“I need you, too, Roxy.” His words were a warm caress along the side of her neck. “But slow. Slooowww.” He sank into her, so slowly and carefully she blinked back tears at the perfect fullness he provided. “Ah. Christ. And easy. Easy,” he repeated when she rocked her hips in a completely instinctive urge to take more.
He moved, too, interrupting her effort with a long, luxurious thrust. Just like that, the orgasm building inside her blossomed from an immature bud to an opulent burst of color, texture, and beauty in endless velvety layers. The sensations unfurled and expanded in dizzying cycles, so intense she closed her eyes and cried out in the kind of relief she’d never found in a pill, or a drink, or a cigarette. The kind of relief she’d never found anywhere except with West.
…
“I dare say someone’s spent quality time in bed over the last forty-eight hours.”
Roxy shifted on the paper-draped table and tried to give Ellie an innocent look. “Just following doctor’s orders.”
Ellie nodded. “Good.” She gently felt the bump on Roxy’s head. “The swelling has gone down nicely and the bruising is minimal. Any sharp pain or dizziness?”
“Nope.”
“How about episodes of lightheadedness or fireworks shows behind your eyes?”
“Um…not from the knock on my head, no.”
Ellie drew back, her eyes serious as they scanned Roxy’s. But Melody’s laugh carried all the way from the front office, where she served as Ellie’s practice manager. “Just following doctor’s orders, eh?”
“I got plenty of bed rest,” she defended when Ellie’s pretty mouth turned down in a little frown.
Melody’s footsteps clicked down the hall, and she popped her head in the door. “Did you make poor West do all the work?” Her placid Miss Bluelick smile didn’t conceal the humor dancing in her lake-blue eyes.
Roxy shrugged. “The man has a stubborn streak. He wouldn’t let me lift a finger.”
“Oh, I hate when that happens,” Melody sympathized, grinning wickedly. “Did he, ahem, attend to your every need?”
“He did.” She reached her arms over her head and stretched her very content body, enjoying the musical shower of her bracelets sliding from wrist to elbow before letting her hands drop back to her lap. “He attended to needs I didn’t even know I had.”
Melody laughed. “Okay, now you’re just bragging.”
A beam of light pierced Roxy’s right pupil, and she struggled not to squint. It moved to the other, and Ellie’s face peered at her from the other end of a penlight. “Well, whatever treatment plan he employed, it appears to have worked.” She slipped the penlight into the pocket of her white coat. “You can resume your normal activities—and no, I don’t need any details about those—although I will say they shouldn’t involve you jumping headfirst into anything, especially singlehanded crime fighting.”
Roxy crossed her heart with her index finger. “Agreed. You’re, like, the tenth person I’ve had to make that promise to.” Not an exaggeration, unfortunately. On top of the promises she’d made to West, she’d had to swear to Shaun, Addy, Cooper, Jeb, Ed Pinkerton, hell, even Kenny and Dobie, that she’d never do something so reckless—there was that r-word—again.
“What can I say?” Ellie smiled and rested her hands on Roxy’s shoulders. “We’ve all grown very fond of our resident rock star.”
Resident? Now there was an r-word never before applied to her. Rock star, either, for that matter, but the most startling thing was how much more the first meant to her than the second. Resident felt…real. It felt right. Rock star felt far away, like a dream, and maybe not even her dream as much as something she’d inherited from her parents.
She mentally shook the question away. She would be neither resident nor rock star if she couldn’t pay her bills. Which meant, for now, the most important title she could claim was waitress. But Addy had gone all mama-bear on her yesterday morning when Roxy had dropped one teensy hint that she’d be ready to resume her shifts today. Her boss wanted a thumbs-up from her doctor. The only thing that made being treated like a kindergartener with a fever endurable was that both women were her friends, and their overabundance of caution stemmed from concern. “Does resuming my normal activities include going back to work at the diner?”
Ellie gave her shoulders a squeeze before stepping back. “Yes, but with a caveat. Addy’s agreed to a ramp-up. She’ll put you on for fifteen hours this week, starting tomorrow, if that’s what you want, and after the first week if you’re feeling fine, I’ll give my blessing to you going back to your regular hours.”
“Thank you.” Fifteen hours was better than nothing. Now, if she could get back on at the pub, but the fate of that gig rested in Earl Rawley’s unsentimental hands, on account of her promise to West.
Melody glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly noon, and we’re clear until quarter after one. How about we go to DeShay’s and tell Addy the good news in person, over lunch?”
Roxy hopped down from the table and lifted her zebra-print bag from the counter. “I’m in.” The sooner the better. September first loomed on the horizon, which meant rent, a payment to West for the sleek new smartphone currently tucked into the inner pocket of her bag, and hopefully no damage to her sock-drawer savings.
Melody and Ellie had the close-the-office-for-lunch routine down pat, and in minutes they were making their way down the sunlit sidewalk. On Roxy’s left, Melody cast a long, curvy shadow in her pretty peach sundress, snug matching short-sleeve cardigan, and white pumps. On her right, Ellie cast a streamlined shape in her sleeveless purple blouse, narrow black pants, and demure ballet flats. Roxy’s shadow, between them, looked distinctly rough around the edges, with her mass of curls, form-fitting tank top, cutoffs, and biker boots.
“Any news on the dog?” Ellie asked. “A microchip or a lost pet notice or…?”
“Nada,” Roxy replied. “No chip, according to Dr. Sterling at the animal hospital,
