along with the radio as she tidied up or sat at her laptop playing Hearts after a long day at work.

Strangely, he thought he’d feel more anxious, more upset about leaving Express Train. He’d played with most of the guys since high school. For nearly twenty years, they’d struggled to make a name for themselves, to claw their way onto the charts. Now that the band was on the brink of success, he was bowing out.

What if he was making a mistake? What if Zoey had liked her time alone and was actually looking forward to him hitting the road again?

God. He was an idiot. He’d intended to sit down and discuss everything with Zoey before he made a permanent move, but then his cursed impulsiveness got the better of him. He’d had a nasty fight this afternoon with Chip over the tempo in one of the new songs. Walking outside to cool off, Rob had gotten a phone call from The Traffic’s producer. The man had made him an offer too good to refuse. A dream job. Like an ass, he’d accepted it on the spot, gone inside to tell the guys he was leaving the band and now he was standing outside his own front door, feeling like he’d been run over by a bus. Repeatedly.