Only Trick (16 page)

Scooting up, I bury my face in his neck, pressing my lips to him. “I don’t need to know.”

Y
awn. Stretch.

“Oh shit!” I notice the time, and I have thirty minutes to be walking through the hospital doors. I never oversleep; then again, I never cry like I did yesterday. It’s physically draining.

“Oversleep?” I hear Trick, but he’s not in bed.

I flail around in the covers trying to untangle. Then I leap out and run to the bathroom, slowing down just enough to do a double take at Trick on a yoga mat in some insane forearm inversion pose. “You’re doing yoga
again
?” Trick is one dedicated guy. I don’t think he ever skips his morning practice.

He chuckles. “What gave it away?”

Another unforgettable image—Trick shirtless wearing loose fitting drawstring pants, balancing on his forearms causing all his muscles to flex into perfect definition. Yep, there’s nothing sexy about that.
Yeah right!
I continue around the glass-walled corner into the bathroom. “Oh, and the yoga mat gave it away.”

After throwing on my clothes in just under thirty seconds, I swipe my tongue along my teeth.
Yuck!
“Are we one of those couples that can occasionally share a toothbrush?” I yell.

“That depends.”

I jump, not expecting him to be standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest looking completely worthy of playing hooky, which I have never done.

“On?” I’m already squeezing on a glob of toothpaste because it’s happening whether he likes it or not.

“On if you need me to send you my dental records first.”

I finish scrubbing and spit. “Not funny,” I shake my head but grin as I start to brush past him.

He grabs me and pins me to the wall, attacking my neck like a horny vampire. “Well your face says otherwise.”

I wriggle out of his hold and grab my purse and keys.

“No breakfast?”

“I’ll have my Green Lantern at the hospital.”

He pulls on a shirt, shoves his feet into his boots, and follows me onto the elevator. “Green Lantern? Is this something I should know about?” Pulling me into his arms, he kisses me until my knees literally give out.

After walking me to my car he kisses me again, and I’m so going to need a panty change when I get to work.

“Go save the world.”

I get in and he shuts my door. Before I pull out, I roll down my window. “Oh, and if you truly love me, then you will most certainly do your homework on the Green Lantern.” I blow him a kiss and speed off.

*

The next forty-eight
hours run together in a continuous blur. A nasty string of influenza hits early leaving the ER understaffed. I haven’t been home yet, and my intermittent sleep in the on-call room has left me feeling on the borderline of nausea and hallucination.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Jade,” I say through a big yawn.

“You safe to drive home?”

“Good question, but I think if I roll down a window and blast the radio I should be fine.”

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I glance at my phone. Trick’s not a stalker and he’s definitely not clingy. I’ve texted him several times over the past two days just to let him know I wouldn’t be leaving the hospital anytime soon. He’s replied once with “
That sucks.”
I guess it’s better than nothing. Right now I’m craving him, but I
need
sleep so I decide to go home; besides it’s nine in the morning and he’s probably working anyway.

Me:
FINALLY done. Going home to crash. Miss you.

By the time I stagger into my house twenty minutes later, my phone chimes.

Trick:
Want me to come tuck you in?

Ugh! Yes, I want to see him, but I look like crap and feel exhausted.

Me:
Yes, BUT I think I’d like it even more if you come wake me in about 6 hrs.

Trick:
I’ll see what I can do.

I want to swoon over thoughts of him, but the moment my body hits the bed I’m out.

*

Six hours later
I force myself to crawl out of bed, straight into the bathroom. Nearly seventy-two hours without showering is all kinds of wrong. Trick missing out on my oily, matted bed head and hairy pits is in everyone’s best interest.

After drying my hair, I head down to the kitchen expecting an Old Mother Hubbard moment since I haven’t been grocery shopping in over a week. The cupboards are bare, but on the top shelf of my refrigerator is a bottle of Green Lantern with a note attached to it.

I guess this means I love you. Six hours didn’t fit my schedule. Showed up at four—by the way, you snore like a fog horn.

Shaking the bottle of green juice, I roll my eyes. “I don’t snore.” Not even his snarky humor can take away my over-the-moon high the rest of his note gives me. Turning to grab my phone from its charger, I see another note attached to a DVD.

Just in case I was wrong about the juice.

The DVD is
Green Lantern
. I laugh out loud. A guy who’s not afraid to give his girl a Ryan Reynolds movie, how lucky am I? Now I
need
to see him, touch him, taste him, smell him. Instinct takes over and within minutes I’m on my way to Rogue Seduction, juice in hand, enormous grin. I see him in the window working his artistic magic as I park my car and pay with my ParkChicago app on my phone.

I wrangle my hair in one hand as the wind fights to whip it in every direction while I hustle across the street and into the building. The admittedly stunning young blonde on his stool glances over at me while he concentrates on her face, not acknowledging my presence.

“Hi,” I call.

“He’s in the zone, don’t expect him to answer.”

I turn, having missed the Gabrielle Union lookalike sitting at the register doing something on the computer. Yep, she fits right in here—flawless mocha skin, dark eyes, brilliant teeth, cheekbones to die for, and long black silk hair.

“Do you have an appointment?” She flashes her beautifully warm and inviting smile.

Between the four of us in the room, without a doubt I’m the one who looks like a troll. Thank God I at least took a shower. “Um, no I don’t. I just stopped by to see him.”

“Is he expecting you?”

I’m ready to collapse out of site and slither out the door. Why do I feel so out of place?

“I am.” Trick’s voice heats my skin and does embarrassing things to me in other areas as well.

I turn but his back is still to me.

The beauty at his desk raises a surprised brow and grins. “Can I offer you something to drink? Wine, coffee, tea, water?”

“Thank you, but I’m fine right now.”

She nods and motions to the two black leather studio sofas by the window. “Feel free to have a seat while you wait.”

I smile and take a seat. Trick never mentioned he has a receptionist and I haven’t seen her before. I mentally add her to the million other questions I still have for my mystery man.

Over the next twenty-five minutes I browse through the tabloids on the side table while listening to soft jazz mixed with the occasional blues when his receptionist changes the album on the old turn table. Walking past me she eyes me with a Cheshire cat grin and the blonde offers the occasional feral cat look that says she might scratch my eyes out if I don’t stop looking at Trick.
Meow!

The blonde sashays over to the receptionist while I keep my head down, like I’m in the wrong part of Chicago after dark.

“Come.” I look up just as Trick has already passed me, walking toward a door in the back. Glancing around, I wonder if he is talking to me.

“Now, Darby.”

Okay, he’s talking to me.

I scuttle after him as if I’m sneaking off. I’m met with his stone expression as he holds the door open for me. He flips on the light and shuts the door to a ten-by-ten storage room with shelving along two walls.

“I only have ten minutes,” he says with clipped words.

I look around at the stacks of cosmetics and accessories on the shelves and then at him as he moves toward me. “Oh, well then I’ll come back la—”

Trick grabs my hair and smashes his mouth to mine giving me an instant case of whisker burn.
The best burn ever!
I grab his biceps for balance. He’s hungry and I’m starving. Releasing my lips, he shrugs off his shirt.

“You’re going to
come
alright, but it’s going to be in the next two minutes.”

Fuck. Me! I think I just did.

“B-But your receptionist is out there,” I say with a breathy voice as he unfastens my jeans and yanks them down with my panties while I grip his hair for support.

He looks up at me with a quick flash of confusion, then smiles. “She is, so I’d tell you to keep it down, but I’m not sure that’s going to be possible.”

“Why do you say th-thaaaat!” I
scream
as he simultaneously thrusts two fingers into me and sucks my clitoris, claiming the world’s fastest orgasm.
NOT a gentleman!
“Trick! Oh my God … O-oh. My. God!” The choir singing hallelujah echoes in my ears while the ball drops in Times Square with a mind-blowing fireworks display behind my tightly closed eyes, and every nerve in my body cheers in a pandemonium of celebration.

My legs give out, but he has me—my breasts—my neck—my lips. Then he’s inside me and my body does what it always does—chases him. I’m … I’m barely coherent. I can’t even open my eyes. Every time I start to come down, start to regain consciousness, his hands and lips navigate like magnets to all the erogenous zones on my body and it knocks me out every time.

“Fucking hell! You feel good,” he rasps.

I think he just came, but honesty I-I don’t know. I-I can’t think. He’s still for a brief moment, then he’s releasing his grip on my ass.

“I’m trying to help you out, sexy, but you have to try. Maybe lock your knees or something.”

Stand up.
I think I can.
Oh God, he’s cleaning me up!
A decade or so passes in my brain, and I’m magically dressed again and sitting in the corner of the supply closet.

“Gotta go. I’ll take you to dinner later, okay?” He tosses me a key. “Lock the door when you come out.”

Nod
. I think I can do that too. He bends down and kisses me, then leaves, shutting the door behind him. Why is he always leaving me behind?

What just happened?

Crazy. There is no other word for what just happened.

*