Swap Out (27 page)

She’s gasping for breaths and her body loose when sensation overpowers her pleasure and I sit back, turning her onto her side. I lay behind her, draping her right arm behind my neck and hooking my fingers behind her knee, pointing it high to the ceiling so she’s open and I don’t wait to drive into her. She sucks in a breath I barely hear because my moan drowns it out, and with my grip desperate on her inner thigh I stroke into her, my left hand finding her right one behind my neck and holding it tight as some kind of anchor because I’m lost, totally lost as I thrust faster. I’m right against her front wall and she’s loving it, loud and unabashed moans and yells pummeling forward and I can’t slow down, can’t resist touching her one last time.

I cup her loosely, her clit stroking over the inside of my middle knuckle, and when she loses control her nails dig so harshly into my hand that I’m probably bleeding but I don’t give a fuck. Her inner walls are gripping the hell out of my cock and with every thrust it feels better, the land speed record on my hips getting blown to shit and I roar as I let it all go; the pleasure bursting forth from every part of my existence and my head swelling inside of her until she’s all I can feel and she’s still locked around me and it feels so good I never want it to stop.

But the horrible, wretched truth is that too soon, I’m a useless mess of arteries and exhausted muscles as I collapse on the floor behind her. My right hand is laying somewhere over her stomach and my left is still tangled with hers behind my head, my chest nudging her back with every gasping breath I take. And Zoe is as breathless as I am, her skin glistening with sweat and the last traces of river water, her hair a tangled knot from where half came out of her rubber band. But something about the shape of her spine and the soft set of her shoulders looks happy, and I smile.

“Luca,” she starts, dazed, then pauses to take another breath, “are we in the hallway?”

I chuckle, though I don’t know where I found the energy. “I consider it a miracle we’re not on the front porch.”

She hums and pushes back against me, snuggling her back into my chest, and I wrap my other arm around her, hugging her tightly. I’m not kidding about the front porch. The whole ride home was more sexual tension than I’ve ever felt in my life and as soon as the engine stopped, she was on me. I don’t even know how I unlocked the front door.

And now all I want to do, really, really want to do is get us off the carpet and immediately in bed so I can pass out for a few minutes and then have her again. I’ve got some serious time to make up for and am nowhere near done with her, but I’m too tired to move right now and it’s going to have to wait a second. Maybe three.

“Gimme a minute and then we’ll go lay down,” I say quietly, kissing the back of her neck, and she snorts.

“If you think I’m going to let you in my bed without taking a shower, you’ve lost your damn mind. You stink like river.”

I burst out laughing and hug her closer, completely brain dead from being wonderfully, momentarily sated, and absolutely in love with her. Bossy control antics and all.

I think in the last thirty-six hours I’ve had more sex than in the last three years combined. Not that I’m complaining. Zoe has been insatiable ever since the proverbial dam broke, and we barely got through work yesterday. Actually, I guess we
didn’t
because we had a quickie in the backseat of her car after lunch, and a tryst on her desk after we kicked everybody out early.

We’ve covered the kitchen table, living room floor, hallway
again
, chair by the bedroom window which included her reaching up and ripping down the curtains during the Mighty Orgasm That Could Go On Forever, her Jacuzzi bathtub, shower, and even the lounge chair on the back porch. Oh, and the bed. It’s like the periodic comma in our run-on sentence.

And for that reason I should probably be asleep right now, like Zoe is: her body lazily draped halfway across the bed and her head on my chest, the covers twisted down by my ankles and her hair fanned out over my shoulder. It’s barely 8
a.m.
and after two rounds already this morning, we still have a long Saturday ahead of us. Not that she knows it.

I smooth my palm down her spine apologetically, tucking her hair behind her ear before leaning down to press a kiss into her forehead. I’d rather have her lips considering the fight I’m about to start, but I’ll have to take what I can get. Carefully I shift her off me, pulling up the covers to her shoulders and unable to resist leaving a few more kisses on her temple and cheek so hopefully, some part of her remembers that I’m not doing any of this to hurt her. For one last moment, I let my body settle into the bed that has come to feel like home, then I take a deep breath before I get up because there’s no telling when she’ll let me back in it.

My eyes stay with her still and sleeping form as I go to the closet, pulling fresh clothes off a hanger and shelf instead of the duffel bag I was previously living out of, and I carry my jeans and shirt with me into the master bathroom. I take a quick shower and when I’m done and dressed I search for my razor but don’t see it, and I sigh as I open her designated drawer. Hair brush, makeup, nail polish and hair ties, and a gray, velvet jewelry box the size of my palm. My brow furrows as I take it out, wondering if this is where she’s been hiding my disposable Gillettes in her attempt to keep my stubble around, but when I open it, I find something else entirely.

My dog tags.

My thumb sweeps over the engraving of my name, my social security number followed by the prominent AF, but no longer do I feel the weight of a ten-year-old girl when I take them out and balance them in my palm. I feel the high from hearing my brothers’ voices beside me as we shouted our acknowledgement to commands, the invincibility when I graduated and received my maroon beret. I feel the conviction I used to bellow with every word of our creed.

Draping the chain around my neck and dropping them inside my shirt, I let the IDs settle cool and sturdy against my chest, and when I look in the mirror, I stand a little straighter.

I can do this. I
have
to do this.

I replace the box in the drawer and look to the one on the opposite side of the dual sink, even though it’s always empty, but my tooth brush and deodorant and shaving cream have all gone missing from the counter. I thought I left them there last night and Zoe may have thrown them away but—

I open the drawer and stop, because it’s all there. All my stuff from last night plus all the razors over the last few weeks that had vanished, they’re all in the drawer like it’s where they’re supposed to be.

And that slays me, just absolutely kills me because we’re so close to having everything be perfect, and I’m about to risk it all. But I don’t have a choice. It’s gone on long enough and I can’t keep letting this happen. Denial and a blind eye only serves danger, and I can’t afford any more in my life.

I brush my teeth and shave, and I’m just finishing when I hear Zoe leave the bed and then her hands are on my shoulders, her lips pressing into my spine through comfortable, worn cotton.

“Since when do you shave on the weekends?” she asks around a yawn, hugging my back, and I don’t answer as I rinse off my razor and then my face. I turn in her arms, leaning back against the counter and soaking in her calm smile as she looks up at me. She tugs lightly on my belt loops, and I swallow. “Going somewhere?”

“Just to make coffee,” I say, but my voice cracks a little and she arches an eyebrow at me. “Then we’re going for a drive.”

“Okay,” she drawls. “Planning on telling me where we’re going? I had things I needed to do today.”

My eyes search her face as my palms cradle her cheeks, my thumbs stroking over her skin and I tell myself that it’ll be fine. That she’s going to yell and refuse and threaten me, but she’s still going to come with me because she knows she has to. And when it’s over, we’ll figure it out, together.

I bend my mouth to hers and kiss her faithfully, absorbing each tiny curve in her lips and how she lets them disappear into mine so we’re no longer two separate beings, but instead a new one that’s a little bit of both of us. Her hand settles on my chest before I’m ready for her to know, and I can almost sense her brow furrow as she pulls away.

“You’re wearing your IDs?” she asks, her voice confused and almost a little betrayed, and I clear my throat.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because,” I start, then admit, “I needed to.”

She takes a step back and crosses her arms. “Where are we going, Luca?”

And I know she wants her space right now, but I don’t know how to give that to her when I’m about to say this. Instead, I snake an arm around her waist and pull her into me, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her securely even though she doesn’t return it.

“We’re going to see a doctor,” I say quietly and she stiffens, immediately trying to push me away. But I don’t let her go, just holding her tighter even as the heels of her hands dig into my ribs, and I duck my head so the words are as private as I can make them. “By my best count you’re at thirteen weeks, Zoe.
Thirteen.
You’re entering the second trimester and you’re already showing, and I have to make sure you’re okay.”

“Screw you,” she grits out, her voice broken beneath her sniffles. “That’s not what this is about.”

“It is,” I say firmly and lean back, my grip unyielding on her shoulders as she tries to twist away. “I will try to shield you from everything you don’t want to see or hear, but we have to do this, Zoe. Every day we don’t get you checked makes this all the more dangerous.”

“No it doesn’t! You’re certified and you know I’m fine. This is all just some scheme to make me change my mind, and I’m not going to.”

“I am not a doctor,” I hiss. “There could be things happening that I don’t know about. And regardless of what you decide to do, those things could still affect
you
. If you want to be together when this is over, then you need to be alive to do it.”

Her eyes widen as she sucks in a breath, and I exhale slowly through my nose.

“I am not trying to scare you,” I say more calmly. “Only to make sure you realize how important it is that we go. Today.”

“I can’t…” she trails off, shaking her head. “They’re going to ask questions, make me talk about—”

“I’m going to take care of it,” I promise, slowly moving my palm to her cheek and when she leans into my touch, my voice drops deep and protective and I mean every word. “I will answer the questions and I will be with you the whole time. But I need you to trust me, and understand that this is the right thing to do. For your sake.”

“Luca…”

“Don’t,” I start, then shake my head, “don’t make me force you, Zoe. Not now, not after everything that’s changed.”

Her eyes narrow. “You can’t make me do anything.”

My hand drops and I stare at her in disappointment, shaking my head as I turn and walk out of the bathroom. But I’m not two steps away when I hear a drawer slam, then Zoe mutter a curse under her breath.

*              *              *

Zoe re-crosses her legs for the fourth time as she sits on the paper-covered examination bed, arms folded and unable to decide if she wants to glare at me or not. The two-hour drive across the state border into Grand Junction, Colorado was a long one, and not one I’m looking forward to having again once we’re done. But the thing is, we couldn’t just run to the local doctor’s office on Main Street because this is a little tricky.

In any other pregnancy, she would have been seen once, maybe twice already by an OBGYN. So yesterday when I called to make the appointment and the receptionist freaked that she hadn’t been seen yet, I had to come up with some bullshit story about how we’ve been traveling and didn’t want to see a doctor until we were closer to home. That and how we’re planning on relocating to Colorado in the next month so that’s why we were scheduling to see someone in Grand Junction instead of Moab. Pretty sure the receptionist knew I was lying, but I don’t care because she booked the appointment.

We had another fun little silent freak out when we got here and they asked for Zoe’s health insurance, and my excuse-prepared brain rattled off that we didn’t have any because we’re self-employed and between contracts. Zoe stayed quiet as I slid over my debit card, and when we finally got back to the exam room after they took her temperature and a urine sample and checked her blood pressure—which was through the fucking roof—she demanded an explanation. To which I answered that I assumed she wanted to keep the paper trail as contained as possible, because someone would surely raise an eyebrow at her insurance company when they stopped receiving bills for a pregnancy that showed no proof of ending in a miscarriage.

And that brings us to where we are now: Zoe switching from glowering at me to flashing me some look I can’t decode, while I’m trying not to jump out of my skin from the smell of iodine and antiseptic and wondering why there’s a picture of George Clooney taped to the ceiling.

“Luca…” Zoe says quietly and I glance over, my whole body aching to reach for her and hide her in my chest where she’s comfortable and safe, but before I can say anything there’s a knock on the door and it cracks open.

“Hello,” a white lab coat topped with an easy smile says as she comes into the room, gently shutting the door behind her. “I’m Dr. Fields.”

“Zoe Pearce,” my girl says, shaking the doctor’s hand, though she doesn’t seem comforted one bit by an apparently well-practiced bedside manner.

“Mr. Pearce,” Dr. Fields says as she turns to me, hand extended, and I catch the corner of Zoe’s mouth quirking up behind her physician’s back.

“Roark,” I clarify. “Luca’s fine. We don’t want to give Zoe too many ideas.”

The doctor chuckles and goes to take her seat on a stool, and I make my way towards Zoe, bumping her shoulder with mine.

“So,” Dr. Fields starts, “I understand we’re a little behind on your first visit, which isn’t a problem but we may want to do a few more tests to make sure everything looks on track. I understand you were traveling?”

Zoe glances up at me, and I grin smoothly. “Yeah, just needed to get away. I’m not real good with sitting still.”

“Were you out of the country?” the doctor asks, and I snort as I settle my hand on Zoe’s lower back.

“Not unless you count Alaska, which I’m pretty sure classifies as its own universe.”

The doctor’s eyes light up. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful, I’m actually planning on taking a cruise up there next year.”

“Bring bug spray,” Zoe says conspiratorially, and I chuckle under my breath, ease and pride rumbling through my chest as I sweep my thumb over her spine.

“I’ll remember that,” Dr. Fields says, then her face becomes a little more professional. “All right, so today, Zoe, first we’re going to start with a physical, then everybody’s favorite thing: the joyful pap smear. Followed by a teensy bit of blood work and…” She glances down at her clipboard. “It looks like they’ve already done your urine sample so that’s good. Blood pressure was a little high though…”

“That would be my fault,” I cut in with a smirk.

“It usually is,” the doctor says, winking at Zoe. “And other than that we just have some standard Q and As to go through and then we get to the fun part: the ultrasound.” Zoe stiffens out of the corner of my eye, and I smooth my palm down her back. “I’m going to go ahead and have my nurse come in and draw some blood and—”

“While she’s doing that,” I interrupt as politely as possible, “do you think maybe I can have a word with you in your office?”

The doctor’s eyes widen, and she immediately looks to Zoe. “Ms. Pearce, is that all right with you?”

Zoe looks up at me, then something in her eyes softens as she says, “Absolutely.”

Dr. Fields just smiles at her as she rises, and then heads out of the room, leaving the door cracked. I hear as she says something to who I’m guessing is a nurse, and I press a kiss against Zoe’s temple.

“Everything’s going to be fine, and I’ll be right back,” I whisper, and she nods. I steal one chaste kiss off her lips while I still can, then turn and head out into the hallway, hating that I’m leaving her alone in there. But I knew when I made this appointment that I was going to have to find a way to do this, and it’s time to suck it up.